Back into Your Arms: Chapter Five [ENG]

BiYA Chapter V

"Could you... look into all the latest information regarding Joseph Banara?"

The bearded man looked as if he wanted to ask something, but he held back and smiled. "Of course, Miss Iona. I will get on it as quickly as possible."

Iona simply smiled until the man—one of the 'Mas Bros,' as she called all her bodyguards—left the room. For a moment, she had completely forgotten that Stella’s father was already at the front of the house. In fact, he might already be heading up to the third floor, where Iona’s room was located.

Iona’s mind was likely a whirlwind of emotions right now. However, at the very least, she knew she was incredibly lucky to have transmigrated into Stella’s body; she was so 'revered' and belonged to such an influential family. Perhaps all that was left was to adjust and adapt, while slowly finding a way to win Joe’s heart back.

"But... how do I make Joe fall in love with Stella?" Iona murmured while looking at her face in the mirror. But she gasped in shock at the reflection staring back at her. It wasn't Stella’s features, but Iona’s own face—looking radiant and beautiful in a white gown.

Source: Gemini

Here is the translation for the next part, keeping the emotional contrast between Iona's internal trauma and Buana’s dramatic personality:

"Is that... my soul's true form?" Iona whispered to herself. She brushed it off, thinking she might be hallucinating—seeing her old reflection in the mirror out of sheer habit. She stood there, lost in thought, reflecting on her past life. She felt a deep pity for her old self. Poor Iona, who had failed to chase down her true love and instead met her end hit by a truck. Just remembering that horrific incident made her shudder with dread.

"STELLA, LIGHT OF MY HEART!"

Iona jolted in surprise. She scrambled up from her vanity chair, looking around to find the source of the voice.

"STELLA? MY DEAREST CHILD?"

She trembled as she realized the unfamiliar voice was drawing closer. It stopped right in front of her door. Before she could even prepare herself, the ornate, luxuriously carved teak door swung wide open. A muscular man stood there, visibly holding back tears. He threw his arms wide as if reaching for a hug, then strode toward Iona—who was still inhabiting Stella's shaking body.

"How is your body feeling now, sweetheart? Forgive Daddy, okay? I’m so sorry I’m only just visiting you today. I was stuck in Japan yesterday, handling so many things. My plane was delayed over and over—I don't know why my luck was so rotten!" Stella’s father whined, a tone that sat in stark contrast to his rugged, burly physique. "But know this, darling, you are a miracle! How is it possible to recover from so many injuries in just a week, hey! You truly are my daughter!"

He refused to let go of the hug, clearly overwhelmed with joy to be holding his youngest child. Meanwhile, Iona was at a loss for words, frantically trying to think of how Stella would usually respond.

"Why are you so quiet, honey? Do you not like that Daddy is here?"

Iona’s brows furrowed. How could her father react like this? What exactly was the dynamic between this father and daughter?

"I-it’s not that, Father. Iona—I mean, Stella is just tired."

"Oh goodness, forgive me! I forgot you haven't fully recovered yet!" Buana, her father, released his grip and gently guided her to sit on the bed. "It’s me, Stella’s Daddy—Daddy Buana. Are you feeling better? Is anything still hurting? Should I call the doctor again?"

Iona forced a smile and shook her head.

"Oh, I shouldn't be forcing you to talk, should I?" Buana looked deeply saddened, dramatically covering his own mouth. Yet, his eyes shone with genuine, immense love for his daughter.

"It’s okay, Father. I’m just a little confused."

"In that case, Daddy will let you rest. I’ll call the doctor to check on you later, okay? I’m going to head out now. After this, just call me and ask for anything you want. Daddy is just in his room, okay? Stay healthy, my dear Stella!" Buana kissed the top of Iona’s head tenderly and left the room.

Now alone, Iona collapsed back onto the bed. The sheets had already been changed to meta-white, her favorite color. Despite the lingering headache, she found herself smiling again. Вe shifted her focus to admiring Stella’s magnificent room. Her mind might be a whirlwind of emotions, but amidst the chaos, there was a sliver of gratitude. She was lucky to have transmigrated into Stella; a girl so 'revered' within such an influential family. Now, her only task was to adapt to this luxury while plotting a way to win Joe’s heart back. At least, for now, all of this belonged to her.

