Chapter 5 There was a fire
Camellia woke up feeling like she hadn't slept at all.
For a few minutes, she stared at the ceiling, trying to have a clear memory of all that was going on.
Then everything came rushing back.
Her father.
The package.
The letter.
The job she had lost.
The landlord.
And the strange figure she had seen outside her window the previous night.
She sat up slowly. Today was the second day.
The second and final day her landlord had given her to leave.
Camellia looked around her room. Everything she owned was still there. Her clothes.
Her books.
The things her father had bought her over the years.
She had spent most of her life in this house. And now, in less than twenty-four hours, she was expected to leave it like it meant nothing.
She didn't even know where she was going.
She had considered using the money from the package to get a place somewhere else. But the thought of touching the money still made her uncomfortable.
Camellia got out of bed, grabbed her bag, and left the house.
The cemetery was quiet when she arrived.
She walked slowly through the rows of graves until she found her father's grave.
For a while, she stood there. She didn't know what to say.
“Hi, Dad.” She finally found her voice. “I don't know if you can hear me.”
The silence echoed. Camellia gave a small, bitter laugh.
“I probably sound crazy talking to a grave.”
She wiped her eyes. “I just . . . I don't know what to do anymore.” She crouched beside the grave. “They said you killed yourself.”
Her voice became even quieter.
“But would you do such a thing?” She stared at his name engraved on the tombstone.
“I know you, Father. You wouldn't do that."/”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I'm trying my best to find out what happened. I promise I’m trying, but it’s not just working out. Everything feels so strange. Everyone is acting strange. And now they think I’m going crazy. But I swear to you, Father, I'm saner right now than ever. Those men in that hospital really said they were your colleagues. I really don't understand why they denied it. I don't know what to do. Please help me.”
She stayed there for a few more minutes.
Then she noticed someone standing a short distance away, tending to a grave. He was wearing those familiar, shabby outfits again.
Camellia froze. She knew that face. Or at least, she had seen it before—the man who gave her an umbrella the other day.
Camellia stood up. She needed to ask if he remembered giving her an umbrella. Of course, he was going to deny it or even say he didn’t remember her. Everyone's been doing that lately.
Regardless, she found herself walking towards him.
“Excuse me, Sir.”
The man turned. His eyes landed on her. For a second, his expression changed.
Camellia stopped. She watched his eyes carefully, looking for a hint of recognition. “You remember me?”
The man stared at her a bit longer. And then something in his expression shifted, and he finally smiled. “Of course I do.”
Camellia could feel her insides relax at his reply. She had been expecting him to deny knowing her.
But God, she might have actually lost it if he'd denied knowing her too. She literally had no patience to deal with that again.
So it's a good thing he remembered.
“I thought you wouldn’t remember me.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
She didn't know how to answer that. Instead, she decided to ask the question that was sitting tightly on her chest.
“That day, where did you get it from?”
He blinked. “What?”
“The umbrella.”
“Oh. I've had it for a while.”
“Why does it have that written on it?”
“What?”
“CUPCAKE.” Camellia felt weird saying that word out loud. Not weird. Just uneasy.
He looked at her strangely. “I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“No.” The man's expression remained surprisingly calm. There was a strange silence between them.
Camellia had a lot of questions, but she didn't want to terrify the old man. Still, her curiosity and anxiety were eating her up.
“Did someone ask you to give me that umbrella?” She asked as gently as she could.
“No, Miss. I only noticed you were drenched and thought to help.”
“But you were drenched too. You didn't have to give it to me.”
“I thought you needed it more. Be careful on your way home,” the man said with a dismissive smile. And then he turned around and began walking away.
Camellia watched him disappear between the graves. She didn't know what bothered her more. The fact that he remembered her. Or the fact that his eyes seemed like he knew more than he was willing to let on.
When Camellia finally got home, she immediately noticed the black SUV parked outside.
She stopped in her tracks. Her heart began pounding. She had seen enough strange things lately to know that nothing felt normal anymore.
A man was standing beside the car. He looked to be in his forties, dressed neatly in a black suit.
Their eyes met. Camellia gulped nervously. She almost took a step back when he began approaching her.
“Camellia?” He asked, stopping a few steps away from her.
She held her bag tightly. He didn't look dangerous. But she was nervous as hell.
“Yes?”
“I’m Mr. Williams.”
She said nothing.
“I'm your father's lawyer.”
Camellia's eyes went wide. “My father's lawyer?”
“Yes.”
She looked at the car, then back at him. From what she knew, her father didn't have any wealthy connections. He was almost as poor as a church rat. Almost.
So how did a man with such an unnerving aura become her father's lawyer? It sounded too good and crazy to be true.
“Why are you here?”
“I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
He reached into a folder and brought out a letter. Camellia's eyes immediately went to it.
Her heart skipped.
Another letter. She didn't take it immediately.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your father gave it to me before he died.”
