As if on cue, the window became misty with rain cluttering from the outside. Cold crisp air whipped in the cafe giving chills all over the

"Really?" Vince leaned closer and now sitting on the edge of his chair. "What makes you say it’s her?" His eyes roamed around the Baroque-style architecture of the cafe looking for any signs that he was not hallucinating. That he was indeed hearing all these words from the woman who got his fiancee's eyes.

"Just a hunch," she replied. "That's why I'm here to ask you if she was the one I dreamed of," pursed her lips and regretted her words the moment it left her mouth. Her dreams flashed before her eyes crunching her heart and sending butterflies to her stomach.

Vince slammed his hand on the table causing Angie to flinch, "No you must still be dreaming." He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, it was red, filled with tears, "How--" his voice and hands began to tremble, his words faltered, covering his face with his hands. The room felt dense even when there were barely any people inside the cafe at that hour. He downed one glass of wine in an instant and asked for another glass from the waiter. His entire body tensed as he breathes in heavily. Wine, or liquor in general, always makes him relax but for some reason, it's not helping him in any way.

"Listen to me, Vince. Neither you nor I would like to be in this position," she sniffed when her nose started to run. "I honestly don't know nor understand what is happening. Or what she wanted from me. But, I figured out that if we help each other, we might find the answer." She had been keeping a straight face but her body reacted otherwise.

"Answer to what?" Vince’s voice became hoarse, cleared his throat and tugging at his brown jacket as if the clothes are suffocating him.

"To why she showed up again?" Her face now pale, "by any chance, did she say anything to you before she died?" she shifted on her seat as if every movement made her uncomfortable.

"Yes, she did," lowered his gaze when the memory slapped him on his face.

Angie leaned closer, "what?" her brown eyes twinge.

"That's none of your business," his eye looked outside the window clenching his jaw.

"Yes. You are right," she retorted. "But--" her eyes glittered with tears but her voice was clear and confident, "it's now my business ever since she showed up. I might be the only person who can help you."

"Help me with what?"

"I don't know. You tell me?"

"This is nonsense," he replied, slumped in his chair fiddling on his phone. "And why would you help me?

" Because--" her words trailed off. She choked back the tears from her eyes. Suddenly she can hardly breathe.

"Because you pity me? Or perhaps is this for a newspaper? A TV series?" His words pierced through her heart. "I am not joining your pity party. Forget it."

"You're wrong. It's nothing like that. Hear me out." Her hands and voice trembling, his accusations felt like she has been accused of something grave but she was innocent of.

"Nothing is making any sense."

"I know. I am not sure if I believe it either. But a lot of things happened and they are getting out of control," her voice began to shake as she clenched her fist and closed her eyes.

"What else do you know?" He asked. right then the wineglass toppled and the wine on the table spilled. He stood up attempting to dodge the wine but it has spilled on his pants. Trying to wipe his pants which is now damp while Angie sat down quietly. She raised her hand calling a waiter to help them out.

"And that--" pointing at the glass wine.

Vince gulped. "What about that?" Glancing at the spilled wine.

"Stop drinking if you can't handle yourself," she blinked once, stared at him. Neither of them made any sound nor moved.

A waiter approached them to clean up the table. Darkness fell as clouds cover the sky and the sun. The pit, pat sound of the rain drowned the silence between them.

"So, what do you want then?" Vince asked.

"Let me help you."

"On what?"

"On whatever she wants you to do."

"Do you have an idea what she is asking me to do?"

"Nope," she blinked several times. She was looking straight ahead but not at him but through him.

"Neither do I," he felt a soft breeze behind his ears and nape. "Wait, I think I remember now."

"What is it?"

"Why should I tell you?" He leaned back, crossed his arms, "why would you help me?"

"Because--" Angie blinked back her tears, "I want to get back to my life. For my peace of mind, and yours too." She embraced herself as if cold breeze filled the room that freezes even the depth of the soul.

"Why should I trust you?" Crossing his arms and staring intently in Angie's eyes.

"Because she did. My life has never been the same its I met you. She has been bothering me since."

Vince stared at Angie "can you describe her to me?" his eyes roaming everywhere.

Angie looked at him, and Vince saw a fierce but scared look in her eyes. "She has straight black hair that falls right above her shoulder. Brown almond expressive eyes that tell you everything without uttering a single word. She has thin red lips with small dimples right at the corner of her lips,' Vince leaned closer to Angie who did not budge. It was then he realized that she was not looking at him. "She has a scar next to her right eyebrow." She gulped, "and her name is Vicky."

"Where is she?" His shaky tone pinched Angie's heart.

She looked down and whispered, "behind you."