Tick tock. Tick tock. Time moves slowly for those who wait. For the past half hour, I've been in session with Viktor. I haven't told him a single damn thing yet. I don't want to. I just want our time to be over so I don't have to see his stupid face.

    That's the main problem. I can't talk about Kristian when Viktor looks like him. It wouldn't seem right because I'd be admitting my feelings to some stranger who resembles him, yet isn't him. That sounds confusing. I just don't feel comfortable with this particular subject. I'm not being unreasonable, right?

    I know I'm wasting both of our time by sitting here and keeping a tight lip. I'd rather indulge Marya with my mortal life than be stuck in Viktor's "office" staring at the clouds outside. Ugh! How I wish I were outside, sitting under a tree writing a song right now.

    Viktor's office is neither stuffy nor small. In fact, it's the size of a small concert venue like The Forum. It's very...Kristian too.  The way this room is decorated, I feel like I'm at Kristian and Daniel's flat. I can imagine anime trinkets on Kris' shelf and simple, yet stylish décor. I can also envision a Bulgaria flag and other Bulgaria-related things sprawled around. It's kinda freaky.

    "You're not helping anyone by keeping your mouth shut, Nicchi," Viktor spits. "Time's almost up and you've said nothing yet."

    "And your point?" I snap back. "Don't call me by my last name, okay!"

    He scoffs and pulls my chair closer to him. Now the tips of our shoes are touching. We're uncomfortably close for my liking.

    "You obviously don't like me because I look like Kristian," he remarks. "Don't deny it, Parisa. That's already been established."

    "That's not why I hate you," I grumble, irritably crossing my arms. "You look nothing like Kr—"

    "Regardless of your feelings, you still have to talk to me. You'll never get better if you pent up your thoughts and feelings. I'm here to help you. What do you not understand about that?"

    "Your attitude, for starters. You just seem too cocky to me. You run the place, which seems like you're entitle to whatever you want. But let me tell you something. You're not. You know nothing about Kristian, me, or the life I lived. You might think you know since I'm a celebrity or whatever, but you don't. You know jack shit, Viktor!"

    Viktor slowly claps his hands. I don't know if he's being condescending or legitimately applauding me for having the balls to call him out. It's hard to tell with his stoic expression, something I'm not used to seeing on Kristian's face.

    He's not Kristian, I have to remind myself. My eyes flicker down to his throat and I sigh. He's not wearing your ring; that's proof enough he isn't your Kristian. Then there's the way he's mocking you. Kris would NEVER do such a thing because h—

    "That's why you are here," Viktor rudely disrupts my thoughts. He eyes my bracelet and smirks. You want to know about that candy on your wrist—what happened at your funeral?"

    "Y-yeah. Of course I do!" I cry. "What a silly question to ask!"

    "Our time is nearly up, but I'll make an exception since you're stubborn and refuse t—"

    "I AM NOT STUBBORN! There's a difference between stubbornness and thinking someone's untrustworthy."

    "Just follow me. I promise it's not a trap."

    "That's what they all say," I mutter under my breath, rising from my seat.

    Viktor rolls his eyes and scoffs. Without a snide comeback, he walks away, most likely expecting me to follow.

    I don't. I suspiciously spectate instead.

    Yet he doesn't do anything odd or slightly incriminating. He sits at his massive wooden desk and opens a drawer on its top right side. Okay. That's not unusual. Neither is the handheld mirror he takes out. I'd say he's vain from the way he's spoken to me, so I'm not surprised he keeps a mirror in his drawer.

    Viktor catches me watching him and smirks again. He so thinks I'm checking him out. Ugh, he needs to get a grip and realize I'm not interested in him at all. I don't care if he physically resembles Kristian; he's a grade A jerk.

    "Come here," he instructs. "I have something to show you."

    "What? Is it your reflection? I'm not interested if that's it."

    "No, it's not my reflection! Geeze, Parisa! This is important; it's about your funeral."

    My eyes widen. I freeze, unable to process what I just heard. He didn't, did he? Does he have info on your funeral or is he pulling your leg?

    "I'm serious! I told you I have news of your funeral. I wouldn't lie to you about anything that serious. I'm not a monster. Jus—come have a look. You can leave once it's over," he swears, his eyes blinking back at me like a puppy begging for attention.