“My father?”
He nodded. “He instructed me to give it to you when the time was right.”
Camellia finally took the letter. Her hands were shaking. She opened it. The handwriting was unmistakably her father's.
She read through it quickly. Her father's words were simple.
He wanted her to leave.
To start over somewhere else.
To never look back.
Camellia looked up at the lawyer. “Why?”
“Your father believed you would be safer away from this town.”
“Safer from what?”
The lawyer hesitated. “I don't know, Miss. I'm only doing what he asked me to do.”
Camellia looked down at the letter. “Was my father in trouble? Did he do bad stuff?” She was struggling with the tears clogging her throat.
The lawyer didn't answer immediately.
“He was dealing with some people,” he finally answered.
“What people?”
“I don't know.”
She looked up sharply. “You're his lawyer, and you don't know?”
“I handled his legal affairs. Not his private life.”
Camellia stared at him. His explanation wasn't enough. Not even close.
“But the police said he killed himself.”
The lawyer's face changed slightly. “And you don't believe that?”
“I believe someone killed him.”
He was quiet. Then he said, “Sometimes, Camellia, the truth isn't as simple as we want it to be.”
She looked at the letter again. Everything felt like another puzzle. Her father had wanted her to leave.
But why? Why hadn't he simply told her himself? Why did everyone keep giving her pieces of information without the full story?
The lawyer looked at his watch. “You should go in and pack. I'll be here tomorrow to pick you up.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere you want.”
She laughed bitterly. “That's easy for you to say.”
“I can help you settle into your new life. If you'd let me.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
Again, that answer. Her father's name seemed to be the explanation for everything.
She didn't like it. But she had no better option.
The next morning, Camellia had her stuff packed already and left in Mr. Williams’ car.
He drove her to the airport. She sat quietly in the passenger seat, holding her duffel bag on her lap. Her suitcase was in the trunk. The umbrella with CUPCAKE written on it was inside. She couldn't explain why she had brought it with her.
The journey to the airport was quiet. The lawyer barely spoke.
Camellia looked out the window, feeling deeply bitter and helpless.
She was leaving her hometown. The place where she had grown up. The place where her father had died. The place that had suddenly become too strange for her.
She'd always wanted to leave someday. But not like this. A broken heart. A shattered life. A confusing future. The hole in her heart that would always be there because she didn't get to uncover the mystery behind her father's death.
Whatever new life awaited her, Camellia was sure she wouldn't be happy. Not even a little bit.
When they arrived at the airport, Mr. Williams helped her with her bag, and then he turned to her.
“Take care of yourself," he said calmly.
Camellia nodded. “Thank you.”
Then she started heading inside. Every step she took felt heavy. She was biting her lip, trying to keep it from shaking so badly. Good Lord, she was a breath away from bursting into tears.
Why does she feel even sadder than when she laid her father to rest?
She turned around one last time. Maybe, just maybe, the lawyer would change his mind and decide she could stay.
Mr. Williams was on a call with someone, and he was looking around. Camellia watched him, trying to understand what he was looking for.
Then he finally put the phone down and bowed. Slightly. Like a slight nod of his head. But Camellia saw it.
Her eyes moved in the direction he'd bowed to. There were two black SUVs parked a little distance from where Mr. Williams stood.
Her stomach tightened. Who are they? She was feeling those goosebumps again. Images of that silhouette watching her the other night flashed in her head. And somehow that prompted her to start walking and never look back again.
Camellia had barely settled into her seat when her phone began ringing.
She looked at the screen. Maria.
She hesitated before answering.
“Hello?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Maria?”
“Camellia …!” She sounded frantic.
“What's wrong?”
“Where are you?”
“I'm at the airport.”
“The airport?”
“Yes. Why?”
Maria didn't answer immediately.
“Maria, what's going on?” Camellia was growing very anxious. She hated the suspense. What the hell was happening?
“Are you sure you're at the airport?”
“Yes.”
“Then …” Maria's voice broke.
“What?”
“The house.”
Camellia's heart dropped. “My house?”
“Yes. They said there was a girl inside when…”
“When what?”
“When it exploded.”
Camellia froze. “What do you mean, exploded?”
“There was a fire.”
Camellia stopped breathing for a moment.
“Camellia, your house…” Maria struggled to continue. “It got burnt to ashes.”
Camellia stared ahead. For a few seconds, she couldn't hear anything else.
The recent events replayed in her head.
Her conversation with the landlord.
The mysterious figure outside her window.
The package.
The man at the cemetery.
The lawyer.
The two black cars
she saw a while ago.
And now her house is gone.
She tightened her grip around her phone.
“Maria…”
“Yes?”
Camellia bit her lip harder. But it was useless. Tears were already rolling down her cheeks in heavy torrents.
“Why would anyone want to hurt me?” Her voice trembled. She'd never been this terrified in her life.
