Bam stood motionless under the bright fluorescent lights of the mall concourse, her forearm anchored in Oom’s trembling grasp. The bustling sounds of shoppers and ambient music faded into a dull, distant hum. With deliberate composure, Bam looked down at the fingers clinging to her sleeve, then back up into Oom’s tear-stained eyes. The fleeting flicker of recognition in her face dissolved completely, replaced by a wall of absolute, chilling indifference. "Sorry, but you mistook me for someone else," Bam said, her tone calm and politely distant. "Please, I know you're mad at me. Just hear me out, Bam," Oom pleaded, her grip tightening slightly as fresh tears gathered in her eyes. Again, Bam froze, intently looking into Oom's eyes with a slow, calculating gaze. "I told you, you mistook me for someone else," she repeated smoothly, her lips curving into a faint, unreadable expression. "But since you are insisting, let's talk somewhere proper." They settled in a quiet, high-end restaurant just around the corner of the concourse. The low lighting created a heavy, suffocating ambiance between them. For the first few minutes, Bam didn't say anything, and neither did Oom, who sat in her seat simply staring at the woman across from her, trying to make sense of the subtle shifts in her presence. "You're not wearing black," Oom noticed, her voice barely a whisper as she looked at the soft beige knit top and beige coat draped over the chair. The woman smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. "I usually dress like this." Oom sat stunned by the warmth of the smile, so starkly different from the cold fortress she had seen at the university, but she brushed it away, attributing it to her own frayed nerves. A waiter arrived shortly after, placing their orders on the table. As the woman picked up her fork and casually cut into a medium-rare steak, Oom's eyes drifted down to the woman's pale, slender wrists. "Your hands" Oom breathed softly, her forehead creasing. "Where are the bandages? How is your hand, your body, your head? Are you really okay?" "I am perfectly fine," the woman replied smoothly, slicing another piece of meat without a single trace of pain or hesitation. "Since when do you eat meat, Bam?" Oom asked, watching her in complete disbelief. "Since forever. Why?" she replied effortlessly, taking a bite and chewing with relaxed satisfaction. "I just noticed you seem different," Oom said honestly, her voice heavy with uncertainty as her eyes scanned the table. Every single detail felt wrong. The woman sat drinking plain iced water instead of black coffee, pushed the side of vegetables completely to the edge of her plate without touching them, and possessed a softer gaze that lacked the razor-sharp intensity Oom knew so well. "Is there anything you actually enjoy doing when you're not working?" Oom asked slowly, trying to find common ground to test the growing discrepancy. "What about baking? You told me before that you hated getting flour on your hands..." #oombam #bamsaralee #oomeisaya #austory #aurecommendation - @bae9779s