WHERE BROKEN HEARTS LEAD

Kpoosh.

That was the sound of my coffee spilling-hit by something. At first, I thought it was just a bump...

But I never expected what I saw next.

A tall, feminine shadow stood in front of me. I looked up-and for a moment, I forgot everything.

She looked like she'd just walked out of heaven. My eyes widened, my mouth parted slightly, and my coffee was the least of my worries.

"Sorry," she said.

I kept staring, frozen in awe.

She repeated herself. "Sorry."

I blinked, snapping out of it. Lost in words, I barely managed to stutter out:

"Ohh... thaaat's allright."

I helped her up, forgetting completely that she was the one who spilled my drink.

"It's alright," I said.

And just like that... she left.

I stood there, mouth open, confused-astonished, really. It felt like I had just seen a ghost.

But this was the most beautiful ghost I had ever seen.

I tried to follow her, but she disappeared into the crowd.

I had a job to do, and I rushed off. But I couldn't shake the incident-it stayed fresh in my mind.

Even during my quiet moments, her image lingered. It felt like a dream. A part of me believed she was still out there.

"Zion!" my boss shouted.

Still caught in thought, I didn't respond.

"ZIONNN!"

The voice came closer.

I snapped out of it. "Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Nothing, sir... just tired, I guess."

He nodded. "Prepare the files for Antwon's murder."

"Okay, sir," I replied.

I was tired of this job. I had once wanted it so badly-but somewhere along the way, the passion had worn thin.

Still... thinking about her kept a smile on my face.

---

It was 12:30. Lunch break. I needed a snack to distract me from my inner chaos.

Back at the computer, I dove into the files: The Antwon Murder.

A high-profile case. The mayor's son.

I was lucky-or maybe unlucky-to be chosen to work on it.

I remembered seeing him at the mayor's office a month ago, right next to a beautiful lady in red at the dining table.

"Zion!" he had called.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just working," I answered.

"You look stressed. Join me?"

I wanted to. But I had to impress my boss.

"Maybe another time," I replied, walking into his father's office to deliver the files.

Now... here we were.

Fast forward to today-he was found covered in blood under a white sheet.

Shot three times in the chest. Once in the forehead.

His hands-amputated.

It wasn't just a murder. It was a message.

His father had many enemies. But the detail that caught my attention? The hand.

Only the thumb had been left intact.

This was deliberate. Planned.

We had to find the killer.

But even while my mind processed this horror, her thought crept back in-the "ghost lady."

I remembered her voice. I wished I'd asked for her number.

But I had to focus now.

Maybe nature would lead her back to me someday.

---

I left the office at noon.

To my surprise, my boss said I could take the next day off.

I think he could see the trauma eating away at me. The case, the fatigue... my life.

I needed rest.

My parents were gone. I lived alone, in a basement.

Little pay, for one of the dirtiest legal jobs around.

Sometimes I wished I was a cab driver. At least it would've been simpler.

The streets were quiet as I walked home. Olkhom was always this calm at night.

Suddenly-VROOM.

A car sped past.

A man ran after it, screaming, "Help! Help! My daughter's been kidnapped!"

He collapsed to the ground.

I rushed to him.

"Please... go after them," he begged in a weak voice.

His words moved me. I had to do something.

I could run. Or find a ride.

Luckily, his cries attracted attention. Nearby alarms were triggered. The police were alerted and, after a 15-minute chase, caught the kidnappers.

Technically, I was a cop too-but off duty.

They brought the suspects to the district palace.

At the scene, a small girl ran toward me and hugged my leg. Her father, in his fifties, saw her and broke down in tears.

Something sparked in me when she touched me.

In that moment, I knew: the only thing that could bring me peace... was love.

A beautiful lady. Some kids. Maybe then I'd find purpose again.

The father held his daughter tightly, whispering thank you to me.

"It's nothing," I said.

But it meant everything to him.

---

I was exhausted. I caught a cab and headed home.

My mind swirled-Antwon's murder, the ghost lady, the child I helped save, my job, my life.

I needed peace. But I knew it had to begin with being loved.

At my door, I found mail:

"YOUR RENT IS DUE, ZION..."

Of course. My landlord never misses.

Tomorrow was my rest day-I wouldn't let it go to waste.

I tossed my clothes aside, stepped into the tub. The water was cold-but I didn't care.

I sank in. The temperature didn't matter anymore.

I just wanted to be lost in thought.

After a while, I got out, washed up, and dried off.

I debated going through the files again... but my body refused.

I needed sleep.

And maybe, in my dreams, I'd meet the ghost lady again.