[LINA]
I still couldn't wrap my head around it.
A love spell. A love spell.
In this age of nanotech, AI, and space travel, soone had the audacity to use magic to ss with my brother's mind? It felt absurd—like sothing out of a bad fantasy novel.
And yet, here we were, sitting in my grandparents' ancestral ho, undergoing a cleansing ritual like we'd sohow been dragged into a supernatural horror story.
I had a million questions, but no one seed in a hurry to answer them. All I knew was that my mother had whisked us away the mont she realized what had happened to Cole.
And now, thanks to so ancient, unseen forces, we had to stay here for an entire month—just to make sure the spell was completely gone and wouldn't leave any lingering effects. Oh, and lucky , I had to go through the cleansing too—just in case.
At first, I thought it was ridiculous. I an, I felt fine. But as the days passed, I started noticing things.
Cole was . . . changing. Well he was beginning to be himself again.
When we first arrived, he barely spoke. His eyes had been hollow, his face completely devoid of emotion, like he wasn't even there. He avoided mirrors, flinched when touched, and spent most of his ti either locked in his room or staring blankly at the wall.
But slowly, ever so slowly, he started coming back.
It was in the small things at first—a fleeting expression, a slight reaction to sothing he normally would've ignored. One morning, I caught him actually frowning at his reflection in the mirror, as if seeing himself for the first ti in ages.
Then, a few days later, he ate a full al without having to be reminded. And just yesterday, he laughed—actually laughed—at sothing stupid I said.
It wasn't much. But it was sothing.
The rituals were exhausting, though. Every night, my grandmother and her group of mystics and a group of expert Abularyos perford ceremonies that involved incense, chanting, and all sorts of old-fashioned thods that made question everything I knew about reality. We bathed in herbal-infused water, burned protection sigils, and listened to our elders murmur in languages I didn't understand.
The worst part? The dreams.
I don't know if it was my mind playing tricks on , or if whatever magic had affected Cole had also brushed against , but ever since we arrived, my dreams had turned strange—dark, twisted, filled with shadows whispering in voices I couldn't place.
So nights, I'd wake up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, as if sothing had been watching from the corner of my room.
I didn't tell anyone, though.
I figured my mother had enough to worry about.
As the days passed, I could finally breathe a little easier.
The heaviness that had settled over us like a dark cloud was lifting. I felt it in the way the house no longer felt suffocating, in the way I no longer woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat from nightmares I couldn't quite rember. Most of all, I saw it in Cole.
He was getting better.
He no longer walked around like a ghost trapped in his own body. The blank, hollow expression had faded, replaced by sothing closer to himself—still subdued, still a little distant, but present. He spoke more, even cracked a sarcastic remark or two, and for the first ti since we arrived, he voluntarily joined us for a al without being forced.
It should have been a relief. It was a relief.
But it also left with a problem.
Eve.
I didn't know whether to tell him or not.
He had been through enough already, and I didn't want to shove more pain in his face just as he was starting to recover. Maybe I should wait—just until I was sure he was strong enough to handle it. But the longer I stayed silent, the more restless I beca.
Because the truth was, Eve wasn't doing well either.
Her fashion show had been a massive success, all thanks to Dean Cole hyping it up like his life depended on it. But that was the good news. The bad news?
Her entire family was fake.
The people she had called her parents, the ones she thought she could rely on—they weren't even related to her. They had exploited her. They used her for their own gain, manipulated her, made her believe they cared—only for her to find out it was all a lie.
And just when she thought things couldn't get worse, my idiot of a brother had broken up with her—while under a spell—for so witch nad Elena.
I couldn't even begin to imagine what Eve must have gone through. One betrayal was enough to destroy a person, but two? That could break soone entirely.
Eve was strong—I knew that. But strength wasn't infinite. She had confidence, intelligence, and enough pride to carry her through most things. But confidence could crack, intelligence could beco self-doubt, and pride could easily turn into a cage if she convinced herself she had to bear it all alone.
I had no idea how to approach this.
Should I call her? Would she even want to hear from ? Would she pick up? And if she did, what was I supposed to say?
"Hey, my brother was brainwashed, and he didn't actually an to break up with you. Hope that helps!"
Yeah. That would go great.
But regardless of how hard this conversation would be, it had to happen. Eve deserved to know the truth.
And deep down, I had a feeling that she needed to hear it.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and dialed her number.
No answer.
Okay . . . maybe she was busy. Or asleep. Or just didn't want to pick up.
I tried again. Still nothing.
A sinking feeling crept into my gut.
Maybe—no, definitely—she had changed her number. And honestly? I couldn't bla her.
Sighing, I reached out to our spy network to track down her new contact. It didn't take long.
Piece of cake.
I dialed again.
This ti, it rang.
"Hello?"
Her voice was groggy, hoarse—wrong.
I had braced myself for anger, maybe even a cold, clipped tone, but I hadn't expected this.
She sounded exhausted, like soone who hadn't slept in days, soone barely holding it together.
"Eve? It's , Lina—"
Tut.
Silence.
She hung up.
I stared at my phone, stunned.
Great.
I tried again.
Call cannot be completed.
She blocked .
Fantastic.
Now what?
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