My head felt like it was about to split open.

 

Gradually, my eyes opened. I felt a throbbing pain at my temple, and grimaced as I raised my hand to my head.

 

It was bandaged.

 

“Natasha?”

 

My eyes found Lay at the corner of the hospital bed I lay on. He watched me anxiously. “Are you feeling all right?” He whispered, lightly touching my arm.

 

“My head,” I gritted out, clenching my jaw to deal with the pain. I tried to sit up, and immediately felt a wave of dizziness wash over me.

 

“No, Natasha, you need to rest,” Lay murmured, gently pushing me back onto my pillows.

 

I shut my eyes with a sigh. “What happened?”  

 

Lay was quiet for a minute. “Chanyeol was here, with you, all night. He didn’t want to leave your side, but he needed to rest.” He shook his head. “He’s in another room right now. Sleeping.”

 

I frowned as I blinked at Lay. “But why am I…”

 

Suddenly, I gasped.

 

I remembered.

 

“No way. You play the drum too?” I looked at Chanyeol, full of wonder.

 

He grinned. “The guitar’s the closest to my heart. I can’t go anywhere without it.”

 

We were strolling down a deserted alleyway, sharing a steaming mug of tea. Even with Chanyeol’s coat wrapped around my shoulders, it was cold. “Are you sure you don’t want your jacket? It’s so cold.”

 

Chanyeol kicked a pile of snow. “Ah, well, I’m freezing.” He gave me a look.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I felt guilty. “Here, take it back.” I began to remove Chanyeol’s jacket when he stopped me.

 

“No, that won’t do. If you give me your jacket, you’ll be cold. If you wear my jacket, I’ll be cold.” His eyes sparkled. “What should we do?”

 

I had no idea. “Buy a heat pack?”

 

Chanyeol laughed. Grabbing his jacket from my shoulders, he slipped it on. Before I could protest, he hugged me from behind. His jacket was wrapped around the both of us, and my back pressed into his chest.

 

“Warmer?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Warmer,” I agreed. We continued walking down the path, and I took a sip of our tea.

 

“Oh, you should probably wear this.” Chanyeol dangled a pair of sunglasses in front of my face. “If the fans see us, it’s all over.” We were nearing the end of the alleyway, and I could hear the bustling noises outside.

 

I slipped on the shades. “So we’re going skating?”

 

“Yeah. We have to be discreet, though. You know how hard it was to sneak out here, avoiding all those stupid bodyguards.”

 

“What about you? What’s your disguise?”

 

Pulling away from me, Chanyeol wrapped a heavy scarf around his face. I could barely see his eyes, hidden under his toque and disguised behind the scarf. “I brought you something else too.” Chanyeol whisked out a decorative surgical mask.

 

I pouted. “Do I have to?”

 

“You’ll need it. Trust me.” Chanyeol slipped the mask over my face, tucking it behind my ears.

 

Ten minutes later, we were at the skating rink. I waited for Chanyeol as he slipped on his skates. When he was ready, I pulled him to the ice. “1, 2, 3,” I counted.

 

Clutching his hand, I stepped onto the ice. “Oh god,” exclaimed Chanyeol, struggling to remain on his feet. His voice was muffled behind the scarf.

 

I giggled. “This should be fun.”

 

Gradually, we began to skate together. We had to stay in sync, so that neither of us would fall and drag the other down to the ice.

 

“Right foot, left foot. Right, left. Right, left,” chanted Chanyeol. I began to fall into the rhythm.

 

We began to skate faster. Round and round we went, speeding around the rink. I laughed, loving the rush. My hair flew out behind me.

 

I let go of Chanyeol’s hand as I began to race him. The rink flashed past in a blur, and I whizzed by the people surrounding us. “Hey!” Chanyeol shouted out as he fought to keep up. Adrenaline pulsed in my veins.

 

Suddenly, Chanyeol flew past me. “Why so slow?” He yelled, flashing me a grin before speeding away.

 

The scarf was gone.

 

“Wait--Chanyeol!” I screeched. Grabbing the scarf that lay discarded on the ice, I skated as hard as I could to catch up with him. “Chanyeol! Your scarf!” I yelled shrilly.

 

Suddenly, heads turned towards me as people recognized his name. Before I could call him once more, Chanyeol had disappeared into a rapidly forming crowd of fans.