"Maybe I should redecorate?" Iona murmured, stifling a laugh.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Source: Gemini

Joe rubbed his face roughly until his skin turned red. He couldn't bring himself to delete the photos of his memories with Iona. Hundreds of photos, gathered into a single folder, were all he stared at. Time and again, he hesitated to hit 'permanently delete.' He was terrified of the regret—the fear that if he did, he’d have nothing left to remember the late Iona by. The spiral of thoughts was driving him mad.

"Sir? Mr. Joe?" Joe looked up. He found his secretary, Tara, standing there with a stack of folders cradled in her arms. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked politely.

"Just a slight headache, but I’m okay. What brings you here?"

"I’ve brought last month’s financial reports, sir. You need to review the details."

Joe tapped his forehead a few times, trying to banish the intrusive thoughts that had been haunting him lately. "Just leave them there. Thank you, Tara."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Tara, could you make me a cup of coffee?"

"Ah, of course. Right away, sir!"

Joe simply nodded, put his phone down, and refocused on his work. Even his busy life as a CEO of one of his family's companies couldn't make him forget Iona. If anything, his mind felt more cluttered. In reality, all he wanted was to be someone useful for his mother and his family.

Not long after, Tara returned with his favorite white coffee. Even though he had asked for it himself, just the scent of the aroma made his chest tighten suddenly.

Damn it! he cursed internally.

"Maybe you're just not suited for sports, your talent is painting anyway!" Joe's own voice echoed in his memory. He poured the warm white coffee from a small thermos into his white mug.

"See! There you go! Drinking coffee again! Why not just tea? They both have caffeine! Coffee shortens the lifespan of those who drink it, you know!" Iona had nagged him peevishly. But Joe had ignored her words, continuing to sip the brew.

"Oh, so that's how it is now."

"Yes, yes, my beautiful, chatty Iona! You only say that because you've never actually tried coffee! Try it, just once. I’m a hundred percent sure you’ll get addicted too!" Joe had argued, playfully trying to coax his girlfriend into joining his habit.

"I just don't like it; it doesn't suit my palate. Especially white coffee! I hate it," Iona hissed, as if talking about something disgusting.

"Is that so? Well, at least you like me."

Iona had laughed so loudly then, making Joe join in, simply admiring how beautiful his girlfriend looked. But that crisp, melodious laughter now only echoed in his head, no longer a sound he could hear in reality. He used to hear that favorite sound of his almost every single day.

"Sir? Is something wrong?"

Joe snapped out of the abyss of his thoughts. "It's nothing. Thank you, Tara. You may return to your office."

"Thank you, sir."

Joe closed his eyes tightly, trying to steady his breathing.

"Turns out, forgetting you is hard, Na. Not as easy as I thought."

＊✿❀　❀✿＊

The neurologist adjusted his glasses, looking at Fiki and Buana with a serious yet calm expression. In front of him, several brain scans of Stella were displayed.

"Well, Mr. Fiki. Miss Stella's case is quite unique," the doctor began. "Physically, the injuries from the assault are healing. However, psychologically, Miss Stella is experiencing what we call post-traumatic Identity Dissociation."

Fiki furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, Doctor? She thinks she's someone else?"

"Exactly. In cases of severe retrograde amnesia, the brain can perform extreme self-defense mechanisms. Because the assault involved many people, her brain recorded the event as an existential threat—a trauma too large for her original identity to bear," the doctor explained, pointing to the temporal lobe area on the scans.

"Being 'Stella' means being a helpless victim. Thus, her brain birthed 'Iona'—a persona that her subconscious deems safer, or perhaps one that holds no memory of that pain."

"But she asked us to call her 'Iona,' Doc. That name is completely foreign to us," Fiki interjected, his voice trembling with anxiety.

The doctor nodded understandingly. "That is called Confabulation. The patient feels absolutely certain about an identity or memories that don't actually exist in her life history. For Miss Stella, this 'Iona' figure is a safe hiding place. She feels more comfortable being a gentle 'Iona' than returning to being 'Stella,' who might be carrying emotional burdens we aren't aware of."

