Chapter 6: Just Another Sad Song

Chris slowly emerged from her reverie, her eyes returning to the now familiar gravestone before her. It read: Carina Novell... Christina Richardson, the original owner of this body, had lived with her single mother, Carina Novell. Her mother was Italian, while her father... Well, she knew nothing about the man who had never been a part of her life. All she knew was that her mother had left her own family in Italy to chase after this 'invisible' man, a father who remained a ghost in her life. This was the one thing Christina Richardson and Chris shared: the absence of a father’s love. But Christina was still fortunate to have a mother who genuinely loved her, unlike Chris, whose mother had used her solely to revive her own faded fame. In the five years since she’d become Christina Richardson, Chris had learned a great deal about the original owner of this body. Christina had endured a pitiful childhood, growing up without the warmth of a father’s love. Her life became even more challenging when her mother was involved in a tragic accident, falling into a coma for three long years before finally losing her battle for life. Christina was only sixteen when she was left alone in this world, forced to fend for herself. It was the kindness of her best friend Wendy's parents that kept a roof over her head. But there were still countless unanswered questions swirling in Chris's mind. For instance, why had the original Christina Richardson gone to the cemetery on the day she died? And how did she die so suddenly? These were just a couple of the many mysteries surrounding Christina’s life. With no recollection of Christina’s memories, Chris often felt like an imposter, living in someone else’s skin. Though Carina Novell and Christina Richardson had no direct connection to her, Chris couldn’t help but return to this place, time and time again. Whenever she felt lost or overwhelmed, she would find her way to the Small Hill Cemetery at the outskirts of the city, a quiet place where she could reflect and find solace. To honor Christina’s memory, Chris had buried all of Christina’s old belongings right beside her mother’s grave. She felt that this was where the original Christina Richardson truly belonged, and even though they were strangers, Chris felt a deep sense of gratitude toward both mother and daughter. Carina Novell had given birth to Christina, and Christina had, in turn, given Chris a new chance at life, a new beginning. Strangely, Chris found peace in this ritual. Burying Christina’s possessions beside her mother’s grave had brought her a sense of closure, a soothing sensation that spread through her entire being. As she often did, Chris pulled a rose from her purse and gently placed it before the gravestone, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I've come to see you again..." Chris's voice was thick with emotion, her gaze distant as she stared off into the horizon. Wendy had once told her that Christina had always dreamed of being a stable white- collar worker, living a peaceful and ordinary life. And that was exactly what Chris was striving to achieve now, honoring Christina’s unfulfilled dreams. Before long, raindrops began to fall, a light drizzle at first. But Chris didn’t move. Over the years, she had formed a deep bond with the rain. After all, it had been there to accompany her when she had died. It had also witnessed her rise from the dead, like a Phoenix emerging from the ashes. As the droplets of rain kissed her skin, she felt as if the heavens themselves were caressing her, comforting her. It was a soothing balm to her soul, easing the tension in her heart. A smile graced Chris's lips as she tilted her head back, letting the rain fall on her face. "You really have a way of cheering me up," she laughed softly, as if the sky itself had whispered sweet words of comfort to her. "Thanks for the pep talk!" she shouted playfully at the sky, her laughter ringing out amidst the falling rain. Reluctantly, Chris turned to leave, saying her goodbyes to the gravestone before making her way down the small hill. As she skipped down the path, her clothes slowly soaked through, she couldn’t find a taxi to take her home. Standing by the roadside, she hummed a beautiful melody, her blouse clinging to her skin as it grew wetter by the minute. Yet she didn’t seem to mind, lifting her hand to catch the raindrops, her voice rising to sing along with the rhythm of the rain. *I've been holding on too long I've been holding on too long But those promises of forever Were never meant to be strong* The rain intensified, and so did her voice, rising in harmony with the storm. *I saw a notion in his eyes I wonder if he saw something In the wake of my smile I wrote a story of our love I wonder if he heard the call Of my yearning heart* Her head fell back again, letting the raindrops assault her senses, the cool water mingling with the warmth of her breath. *Oh, look I'm dreaming again With only my wishful thinking Even when I know, This is just another sad song* Her blouse was now completely soaked, clinging to her figure like a second skin, the thin fabric highlighting the contours of her body. *But I was holding onto it for too long I wonder if he finally saw me falling apart I wonder if he heard the melody of my heart Singing just another sad song* Her voice softened to a whisper as she sang the last verse, her breath catching in the cool air. A sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself, lost in the moment, watching the raindrops dance in the air. So absorbed was she in the rain, she didn’t notice the figure standing behind her until a warm coat was draped over her shoulders. Startled, Chris blinked in confusion, looking down at the brown coat now resting on her shoulders. It was warm, comforting. But how had it gotten there? Lifting her gaze, she caught sight of a strong, broad-shouldered figure retreating toward a waiting Rolls-Royce. The man was clad in a button-up shirt, his back to her as he climbed into the car. "Hey!" Chris called out, lifting a hand, but the car had already pulled away, the engine revving as it disappeared down the road. She frowned slightly, clutching the coat to keep it from slipping off her shoulders. "You could have offered me a lift if you really wanted to help," she muttered to herself, but she eventually shrugged it off. At least he had shielded her from the wind. It was a kind gesture, and she decided to be content with that. Just then, a taxi pulled up beside her, and she gratefully climbed inside, finally escaping the rain and cold. On the ride back, she found herself staring at the coat with a mix of fascination and bewilderment, turning it over in her hands as if it held some secret. To Chris, the coat was not just a piece of clothing; it was a symbol of unexpected kindness, a reminder that there were still people in the world willing to lend a helping hand to a stranger. The intricate design and expensive fabric suggested that it belonged to someone wealthy, a rich scion perhaps. She pursed her lips in thought, groaning in exasperation before finally deciding not to overthink it. It was just another act of kindness, after all. And for Chris, that was more than enough.