CHAPTER LXXIII
As soon as I reached home, I didn't even glance back at Flash properly. I just muttered under my breath, "I'm going to my room to rest. Please don't disturb me." I paused for a moment before adding, "And yeah… if possible, ask Chiko to cook something. I'm not in the mood to do anything today."
Flash, who had been lounging on the couch with a magazine in hand, looked up and asked casually, "What happened? Did you see that girl again?"
His voice wasn't mocking—it was careful, almost understanding—but it still hit a nerve. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"No… not her," I said softly, avoiding his gaze as I began climbing the stairs to my room. "Mom called."
At that, Flash lowered the magazine completely. His posture straightened, and the teasing tone in his voice disappeared.
"So… they want you to go back?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more grounded.
I stopped for a second on the stairs, fingers clenching the railing. "No," I replied, looking down. "They're coming here."
There was a pause. A stillness in the room, almost as if the air itself had shifted. Flash didn't say anything immediately. I turned slightly, catching the way his expression had changed—his usually bright eyes now dulled, beaks pressed into a flat line.
"They're coming here?" he repeated slowly, almost like he was trying to process it all at once.
I nodded. "Next week. And they're planning to stay for the wedding arrangements," I said bitterly, not hiding the exhaustion in my voice.
Flash's shoulders slumped just a little. His eyes dropped to the floor before lifting back to meet mine. "Well… that's good, right?" he said, forcing a weak smile. "I mean, you're always complaining how lonely you are here. At least now the house won't feel so empty."
I didn't respond to that. I couldn't. Because what he said wasn't wrong… but it wasn't right either.
I gave him a soft, tired "hmm" and continued walking up to my room.
But inside me, there was no calm. Only a rising storm I couldn't name.
Because while everyone else was making decisions about my future, my heart still lingered somewhere else—in a fleeting encounter, with a girl I barely knew…
A girl who had already vanished once.
And now, I was expected to pretend like she never existed.
At night, I found myself returning to that very pond—the place where I had first seen her. The moonlight draped the water in a gentle shimmer, and everything around me was hushed, as if nature itself was holding its breath. That memory… the way her lips moved when she spoke, the quiet tremble in her voice, the softness that came with her presence—none of it had left me. I still felt it lingering on my skin like a whisper.
It wasn't just attraction. No, not in the way people often confuse desire with longing. I've seen beauty before—many girls with similar curves, similar grace—but none of them had ever made my heartbeat go still like this. None of them had that pull.
There was something in her—something I couldn't name, something raw, broken, and yet inexplicably magnetic.
As I stood by the pond, lost in the ache of her memory, my eyes caught movement near the breeze that played across the surface. And there she was. Again.
She was watching me.
She hadn't vanished like the dream I thought she might have been. She was real, standing there beneath the moonlight like a secret waiting to be touched.
This time, I wasn't going to lose her.
Without wasting another breath, I turned and rushed home, grabbed my bike keys, and rode back with the wind screaming in my ears and my heart louder still. I didn't even have to search—she was exactly where I'd seen her. As if fate had frozen her just for me.
I pulled up, got off the bike, and took off my helmet, leaving it on the seat. My hands were trembling, my throat dry, but I forced myself to walk toward her. This wasn't a moment I could run from.
I stopped a few feet away and spoke softly, "Excuse me… what's your name?" My voice was careful, gentle. "Look, I know you might be wondering why I keep showing up like this, why I'm… following you. But it's not like that." I took a small step closer. "I just… I need to know if you're okay. Please. Just talk to me. If something's wrong… tell me."
She turned her gaze toward me then, and I swear… her eyes held the stars. In the dark night, they shimmered like constellations trapped in an ocean—deep, dark, vast. I could've drowned in them willingly.
And then… her expression broke. Her lips quivered. And suddenly, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed herself into me like she had nowhere else to go.
And in that moment, it didn't feel like I was comforting a stranger.
It felt like I had just found the one person my soul had been reaching out for in silence all this time.
Her body trembled against mine, fragile and warm. I gently placed my hand on her back, holding her with a careful intimacy, not wanting to shatter whatever sacred moment this was becoming. My heartbeat slowed, matching hers, as if we were made of the same rhythm.
I whispered into the air between us, "What happened? Will you tell me?"
And honestly… a part of me was already scared of her answer,
but the bigger part just wanted to stay like that—holding her, keeping her safe,
as if this single embrace could undo every storm she'd ever faced.
She gently pulled away from me, her arms loosening around my waist as if suddenly realizing the closeness we shared. A flicker of guilt crossed her face as she stepped back and whispered, "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have hugged you like that. I was just… overwhelmed. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
I looked at her—really looked. Her eyes still shimmered with tears, and her cheeks were flushed, either from crying or from embarrassment. Maybe both.
I shook my head softly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "No… it didn't bother me. Not at all."
She blinked, slightly caught off guard. "So… you liked it?" she asked, her voice cautious, almost trembling.
I paused, taken aback by the innocence in her question. I felt my heart skip a beat—not because of the question itself, but because of the way she asked it, like she had no idea how precious her presence was.
I stammered slightly, trying to rephrase. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… you can talk to me. You don't have to go through this alone."
She nodded slowly, then turned her face away from me and quietly began to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her voice was softer now, more fragile than before. "My father… he was very sick. In his last days, he borrowed some money from the man I was supposed to marry—" her voice caught in her throat, "—and then… he died without paying it back."
I listened silently, my chest tightening with every word she said.
"That man," she continued, "he said he'd forget the debt if I agreed to marry him. I didn't want to. I begged him… but he wouldn't stop. When I refused, he threatened to ruin me. And I—I didn't know what else to do. I thought if I ended my life, I'd finally be free."
I felt my stomach twist as she looked up at me, her eyes glassy and distant.
"But… then you saved me."
The weight of those words crushed me. I stepped closer, instinctively reaching out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "You don't owe that man anything," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "He can't force you to marry him. You have a right to live your life, your way."
She gave a broken, almost bitter laugh. "That's easy for you to say. But I have no home anymore. No family. No one to stand up for me. That man is powerful, and I'm… no one. So yes, maybe I will have to marry him. Maybe that's just what life has written for me. And I've stopped fighting it now."
Her words were like daggers—sharp, final, full of hopeless surrender. But as I looked at her, I knew I couldn't walk away. I couldn't let her drown in that kind of despair.
I stepped closer again, not touching her this time, just standing there—so close she could feel the warmth of me. My voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and sincere. "You're not alone. Not anymore."
She turned to look at me, startled. Her eyes searched mine, looking for doubt, for pity, for a lie. But I held her gaze, steady and full of something deeper than either of us could name.
"I don't care who you were supposed to marry," I said, "or what your past looks like. All I care about… is who you are now. And right now, you're someone I don't want to lose."
Her breath caught. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—but couldn't.
I reached up slowly, cupping her face with both hands, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath trembling.
And then… I kissed her.
Soft. Gentle. Like a question.
Her lips were warm, hesitant at first… but then she leaned in just a little more, answering without words. For a fleeting moment, it felt like time had stopped. Like the universe had folded in on itself just to make space for this one fragile, perfect connection between two broken souls.
But just as quickly as it began, she pulled back.
Her eyes didn't meet mine.
She took a step away… then another.
Without a word—without a glance—Lylah turned and walked into the night, her figure slowly swallowed by the darkness.
And I just stood there.
Still tasting the goodbye she never said.
To be continue....