I donโt have much to say this time, so I just want to apologize once again for the long delay in releasing this chapter. That said, I put a bit more effort into it to make sure itโs grammatically correct. However, if there are still any mistakes, please forgive me โ English isnโt my first language.
In addition, this is not the final chapter. The story will continue for two more chapters before I finally conclude it.
All characters are 18 or older. Please do not proceed if you are under 18.
WARNINGS: age difference, non-con, kidnapping, horror, mental breakdown, murder, forced pregnancy
You wait, and wait, until the red phone finally rings โ exactly at four oโclock.
โYou guessed it~โ His voice is unmistakable.
โWhy didnโt you call me the day before yesterday? That was the plan.โ You sound genuinely worried, imagining something bad might have happened.
โHmm?โ He seems not to understand what you mean โ or heโs pretending not to. โI thought you didnโt want to talk to me after you hung up on me in our last conversation.โ Although his tone remains languid, thereโs a subtle edge of disdain in his words.
You freeze as it hits you โ he did it on purpose. All your worry, deliberately caused in a petty, childish attempt to punish you for something that wasnโt even intentional. But he made it personal.
Itโs childish. Mean. Cruel.
It isnโt fair. Indignation rises so fast it pushes out any trace of surprise.
โI canโt believe you left me worried out of spite!โ you burst out, furious enough to want to strangle him through the phone. โI nearly dehydrated from crying so much!โ
โEehh, you cried for me? How cute,โ he says cheerfully, as if it were a compliment. โThat even makes me feel a little bad now~โ From his tone, he doesnโt.
โNever do that again, understood!?โ you keep shouting, unloading all the frustration accumulated over the past days into his ears.
By now your voice could probably be heard from the other side of the door, but it doesnโt matter.
โHey, no need to shout,โ Floyd retorts, as if your outburst is merely an annoyance.
โFor a moment I thoughtโฆ I thoughtโฆโ Your voice breaks before you can finish. Tears spring into your eyes unwantedly, and it takes all your effort not to start sobbing. โI thought I hadnโt done enough to help youโฆโ
Silence. Brief, but dense.
โDonโt cry again,โ Floyd says quietly, the edge in his voice softening as he realizes how defeated you sound. โSorry, I promise I wonโt do that kind of thing anymore.โ Now he sounds genuinely remorseful.
Floyd didnโt think his life mattered so much to you.
โGood. A promise is a debt,โ you snort, doing your best to make your tone sound more authoritative and less tearful.
โBut Iโm surprised.โ Floyd suddenly changes the subject. โDidnโt you tell me a bunch of things about the future changing? How exactly are you still talking to me?โ
โNow comes the complicated part.โ You wipe the remainder of the tears from your eyes with the palm of your hand. โI found out something terrible yesterdayโฆโ
You pull the chair back and sit at the desk, as if you need support for the next words.
โYouโre going to die, again.โ
โHow?โ Floyd asks seriously, but not surprised.
โA gas leak that leads to an explosion.โ Your thumb instinctively goes to your mouth, biting the tip in nervousness. โYou die burned, Floyd.โ
โNo way.โ He sounds unconvinced, like something like that just couldnโt happen. โMy parents have always been meticulous about the houseโs safety.โ
โMaybe, butโฆ somehow something goes wrong. I researched as much as I could and found the day of the accident, but not the hour.โ You swallow hard. โItโs in five weeks, on Friday.โ
โHey, hey. You think this is some kind of divine conspiracy?โ
โI donโt know, but Iโm starting to get a little scared.โ
You bite your lower lip, insecure and afraid.
โItโs as if something wants you dead.โ
You knew you could get more information from a certain person.
After ending the call, you send a message to Ace asking him to meet you at the cafรฉ within an hour.
He arrives on time. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoes when he sits down in front of you. Your eyes barely meet before you start firing questions about Floydโs death.
"Playing Criminal Case now?" Ace teases, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
"Just curiousโฆ I want to know how the incident happened," you reply, shrugging and trying to sound indifferent.
"Wellโฆ all I can say is that I almost turned into barbecue too." He laughs through his nose, the joke laced with bitterness.
"You too?" Your eyes widen.
"I was there, just minutes before the explosion." He waves his hand dismissively.
"We were playing video games, completely oblivious to anything."
"God, Aceโฆ" you murmur, imagining how traumatic that must have been.
