A Splash of Colour

-PROLOGUE-

For a quiet moment, I watched as the screen of my phone dimmed.

Then, with a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I finally shut it down—disconnecting myself from the world.

A soft chuckle slipped from my lips.

If I had known that being selfish could bring this much relief, I might’ve done it sooner.

Now I understand what they meant by not putting all your eggs in one basket.

For years, I gave everything to my family—my time, my energy, my peace—leaving none for myself, aside from empty promises of 'next time'.

I loved them so much that I forgot to love myself, too.

So, for once—just this time—I want to indulge.

In nice things.

In ordinary things.

In the kind of life twenty-seven-year-olds are supposed to have… outside of work and survival.

The sunset stretched across the sky in shades of lavender, gold, and rose. It was breathtaking.

And yet, a strange bitterness crept in.

How many sunsets had I already lived through?

And why couldn't I remember a single one?

I had been so harsh on myself—so consumed with chasing hours—that I never paused. Never looked up.

“No, Reya…” I whispered, wiping away a single tear that slipped down my cheek.

Not this time.

This isn’t a moment for sorrow.

This time, I want to fill the days with joy.

As many as I can.

Just… happy moments.

I watched as the sun slowly sank into the vast ocean, swallowed by the horizon, while the moon revealed itself—quiet and glowing—beside a sky full of early stars.

If the breeze hadn’t chilled my arms, I might’ve stayed longer. But my stomach growled louder than my awe, so I stopped by the seaside bistro to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel.

"Hi… can I have tonight's special?" I asked after spending a whole minute staring blankly at the menu.

"And for the drinks, ma'am?" the waiter asked politely.

"I’ll have the blueberry lemonade soda." I smiled.

"Alright. Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes. While waiting, please enjoy our complimentary samosas."

I nodded in thanks. As I waited, I tuned into the live band playing nearby. Tonight's music was gentler than yesterday’s—soft acoustic chords floating through the air, matching the lull of the waves.

Suddenly, it hit me. I should take pictures! After all, Rika had insisted I borrow her digicam for this trip.

My smile faltered.

Oh no.

In my excitement, I hadn't even noticed—my bag was gone.

Thankfully, I still had a card in my pocket. I’d slipped it in earlier after paying for the henna drawn on my collarbone.

I flagged the waiter down again.

"Excuse me… can I pay for the food now and have it to go? I’ll come back for it later," I added, handing over the credit card Tammarrah had lent me.

I still felt uneasy using it, but I had no other option—not with my wallet in the missing bag.

"Also, where’s the nearest lost and found?"

"There’s one at the end of every station, ma'am," she said, returning the card.

“Thank you!”

I headed out, checking the lost and found first—but no luck.

Okay, Reya. Breathe. Retrace your steps.

I followed the path of bonfires lighting up the beach and returned to where I’d watched the sunset. Nothing. No bag in sight.

"Hi… did you happen to see a brown canvas bag here?" I asked a woman walking my way, her hair damp from a swim.

"Oh, I didn’t notice one," she said, then added thoughtfully, "Have you tried the lost and found?"

"I did… but…" I sighed.

"Oh dear." She frowned, then glanced over her shoulder. "Wait—I’ll ask my husband if he saw anything."

She jogged to the man heading toward us. They looked so put-together—like magazine people on vacation.

“A brown bag?” the husband echoed. “Yeah, I saw a guy pick one up a while ago. He was walking toward the second station.”

My heart jumped.

“Thank you!” I bowed in gratitude and took off toward Station Two.

The resort was huge—divided into six sections. I hadn’t planned to work up this much sweat on a supposed vacation.

Chasing after a stranger at night? Probably not the wisest move.

But that bag wasn’t even mine. It was Ice’s. And Rika’s digicam was in there too.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to go on vacation. I couldn’t afford this kind of stress—even in paradise.

After a bit more running, I spotted him—a man holding my bag.

He didn’t look dangerous. Dressed casually. Alone.

"Excuse me!" I called out, approaching carefully.

As he turned slightly, the scent of alcohol hit me like a slap. Strong and sharp.

He gave me a cold glance, then turned away, walking past me.

“That’s mine,” I said firmly, pointing to the bag.

He kept walking, ignoring me completely.

I clenched my fists.

Okay, Reya. Think. He’s drunk. You’re alone. But still… that’s your bag.

Before I could stop myself, I pushed him—just hard enough to make him stumble—and grabbed the bag.

Then I ran.

Heart racing, adrenaline surging, I didn’t stop until I was far enough away. But… I couldn’t help it. I looked back.

He was still lying there.

Not moving.

Guilt twisted in my gut.

Did I kill him? I didn’t even push that hard!

I walked slowly toward him, cautious.

"Hey…" I called out, prodding him with the tripod stick from the bag.

His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell steadily.

Breathing. Alive. Thank God.

“Mister… get up,” I said, poking him again.

He only groaned.

Is he really planning to sleep right here?

Judging from his tailored shirt, polished loafers, and the subtle scent of cologne still clinging to him despite the alcohol, he didn’t look like just any random drunk. No—he looked expensive.

Which only made it more baffling. Surely someone that well-off wouldn’t just collapse on the shore, right?

I could walk away. Pretend I didn’t see anything. But something told me the guilt wouldn’t let me sleep tonight if I did.

I crouched down a little closer, careful to keep my distance.

"Hey… can you bring yourself to get up?" I asked, hoping to at least get a word out of him.

Another groan.

I sighed deeply, glancing up at the sky as if hoping the stars would offer guidance.

This is going to be a long night.