Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

After calling Yasin's name a few more times with no response, Quinlyn finally realized the truth—he had pushed too hard and now burned with fever, his forehead hot enough to cook on.
A dark idea crossed her mind—this might well be his final moments. He would become merely another name listed in tomorrow's casualty reports, the sort that would make readers briefly murmur "how unfortunate" before continuing with their day.
The moment should have been funny, but a heavy weight settled in her chest instead. She felt trapped, not just by circumstances, but by the grim possibility that he, of all people, might be the one to leave her behind first.
Her hand shook as she reached toward his nose, needing to feel the whisper of his breath. His fingers snapped around her wrist before she could check, startling her.
"I'm just napping," he rasped. "And you're checking my breathing already?"
"I thought—" Her voice caught. "I thought you'd stopped breathing."
"Don't worry. I'm still alive. I'll catch you crabs when this rain lets up." His eyes closed again.
Quinlyn shook his shoulder, but he'd already fallen back asleep, as if he'd stirred just long enough to comfort her, to show he wasn't leaving yet.
She almost wanted to yell at Yasin for pulling this same trick as the Narrator—keep leaving these moments unresolved. But the tightness in her chest loosened a little as she realized he would make it through today.
Looking up, she noticed the rain had lightened to a haze, the first pale streaks of sunlight breaking through.
Quinlyn took in the scene below with a slow breath. From her position, she could see everything clearly—Zachary unconscious, his head cradled in Yalena's lap, while Yalena sat hunched forward, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Not asking for help today?" Quinlyn asked, genuinely surprised by Yalena's uncharacteristic behavior. She wondered if changing the story had altered more than just her own path.
Yalena didn't look up. "Would you help me?" Her voice was flat, stripped of its usual honeyed tone. "You'd rather see me die here. Then you'll be the only heiress of the Guzman family."
The sweet act had finally crumbled, like that banana peel had knocked her pretense right off. Quinlyn almost laughed at how cheap that act must have been.
Ignoring the provocation, Quinlyn tightened her hold on Yasin's arm. She lowered her center of gravity and hauled them both up.
Though barely aware, Yasin instinctively shifted as Quinlyn clenched her jaw and struggled upright, keeping them from toppling back down toward Yalena.
"Alright, Yalena, stay here. I'm leaving," Quinlyn said, turning away.
Yalena watched her go, frustration tightening her jaw.
She had two choices—wait for help or swallow her pride and beg. She didn't hesitate for long. "I know you hate me, but Zachary's innocent. He's hurt, soaked from the rain, and this place is filthy. His watch is broken. Please help him. I'm begging you."
The world had a way of circling back, resetting the story to where it all began.
If Quinlyn agreed, things would unfold just as the original story dictated. No matter the cause, a serious accident would bind Yalena closer to Zachary, and Quinlyn would be the spark that set their hearts ablaze.
Quinlyn let out a derisive snort, glanced down at the lone banana peel she'd meant to toss away, and kicked it toward Yalena. "Turns out," she said casually, "playing the villain feels pretty good.
"By the way, Yalena, while he's out cold, go ahead and do what you needed to with him. Otherwise, you'll never get into the Fletcher family."
The words hit Yalena like a shock, then settled into a cold weight in her chest. She never expected Quinlyn to know her plan.
Quinlyn tilted her head, a mockery of reassurance in her tone. "Relax. He's fine—just unconscious."
She shrugged, feigning indifference. "There's plenty of life left in him for what you need. I'll leave you to it." Without waiting for a reply, she hauled Yasin's limp body away, her retreating back the only answer Yalena needed.
She hadn't even taken three steps when the Narrator's voice cut through the air.
[Modification: Yalena and Zachary had fallen into the gully together. He'd taken the brunt of the impact saving her, knocking himself out in the process. Quinlyn had found them like that—and then, inexplicably, she'd hauled the unconscious Yasin back instead.]
Quinlyn felt a strange clarity. The Narrator hesitated, pausing at this unexpected turn.
"In my fate, is today just the day I carry someone, no matter who it is?" she muttered.
The Narrator didn't answer the unspoken question. Instead, its voice was flat, automatic. [Fate Change Progress: 35%]
A thin smile touched Quinlyn's lips. The path was clearing before her, step by step.
Quinlyn pulled Yasin along the path, which felt more difficult than she remembered. It reminded her of dragging Zachary that other time.
The more she considered it, the more ridiculous the banana peel revenge seemed. But she wasn't actually concerned for their safety.
'Protagonists are practically indestructible,' she mused. 'Minor mishaps barely register.'
Quinlyn's assumption proved correct. She and Yasin reached the house first, barely settling in when she heard voices outside—the rescue party arriving right behind them.
"Many hands make light work," she muttered between breaths as she perched on the edge of the bed. Without bothering to change, she immediately went to fetch medicine for Yasin.
She studied his soaked clothing, realizing she'd have to remove them. After a brief hesitation, she reasoned in her mind, 'We're coworkers, and it's just a shirt.'
But when she moved to help him, he groaned before she even made contact.
"What? I haven't laid a finger on you and you're already groaning? Trying to pull something?" she muttered, one eyebrow arched.
A moment later, she realized something was genuinely wrong. His face had gone ghostly pale, eyebrows knitted in pain, teeth gritted so hard that his lips turned white.
"Yasin, are you okay?" Her voice sharpened with alarm.