"Itโs in the past." The smile returns, but it doesnโt reach his eyes.
"But why was he the only one at home?"
"If I remember correctly, his parents were taking care of some business, and his brotherโฆ I think he went to the botanical garden." Ace grows thoughtful, until something seems to cross his mind.
"Oh, right. He used to go out every Friday and stay away for hours."
"Every Fridayโฆ" you repeat, an absurd theory starting to form in your mind, though you decide to keep it to yourself for now.
"And do you know what time it happened?"
"Hard to forgetโฆ it was around two in the afternoon."
"All right, youโve helped me enough already," you thank him with a smile.
"So, is the investigation over?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, curious. "Why did you want to know so much about his death?"
"Mom and Dad never told me anything important about the houseโฆ I just wanted to understand the story better."
"Yeah, but how did you know his name?"
"Because I found a photo in the attic," you answer with a raised brow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. After all, Ace saw the photo.
"A photo in the attic?" Ace frowns, disbelief evident on his face. "I thought the fire destroyed almost everything."
"Donโt you remember?" You try to keep your voice neutral, less anxious.
"Nothingโฆ" you cut him off before he can press further. You force a smile and change the subject.
"Letโs drop it. How about we watch a movie?"
Ace studies you for a moment longer, as if trying to read what youโre hiding, then gives a half-smile.
"Sure. Our time together is always so short, I wish I could stay with you all the time."
"Me too," you say, intertwining your fingers with his and looking at him with the purest, most innocent affection.
The silence that follows is sweet only on the surface. Inside, your heart beats with a weight you canโt ignore. You take a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into deep waters, and the words slip out before you can hold them back:
"Ace, when are you going to divorce Elisa?"
His smile freezes for a moment โ almost imperceptibly โ but you notice. His gaze drifts away from your hand clasped in his, and the playful expression vanishes completely.
"Divorce?" he repeats, as if the word itself were too strange to exist in that moment. "Didnโt I already tell you these things take time?"
"Yes, you said the papers would be ready within a month, I remember that." You swallow hard.
"But did you at least tell her about us?" Your voice cracks, and you regret the question the instant it leaves your lips.
The prolonged silence makes your stomach twist. Finally, Ace lets out a humorless laugh.
"Funny how you think like that. What, are we supposed to announce our relationship to the world as if itโs nothing? Youโre twenty, Iโm thirty-five. Iโm almost old enough to be your father. What do you think he would say? Do you really think your family would approve of this relationship?"
Your heart tightens. You admit you hadnโt really thought about how your family would react. Still, thatโs not enough of an excuse to chase away the doubt thatโs begun to eat at you.
"I just want to be sure Iโm not temporary."
"Temporary?" Ace seems surprised by the word, almost offended. "If that were the case, do you think Iโd be here, answering all your strange questions and risking my image and stability?"
He lifts his eyes to you, his gaze sharp. "If it were just for fun, it wouldโve ended long ago."
You feel your face grow hot, a mix of shame and anger.
"Then why does it feel like youโre avoiding my question?" You clench your fists.
"Iโm not avoiding anything! Youโre the one making a big deal out of nothing."
"But youโ!" It takes every ounce of restraint not to lose your patience and shout inside the cafรฉ, drawing unwanted attention.
Maybe it would be wiser to leave this kind of discussion for another time.
"Iโm sorry. I just felt insecure for a moment."
"Seriously, whatโs with you?" Ace sighs in exasperation. "Youโre overthinking again."
He leans in to seal your lips with a quick kiss, putting an end to the argument.
Still, itโs not enough to silence the question that keeps echoing in your mind:
After getting home from watching the movie with Ace, you head straight to your room and lock the door.
Your hands, quick and anxious, open the first drawer of the desk. There it is โ the Leech family photo, the one you found in the attic days ago. Your fingers touch the slightly rigid surface of the photographic paper, and it feels strangely warm โ which shouldnโt be normal. You hold it by the corners and turn it over.
Thereโs a small smudge of soot on the lower edge of the image. Strange. It had never been there before. You scrape your nail over it, trying to remove it, but the gesture proves useless when you realize the stain is spreading, expanding until it covers the whole photo โ where the image of a happy family should be.
You exclaim, feeling a sharp sting of pain as the paperโs temperature becomes too hot to hold โ as if you had touched a real flame. Instinctively, you let it go.