"Then, what should we do?" Buana asked frantically. He was heartbroken and helpless hearing about his beloved daughter's condition.

"My advice is to just go with the flow for now. Don't force her to remember or deny her new identity. If we pressure her too hard to be Stella, her nerves could become stressed and trigger deeper trauma. Let her live as 'Iona' for a while, until her brain is ready to reconstruct her true self."

Fiki fell silent, staring at his sister's bedroom door with a hollow gaze. "So, I have to let my sister be a stranger in her own home?"

"For the sake of her recovery, yes. Think of it as a transition phase," the doctor concluded. Buana struggled to hold back his tears, unable to even ask further. "It's best to just follow her lead. As much as possible, grant whatever this 'Iona' persona wants."

They both nodded—Fiki with a grim expression, and Buana with tears already wetting his face.

"That is all I can analyze for now."

"Thank you, Doctor. Let me escort you to settle the payment," Fiki said as the two men departed. This left Buana alone in his grief, staring at Iona’s closed door.

A psychiatrist had also just examined Iona's condition and mental state. Little did they know that Iona's soul, having transmigrated into Stella's body, would be interpreted in such medical terms. While it was lucky for Iona that she could adapt easily for the time being, it was Stella's family and those around her who had to adapt to her 'special' condition.

"Father?" Buana was startled to see Iona emerging from her room, wearing another red gown. "Father, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, my darling!" Buana said quickly, wiping his tears. "Why is my Little Princess out of her room? Is there anything my Little Princess needs?"

Iona gave a small smile. "Iona was just wondering why my closet only has red clothes... Iona—"

"Iona wants new clothes? You want to buy clothes in different colors?" Her father nodded happily. This was perhaps Iona's first 'request.' He had to grant it. "Let's go! Daddy will buy you everything you want!"

Iona stared out the window of her Bentley Mulsanne. She watched the city, dampened by last night’s rain. Dew clung to the small trees. The atmosphere reminded her of a certain mischievous figure in a post-rain setting like this, years ago.

Joe had been creeping up behind Iona as she sat in the park, writing something. Playfully, Joe shook the small tree, causing all the dew to fall and soak Iona.

"Joe!" Iona screamed instinctively. After all, who else would prank her? Iona stood up in frustration, looking for her best friend. She then threw a pen cap at Joe's head as he stood behind the tree. It was childish, indeed, as they were only in the 9th grade at the time.

Joe just stuck his tongue out. Iona let out a rough sigh and sat back down on the park bench. "Who told you to prank me with those fake lizards yesterday?" Joe said in his defense.

Remembering Joe's expression back then made her anger soften slightly. "Besides, why are you scared of an animal as cute as a lizard?"

"Ugh! Cute where? You're way cuter."

Iona’s eyes widened, and she swatted Joe's shoulder. "No, I’m not!"

"You really are, though." Iona couldn't hold back a smile. Her cheeks suddenly turned a bright apple-red. "Why are your cheeks red?" Joe asked, teasing her on purpose.

"UGH, YOU ANNOYING BEST FRIEND!"

"Best friend? Who said we're just friends?"

Iona’s eyes glared even more. "Then what?!"

Joe laughed heartily. "I'll tell you tomorrow! We're not old enough yet," Joe said mysteriously as he walked backward, moving away from Iona. "I'm going home! Bye, Apple-Cheeks!"

"YOU LIZARD-PHOBE!"

"Iona, darling? We've arrived!" Buana waved his hand repeatedly in front of Iona's face as she snapped out of her daydream. So startled was she that she stepped out of the car on her own before a 'Mas Bro' could open the door for her.

"Where are we going, Dad?"

"You said you wanted to go clothes shopping, didn't you?"

The Bentley Mulsanne pulled away as Iona was greeted by the sight of a famous ten-story boutique building. Only the bourgeois could afford to shop here. Even Iona herself had only been there a few times because of the sheer cost and quality of the materials.

"Thank you so much, Dad!" Iona exclaimed, unintentionally hugging Buana tightly. It broke the older man's heart even further, remembering that in the past, Stella would never have hugged him for any reason.

"Oh, by the way, Dad. Are you going to call me 'Iona' too?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Whatever my daughter wants."