 

I cursed under my breath. It was too late to give him his scarf now.  

 

By the time I had reached the mob, it was growing out of control. “Please--no--excuse me,” I spluttered, forcefully shoving through the crowd. Chanyeol was trapped in the middle, helpless.

 

I had almost reached Chanyeol when I came face-to-face with an angry fan. She had a pudgy face, her eyes narrowing as they glared at me. “Who do you think you are?” she shrieked. “We want to meet him too, ! Wait your turn.”

 

Suddenly enraged, I pushed her. “I came here with him, ,” I spat out heatedly. “Leave us alone.”

 

Before I knew it, all the attention had shifted to me.

 

“Look here, who’s this girl?” Out of nowhere, my mask was ripped from my face. I was exposed.

 

“It’s her!” Gasps arose from the crowd. “The secret lover!”

 

The secret lover?

 

Someone shoved me from behind. “How dare she take Chanyeol from us?” A girl’s voice yelled. “She’s not even Korean!”

 

“Let’s show her!” Another fan screeched angrily.

 

I felt paralyzed with powerlessness as the mob began to advance on me. “Wait,” I stammered, starting to feel panicked. I raised my hands, trying to protect myself. “I’m--I’m just--”

 

Suddenly, my head jerked backwards. A hand brutally grabbed my hair, tugging violently. “Go back to Canada, ,” A girl hissed. Another hand rose to slap my face, knocking my sunglasses to the ground. I reeled backwards, flailing as I struggled to remain on my feet.

 

“Chanyeol!” I shrieked, blinking away the stars that clouded my vision.

 

Suddenly, a skate rammed itself into the side of my head.

 

The last thing I saw before my head struck the ice was Chanyeol. He had fought free from the rest of the crowd, and was running towards me.

 

He was screaming.

 

“Natasha.”

 

Suho gave me a gentle shake. I hadn’t noticed him entering the room.

 

“I’m fine, really,” I said. “Where’s Chan--”

 

“Natasha,” he repeated. “There’s someone wanting to see you. He claims to be your boyfriend.”

 

.

 

I looked at Suho, my eyes widening. “What?”

 

Before I could ask any more, the door slammed open. Ahmad rushed into the room, panting. “Natasha,” he gasped.

 

“Ahmad?” I whispered, feeling dread flood my stomach.

 

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

 

Ahmad collapsed beside my bed, grabbing my hand. “We need to talk.” I met his burning stare as he clutched my hands tightly. His voice was rigid, tense.

 

Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know.”

 

“Jessica’s outside too,” added Suho.

 

“Tell her to go home,” I interrupted. My eyes dropped to my hand, which was enveloped in Ahmad’s grasp. “Tell everyone to go home.”

 

Suho nodded immediately, making his way to the door. Lay followed him out of the room.

 

Heaving a sigh, I turned back to Ahmad. “You actually flew all the way over here?”

 

“I did. You know why? I read everything,” he replied bitterly. “Everything. Did you read everything, Natasha? The articles? The news?”

 

Was he mocking me?

 

“No, I didn’t. Just get to the point.”

 

Out of nowhere, Ahmad grabbed my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It says you’re with him,” he spat out. “That guy. Him.” He couldn’t bring himself to say Chanyeol’s name.

 

Whatever I had planned to say stopped short in my throat.

 

I opened my mouth, but Ahmad cut me off. “But you’re not, Natasha. You’re mine.” He sighed, suddenly drained of anger. “You’re my girl. You’ve always been my girl, right?” His hand shot to my throat, swiftly pulling out the necklace that hid under my gown. “You said you’d never forget,” Ahmad whispered. His eyes had a pleading look.

 

I blinked. Ahmad had never acted like this.

 

“Ahmad, stop.” I pulled his hand away from my necklace. I didn’t know what more to say.

 

“It’s not true, right? You’re not dating him? You wouldn’t do this to me.”

 

A minute of silence passed. “I’m not dating him,” I finally said. “We’re not in a relationship.” This much was true.

 

Ahmad relaxed, sinking to the ground. “I’ve always trusted you,” he said softly. “I always did.” He sounded like he was reassuring himself.

 

I turned away from him, quickly swiping away a tear. “I know.”

 

I knew that he trusted me.

 

What Ahmad didn’t know, however, was that I had completely forgotten about him.