Todos los capítulos de - Familiar Stranger: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

Samantha’s POV** “The door creaked open. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude,” came a familiar voice. Deep, careful, and soft in the way it always had been when he spoke to me. Liam. My heart stalled. I turned, slowly. He stood just inside the threshold, one hand still on the door. “I noticed you weren’t feeling well,” He said, unsure. “I thought I’d check on you.” I opened my mouth, but words failed me. His eyes searched mine. “You just… seem familiar.” I lowered my gaze. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” He nodded, clearly not convinced. “If you need a minute, take it. Rose can wait.” Then he left—quiet as he came. And I was left shaking again, wondering if destiny was playing cruel tricks… or writing a second chance.  Liam’s POV I adjusted the cuff of my blazer as I posed beside Rose, camera flashes dancing off the jewelled embroidery of her gown. The party was nearly halfway through, and I had already shaken more hands than I could count. Smiles, laughter, champagne

Samantha’s POV** As Liam left the room, I closed my eyes, but sleep was far away. His voice still echoed in my mind. He hadn’t changed a bit—still concerned about the well-being of others. Yet, I found myself getting riled up by his concern. Who was he worried about? Was it Sanjana, with whom he used to sing, dance, and record her voice for his music album? Or was it Samantha, the journalist covering his event? I felt like a ghost, trapped between who I used to be and who I had been forced to become. My mind, uninvited, pulled me back into the cold, sterile corridors of that London hospital. Flashback Begins The smell of antiseptic was everywhere—on my gown, my body, my soul. Wires snaked across my bandaged, aching frame, tethering me to machines whose rhythmic beeping signalled a fragile survival. My body lay still, but it felt as though my soul had died. After countless surgeries and endless bandage changes, the day finally came when I could see my reflection. When I did, I wa

“Samantha PovThe quiet hum of machines had faded into the background, replaced by the muffled voices of nurses beyond the half-closed door. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to me like a second skin. *I need to freshen up. I hope Uncle Henry persuades the doctor to release me early. This place… It’s a reminder of the past. I need to get out of here.*I must’ve dozed off after Tom left. He’s kind—gentle in a way that makes me feel safe. I think he sees me as more than just a colleague. *Maybe he has feelings for me.**Should I stop him before it goes too far?*As I tried to sit up, a wave of sharp pain surged through my body.“Oh God, this pain is unreal,” I muttered. “They say I’m fine, but why does my body say otherwise?”My throat was parched. I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table when I heard voices—low, familiar.Through the thin wall and slight gap in the door, I heard them.Uncle Henry’s thick British accent.And then—**his** voice. The one I could recogni

Henry POVBecause of this meeting, I got late. Sam must be waiting for me. She would be furious—she never wanted to attend this conference in the first place. The rain was making it all the more difficult to drive. The street shimmered with reflections of neon signs, broken by the steady splash of the wipers swiping back and forth.As I neared the hotel, a blur caught my eye through the windshield.I hit the brakes hard, the tires skidding for a fraction of a second before gripping again.She was lying on the slick pavement, her hair spread in a wet halo. Liam crouched beside her, his shoulders hunched against the rain. Rose was on the other side, patting Samantha’s cheek—quick, mechanical motions, as if she wanted the appearance of helping but not the effort.“Come on, wake up,” Rose murmured, her voice sugar-sweet and far too calm for the moment.My gut clenched. I was out of the car before the door swung fully open, the cold rain soaking through my jacket in seconds.“What th

Sanjana pov “ You live them.” His words hung in the air, low and certain, as though they were meant only for me. My fingers tightened around the notepad I carried for my journalism assignments. “I sing because I have to,” I murmured, lowering my gaze. “It’s my passion… and it helps me earn a little extra for my uncle.” My voice trembled, but my chin stayed lifted. I was not ashamed of who I was. When I finally looked up, his head was tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that felt both unsettling and magnetic. His friend—the one with the kind smile—quickly stepped in. “Don’t mind him. I’m Kabir,” he said warmly. Then, gesturing to the man beside him, he added, “And this is Liam.” “Liam?” I repeated, surprised at the foreign name. His features—a blend of sharpness and quiet distance—didn’t match the familiarity of Kashmir. “Liam Turner,” Kabir explained in his halting Hindi. “We’re tourists.” He extended his hand in greeting, but I folded my palms together