I never expected this moment.

The air around me seemed to still as I stood there, staring at him. My heart raced, the sound of it pounding in my ears. It wasn't just shock—it was an avalanche of emotions I couldn't even begin to sort out. Relief, confusion, hope, and pain, all tangled up in a mess I wasn't prepared to confront.

But his eyes... they didn't light up like I thought they would. He wasn't smiling like I imagined he would if we met again.

No, the way he looked at me broke something deep inside.

His gaze was cold, distant, like he was staring at someone he'd never seen before. He frowned, his dark brows pulling together as his eyes swept over me from head to toe.

"What the hell?!"

Before I could process what was happening, his arms wrapped around me. Strong and unyielding, he lifted me off the ground as though I weighed nothing. My body tensed in shock, and my voice tore from my throat.

"Put me down, Greco! What the hell are you doing?!"

He didn't answer. His steps were quick and determined as he carried me out of the house like I was some unwanted burden.

"Put me down!" I screamed again, my fists pounding weakly against his chest.

Then, without a word, he let go.

I hit the ground hard, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through my body. My arm scraped against the gravel path, and I winced as a sting spread across the raw skin.

I clutched my arm, closing my eyes briefly to gather myself.

"You shouldn't be breaking into houses that don't belong to you," he said, his tone cold and authoritative. He stood over me, tall and imposing, as if he were some kind of guard dog protecting his territory.

I lifted my head, anger flaring in my chest. "What are you talking about?" I snapped, glaring up at him.

"I could have you arrested," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was sharp, accusatory, like he truly believed I was some kind of intruder. "What's your deal? Why were you inside our house?"

Our house.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Did he even know what he was saying?

"G-Greco," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time, I couldn't stop them. They spilled over, hot and unrelenting, streaming down my cheeks as I looked at him.

He didn't even flinch.

"Son, what are you doing to our guest?!"

The sound of Tata Lino's voice snapped both of us out of the tense moment. He came rushing over, his face a mix of shock and dismay. He reached for me immediately, helping me to my feet.

"She's a guest?" Greco—or Son, as Tata Lino called him—asked, his voice full of disbelief. "I thought she was a thief, so I dragged her out."

"A thief?! You thought this beautiful young woman was a thief?" Tata Lino exclaimed, his voice rising with incredulity. "Son, what's wrong with you?"

Greco's expression softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He stepped closer to me. "I... I'm sorry," he said quietly, his tone losing some of its harshness.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to scream at him, demand answers, but all I could do was stare at him.

He stepped forward and scooped me up again, his touch gentler this time. I couldn't even find the energy to protest. My ankle throbbed, and I realized I couldn't put any weight on it.

"I'll carry you inside," he murmured.

Once we were back inside, he set me down on the couch with careful precision. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a first aid kit in hand.

He knelt in front of me, and I felt the world slow down. His hands moved methodically, cleaning the scrape on my arm and bandaging my ankle. His touch was precise, almost clinical, but there was a hint of gentleness there that made my chest ache.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice quiet and sincere.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.

Why didn't he recognize me?

"Is your name really Son?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He nodded. "Yeah. That's what Tata Lino has called me ever since he took me in."

"Took you in?" I echoed, confusion swirling in my mind. "Greco... you don't remember me?"

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment. His eyes lifted to meet mine, and he studied my face as though searching for a clue.

"No," he said finally, shaking his head. "Should I? Have we met before?"

My heart shattered at his words.

I forced a small, shaky smile. "No, not really. You just... remind me of someone I used to know."

He seemed to accept that explanation and returned to bandaging my ankle.

"Why did you call me Greco earlier?" he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

"Oh..." I hesitated, my mind racing for an excuse. "That's the name of my friend. You look just like him."

He nodded slowly, as if that made sense, but I could see that something still lingered in his eyes—a hint of doubt, maybe? Or recognition?

He didn't press further, but I could feel my heart breaking. You are Greco. I know you are. So why don't you remember me?

After finishing, he stood and scooped me up again. "I'll take you to your room so you can rest," he said softly.

His arms felt secure around me as he carried me up the stairs, but the warmth I once associated with him was missing. When we reached the guest room, he gently laid me down on the bed.

"Thank you," I said quietly, trying to meet his gaze.

But he didn't respond. He turned and left the room without another word, leaving me alone with the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume me.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Kuya Daze's number with trembling fingers. He picked up almost immediately.

"NM? What's up?" he asked, his tone casual at first. "Any news on Greco?"

I took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that still burned in my eyes. "Kuya Daze, please... don't tell anyone about this—not even Fuse. Just you and me, okay?"

His tone shifted instantly, becoming serious. "Alright. What's going on? Tell me."

I closed my eyes, clutching the phone tightly. "Kuya Daze... I found him."