After skimming through the photos, I found one story that I had written when I first started writing, it was one of the drafts. Of the male lead, the female lead and the villain—
Male Lead – Eli and Rian: Having Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID)
Eli: Soft-spoken, thoughtful, lives a quiet life working as a freelance photographer after he quit his job after being diagnosed with mental illness. Sometimes he wakes up or gains awareness in places he doesn't recognize visiting — expensive restaurants, locked hotel rooms, rooftops overlooking the city. He has no memory of his "missing hours."
Rian: The original personality — cunning, manipulative, and ambitious. Years ago, Rian was the charismatic heir to a powerful family business with a dark side. When he fell in love with Aria, she saw through his cruelty and tried to make him better. The man she shaped — Eli — became real. But when she suddenly disappeared after a big fight, the repression broke, and Rian began resurfacing — erasing Eli's control bit by bit.
Female Lead – Aria Woods
Once an investigative journalist, now working part time jobs after quitting her main job. She left Rian years ago after she was kidnapped by the gang led by Rian Ashcroft Vale's family. She was brutally tortured and she was threatened with her father's life if she doesn't leave Rian.
It was the first project I had ever written—a story I'd long abandoned because I thought it wasn't good enough. Still, staring at it now, it felt like finding a part of myself I'd lost years ago. "I found it..!!!" I said excitedly.
With a teasing smirk, he tilted his head, one eyebrow arched. "What would you do without me?"
His tone was light, but the words lodged deep somewhere I didn't expect. My heart skipped before I could stop it. I'd grown so used to his presence—the quiet presence, the calm steadiness—that the idea of him not being there felt like a crack opening under my feet.
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The sound of the breeze through the open window, the faint scent of coffee, even the soft hum of the ceiling fan—it all blurred around the sudden weight of his question.
I wasn't sure. And that was what terrified me. I reached for the cup of tea but accidentally I knocked the cup over and the tea was spilled onto my laptop.
The laptop let out a low whine before a faint, acrid smell filled the air—burnt metal and plastic. My heart lurched. "No, no, no..." I whispered, pressing the power button, but it stayed dead, a lifeless shell.
Panic took over. All my data, old manuscripts, everything—gone? My heart dropped. I lowered my face into my hands, trying to steady my breath, but the smell of burnt circuitry made it worse—like the ashes of something irreplaceable.
Caelum rushed in almost instantly. "What happened?"
"My laptop—I spilled tea," I said, voice trembling. "There's a smell... something burned."
He crouched down beside me, inspecting it with careful hands
"The data—my work—all gone"
His hands found my shoulders, turning me toward him. "Look at me."
I shook my head, unable to speak.
His fingers hooked under my chin, tilting my face up. His eyes held mine, steady and sure. "Breathe, Rosie. Just breathe."
I tried. I really tried. But my lungs wouldn't cooperate.
He pulled me against his chest, one hand splayed across my back, the other cupping the back of my head. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a slow, grounding rhythm. I focused on it. Let it anchor me.
He murmured against my hair. "I'm here. You're safe."
I wrapped my fingers in his shirt, clinging to him. His arms tightened around me, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning.
"I've got you," he whispered. "I've got you."
His hand moved in slow circles on my back, and slowly, the panic receded. I tilted my head back, looking up at him.
His face was close—too close. His eyes searched mine, dark and intense. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.
"There you are," he said softly. "It's only a machine," he said, looking up at me, calm and sure. "But your stories—they're still here." He tapped lightly over my heart. "They live where no crash can reach."
He was right. He brought me my journal and the golden pen from my room, pressing them into my hands. His fingers lingered over mine, warm and steady.
"Write," he said softly. "Before the thoughts slip away."
I opened to a fresh page. The golden pen felt warm in my grip, humming with that familiar energy, as if it had been waiting for this moment. I wrote down about the villain on the journal-
Villain – Rian Ashcroft Vale
Rian is not a demon or possession — he's the original personality, the one who survived everything before Eli was born. He's intelligent, magnetic, and brutal in his precision. He believes Aria "killed" him by forcing him to become Eli — that she molded him into something weak. Now, he wants to take back control — and he can do that by killing Aria. He leaves messages for Eli — scrawled in photographs, recorders.
