The Wrong Woman

Within the confines of a narrow cell, a gentle stream of sunlight filtered through the window.

Mila lay at the edge of the bed, slipping into a deep slumber. Her hand clasped Nathan's palm tightly. The sun's rays bathed her side, casting a comforting warmth around her.

Nathan slowly opened his eyes, feeling feeble and weak. He glanced at the dilapidated ceiling before surveying his surroundings. A bitterness curled his lips. Despite having ventured through the death, he found himself back in this cursed place.

Sensing his hand being held, Nathan lifted his head and found Mila. His body stiffened in shock. He never wanted to bring her into such danger. Nathan struggled to move, hoping it was all just his dream.

Mila stirred awake at his movements. Seeing Nathan alive, she couldn't contain her excitement, rising to her feet and reaching for his forehead. "Nate, you're awake, finally."

In an instant, Nathan realized this was no dream. Grabbing Mila's wrist, anger surged within him. "Why are you here?"

Mila leaned in, disregarding his question, and gently inquired, "You've been unconscious for two days. Are you feeling alright?”

body, Nathan forcefully pushed himself up, his tone stern.

hesitated, struggling to find the

wasn't afraid of death, but her presence

a roar of anger, Nathan exclaimed, "Chubs, have

seen from Nathan. Tears blurred her vision instantly as fear and

she explained, "Yes, I've lost it. If it weren't for me finding you, you'd already be

anger, his face pale. He uttered, "I'd rather be dead than have

go of Nathan's hand, turning to leave in an

reality of their confinement sank in. With guards outside, she

was worried about her safety, but

bed unsteadily, his hand bracing against the bedside table