    Defeated, I drag myself over to his desk. It's hard to say 'no' to those eyes. How can I when—it's not fair! Viktor is using his looks to his advantage! When he learned I'd be coming here, he probably studied Kristian for situations like this. Well played to him.

    I pull up a chair, positioning it directly across from Viktor. He stuffs the mirror back into the drawer and retrieves a colorful, soft globe. He slams the globe on top of the desk, placing it perfectly between us, and points at it like he's Vanna White exposing a new letter on the Wheel of Fortune board.

    My only response is to squint at the globe in confusion.

    "Guess what this is," Viktor says like an over-excited child who just found out he's going to Disneyland.

    "Um...a soft globe?" I answer, still unsure of where he's heading.

    "It's not just any globe, Parisa. This is a special globe. Това е магическо (it's magical)."

Viktor shouldn't be allowed to speak Bulgarian. He reminds me way too much of Kristian when he does and it's upsetting. I'll never see him again a—

"What. Is. Happening?" I whisper, unable to keep my eyes off of the globe.

It's completely pitch black except for the bright pink light beaming from the globe. Viktor placed a hand on it a few seconds ago and suddenly, this happens!"

"Told you it is magical," he brags. "You should start listening to me from now on. Your time here will be better if you do. Now watch very carefully. Try not to blink. You might miss something if you do."

Again, my skepticism hinders any trust towards Viktor. My ego says he's playing tricks, but my gut surprisingly believes him.

A ray of light shines into my eyes, knocking me back into my seat. Seconds later, a stream of videos play before me like a home video projected on the wall. They're not random events from my life; they're scenes from my funeral day.

Through Kristian's lenses, the day of my funeral vividly appear. I stare at myself—Kristian, ashen with grief as he fixes his tie. He holds my ring up to his lips and kisses it, whispering "I love you" afterwards. My heart's already breaking and this is just the beginning.

Next, he's in a limo with Daniel and Giovanna. I'm glad he at least had Dani to keep him company and at ease. Every ounce of anxiety and pain Kristian feels, I can feel it too. It's as though I am him. He's worried about meeting my parents and feeling like an intruder since he's neither Italian of Persian. I get it. I totally understand. I've been there before.

The scenes swiftly continue from Kristian's meltdown outside the church to the moment he met my parents and had a heart to heart with my mom. I want it to stop right here so I don't become an emotional wreck. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean my emotions have switched off. I'm still me despite being dead.

Of course the torture continues and I see everything. I watch as Kristian approaches my coffin, tearfully clasps the bracelet onto my wrist, and sit through the funeral. Then, the scene changes and he's at my grave saying his final goodbyes. When he sings the mashup of our songs, I feel my body shake and I start bawling. And he stops singing at this point to cry too.

"I love you so much, Parisa, and I hope Heaven is treating you well. I'll see you soon My Angel."

Suddenly, I'm panting. The lights are back on and I'm back to reality. Viktor, seeming pleased with himself, shoots a smug tight-lipped smile that unattractively increases his arrogance. He drums his fingers on the table, waiting for my verbal reaction to whatever Afterlife sorcery that was.

"How did you like your funeral?" he casually asks.

"I didn't think I'd see it through Kristian's eyes!" I angrily respond. "That was pure torture! I felt everything he did and it was heartbreaking! Poor Kris..."

"On a more positive note, you know he cares deeply about you."

"Yeah. Yeah, he does." I sigh with a small smile.

"Great! Well, that concludes our session for today. You need time to recover from that, so I will see you in three days at the same time. We will take a glimpse at present day."

I turn on my heels despite being halfway to the door at this point. I bolted the moment he said "concludes."

"P-present day? You meant that thing—that globe can show me what's happening to my family, Gi, and Kristian r—"

"Right now? Yes. In three days, Parisa. Now go!"

A/N:

I'm so sorry it took so long for me to write a chapter that isn't even 2k words long. But I just want to thank you guys for sticking around and being so supportive. We're so close to 2K reads and omg it would be absolutely amazing to reach it! 

I promise the next one will be longer. I've set this chapter up so it perfectly transitions into the next one, which will be in Kris' POV.

Love you guys loads! xx