I couldn't write anymore as my stomach was growling louder than the frogs outside. I recorded the last of my scattered thoughts on my phone, then shut everything down—the writer in me, the worry, the world. I was able to do it because Caelum was with me. He calmed me down. He saved me from a nervous breakdown.
****
We walked to a small restaurant, its lights glowing like fireflies against the dark. The sound of the river ran quietly nearby, and the scent of grilled spices drifted through the air. We found a corner table where candles flickered beneath a woven lantern. The warmth of the night brushed gently against my skin, but the warmth beside me was more distracting.
Caelum ordered a few local dishes—bebek betutu, slow-cooked duck with Balinese spices, and nasi campur with tiny portions of everything. He poured me water first before serving himself, like it was his second nature. I didn't say anything, but the small gestures felt louder than words.
I started to relax—maybe too much. His laughter was easy, unforced; his gaze made me forget the cracks left behind by Rhys. Caelum was everything Rhys wasn't. Caring. Patient. Attentive.
Every time our hands brushed while reaching for food, my heartbeat stuttered. Sometimes I caught him watching me too, quiet but unashamed. There was something magnetic in it—a gravity I couldn't resist.
Then came the unexpected. A group of girls at the next table started whispering, their eyes widening. One of them hesitated, then came over, excitement written all over her face.
"Are you the author of Probability of Us?" she asked.
I smiled automatically. "Yes, I am."
"We are big fans. Can we take a photo with you—and him?" she asked, pointing at Caelum. "You two look perfect together."
Caelum looked at me, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. I hesitated, then smiled. "Of course."
He stepped closer for the photo; our shoulders brushed, our hands almost touched. I didn't correct them. I didn't say we're just friends.
And when I turned to look at him afterward, he wasn't teasing. He just smiled—slow, genuine, a flicker of something warm behind his eyes. For a fleeting second, it felt like the quiet night around us bent inward—like the universe itself agreed with them. The night was long and tiring.
****
The morning light poured softly into the villa, painting the walls golden. Caelum hadn't knocked on my door yet—a regular thing. Maybe he was still asleep. I smiled at the thought. He deserved it after how long yesterday had been.
I got ready quietly, choosing a simple outfit. Next on our journey was Nusa Penida—our escape beyond the greens of Sidemen into the blue. We'd check out after breakfast, drive to Sanur Port, and take a fast boat from there to the island. The whole trip would take about two hours thirty minutes across the sea if weather was kind, or longer if the waves decided differently.
I'd made notes from an influencer's vlog—Angel's Billabong and Broken Beach for their glassy turquoise pools, Crystal Bay where the water shimmered like glass. I wanted to snorkel there—with him. He had never done it before. Just imagining the look on his face when he would first see the underwater world made my heart flutter.
But where was he?
Caelum never slept this late. The silence in the villa felt wrong, too still, as if the walls were waiting for something.
I hesitated at his door before turning the handle. It opened easily. The room was dim, untouched—his bed neatly made. He wasn't there.
A chill slid through my veins. Maybe he'd gone out, I told myself. But then my gaze caught on the main door—locked from the inside. The key rested exactly where I'd left it last night.
My stomach twisted.
I called his name once. Then again, louder. "Caelum?"
Nothing. Only the sound of the curtains whispering in the breeze. I checked the bathroom—empty. The quiet hum of my heartbeat filled the space where his presence should've been.
I darted to the desk, papers scattered from our brainstorming last night. Maybe he left a note. Something. A sign. But there was nothing.
Something slipped off the edge of the table.
The notebook and the golden pen.
It hit the floor with a dull sound—opened the exact page where I had last written. The ink shimmered under the faint morning light.
My heart lurched. "Oh no..."
The thought tore through me like thunder. "Did I send him into the story?" My voice wavered as I stared at the open pages. "Into that terrible world... with Eli and Rian?"
My breath caught—sharp, panicked. I dropped to the floor, "Caelum!" I called as if he could still hear me, as if the walls could answer. "Please..."
Without thinking, I pressed the golden pen to the page and wrote in frantic strokes, Caelum came back to me.
I waited.
The words stared up at me in silence. Nothing happened.
Only the faint rustle of paper, the smell of ink.
I wrote again, Caelum is beside me.
The words stared up at me in silence. The room was still. Too still.
I pressed my palm to the page, as if I could feel him through the ink. "Please," I whispered. "Please come back. I didn't mean to send you away. I didn't—"
My voice cracked. Tears burned in my eyes.