Iona was so touched by Buana's words. He was so different from her own father, who was a workaholic and rarely spoke to her. It was as if God had answered her prayer for a father figure in her life, while Buana also gained a daughter who truly cherished him.

Source: Gemini

Iona was deeply moved by Buana’s words. He was a far cry from her biological father, a workaholic who rarely spoke to her. It felt as if God had answered her prayers for a real father figure, while Buana, in turn, gained a daughter who truly cherished him.

"Come on, let’s start our shopping spree!" Buana chirped, ushering her toward the exclusive building. As the glass doors slid open automatically, they were greeted by the refreshing scent of lavender.

What a cozy place! Iona thought happily.

"Welcome! How may I help you, Mr. Buana?" greeted someone who looked impeccably neat and expensive. She didn't look like a typical clerk or shopkeeper; it seemed they were being welcomed by the boutique's owner herself. Iona glanced over and froze in shock.

"Manda?!" Iona whispered, the name nearly escaping her lips loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I’m sorry, Miss, did you say something?" Manda asked politely.

Iona quickly shook her head. "Uhm… it’s nothing."

Suddenly, a phone rang. It was Buana’s, and he was instantly swept up in his work. "Ehm, one moment, my darling Iona! Daddy has to take this call. If you need anything, just ask the Mas Bro, okay?" It seemed to be an urgent matter; he even assigned one of the Mas Bros to accompany her shopping, as his full focus was now on whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Iona?" Manda was clearly startled to hear that name mentioned after five long years. Iona, noticing Manda’s strange reaction, watched the girl closely, waiting to see how she would respond. "Ah, it must be my imagination," Manda hissed under her breath before returning to her professional smile.

"What kind of style are you looking for, Miss? Perhaps I can guide you."

Iona continued to study Manda intensely, waiting for any other question that might point toward 'Iona' or anything suspicious. But Manda asked nothing more, leaving Iona with an awkward smile.

"Could I see the collection of feminine short dresses in solid colors?"

Manda nodded. "Right this way, Miss. We have various models. Sleeveless, off-the-shoulder..." Iona didn't hear a single word Manda said. She was too busy observing how Manda had grown even more beautiful and charming. Noticing that Manda’s figure was slightly fuller now, Iona couldn’t help but wonder.

Could she already have a child with Joe? Iona thought sadly. It was a worst-case scenario she might have to face sooner or later.

"So, which model would you prefer, Miss?"

Iona shook her head. "I'll take one of every style in size M. Any color except red, please. Thank you." Iona closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push away the painful thoughts that threatened to make her cry. She stepped away quickly, not wanting to hear Manda’s reaction to her request. She distracted herself by heading toward the shoe section.

"Excuse me!" Iona called out to someone sitting near the cashier. The person hurried over, almost at a run.

"Yes, Miss, how can I help you?"

Once again, Iona’s eyes widened in disbelief. She covered her mouth dramatically. "Vana?!" she blurted out. This time, it was clear and loud. The girl looked confused but nodded.

"Yes, Miss... that is my name. How can I help you?"

Iona stared at the person in front of her—Vana, her best friend from middle school and high school. Iona was speechless, shocked by how much Vana had changed. Ignoring her current surroundings—even the two family bodyguards known as the Mas Bros—Iona pulled Vana into a fitting room and threw her arms around her in a desperate hug.

"Vana... I know you’re confused, but—"

"Iona?!"

Iona’s sentence cut short. she began to pull away from the hug because Vana had just called her name—earnestly—addressing her as Iona, not as Stella.

Source: Gemini

Iona was stunned as she saw Vana’s eyes bulge. Vana pointed in disbelief at the mirror behind them. She was staring at the beautiful apparition of Iona’s spirit standing right there, even though the physical body she had been hugging was Stella’s. The mirror reflected Iona’s features so clearly that Vana, caught in a whirlwind of confusion, rubbed her eyes over and over again.

Iona stood frozen, not knowing what to do. She had no idea that others could see her true form through a reflection. It could be a blessing—a sign of hope—or it could be the beginning of an endless nightmare.

BiYA Chapter V

This work is the intellectual property of Alinea Aneyla. Please do not copy, distribute, or republish without written permission from the author.