The photo falls to the floor and, before your frightened eyes, it begins to burn on its own. The edges curl, the paper twists, and a reddish flame consumes it entirely.
In less than five seconds, the photo turns into a small pile of ashes.
You swallow hard, still a little surprised by what just happened, but not exactly scared. A photo catching fire on its own wasnโt that strange compared to all the other bizarre things that had happened to you in the past few weeks.
Thatโs why Ace didnโt know about the photo.
The thought comes almost like a whisper. The house had caught fire, and as a result, the photograph was burned and never existed โ which would explain why it burned up on its own. Therefore, you never showed the photo to him, even though you remembered it.
โBut why do I still remember it?โ
You murmur to yourself, pacing back and forth, lost in thoughts about how the present seems to have changed after the explosion โ affecting everyone elseโs memories, but not yours.
โCould it be that the red phone somehow keeps my memories?โ
You keep rambling to yourself as your hurried footsteps echo across the wooden floor.
โWhatโs that smell of smoke!?โ
Like a snap, your motherโs voice interrupts your thoughts as she shouts from downstairs. You flinch and immediately unlock the door, opening it just enough to stick your head out and shout back:
โNothing, Mom! Just burning some old papers!โ
You close the door again and lock it, leaning your back against it. Your eyes return to the small pile of ashes still lying in the middle of the room, and you sigh, annoyed that youโll now have to clean up the mess.
The next day, you wait for Floyd to call you at the usual time and tell him the information you managed to get from Ace.
โOn the day of the explosion, he was at your house, but he got lucky and left just a few minutes before it happened. Your parents werenโt there, and your brother had gone to the botanical garden,โ you explain cautiously. โThe main sign of a gas leak is always the smell, so itโd be good for you to stay alert for that.โ
โSo thatโs it? I just have to check if thereโs a leak around the house?โ
โSorry I couldnโt help more. I couldnโt find anything beyond that,โ you answer, a little downcast for not being more useful.
โNo, youโre giving me all the information I need. The date and the place are what matter most in the end.โ
โYes, please take care of yourself,โ you say sincerely, your hand clenched over the fabric of your sweater right where your heart is. โSo... do you want to talk about something else? You know, just to take your mind off all this.โ
โI want to talk about you.โ
Heโs direct โ no hesitation โ and you feel warmth rising to your cheeks.
โWhy donโt you tell me what you look like?โ
โI donโt know how to do that.โ You laugh shyly, biting your lower lip. โI donโt want you to get a distorted image of me.โ
โBut thatโs not fair!โ He whines like a spoiled child, and you swear Floyd must be pouting on the other end of the line. โHow am I supposed to give you a nickname if I donโt know what you look like? Besides, itโs boring to keep calling you โyouโ all the time.โ
โHmm, a nickname? Is that why you call Ace a crab?โ
โHehehe, exactly. He looks just like one with that hair.โ
You laugh. โWell, thatโs one more reason not to describe myself. I donโt even want to know what kind of nickname youโd give me.โ
โThat hurts, you know? I wouldnโt be that mean.โ Even though he says it in a whining tone, you doubt heโs truly offended.
โMaybe not. But, in the endโฆโ You let out a deep sigh. โEven if I told you what I look like, when all this is over, I donโt know if youโd still remember me.โ
โHey, thatโs impossible. Youโre way too fun to forget.โ
You laugh, genuinely touched by Floydโs sincerity.
โWould you come looking for me? Iโd like to see you one day, when all this is over.โ
โWould you like that?โ His tone sounds bright, genuinely intrigued by the idea.
โYes, absolutely!โ You feel a slight tingling of excitement.
โThen itโs a promise. When all this is over, Iโll look for you โ a few years from now.โ
โOf course.โ You smile, your heart swelling with joy at the possibility of meeting him in person one day. โI canโt wait.โ
An awkward silence follows for a few seconds.
โSo, hmmโฆโ You try to think of something to break the ice. โAnything else you want to ask?โ
โHmmm.โ He sounds thoughtful on the other end before asking bluntly, โDo you have a boyfriend?โ
โBoyfriend!?โ You exclaim, a bit startled by the question. Your thoughts instantly drift to Ace and all those secret meetings you had with him. It wasnโt exactly a relationship, butโฆ something like it. โNot exactly. Iโm kind of involved with someone, but sometimes I think it wonโt go anywhere.โ
โWho is it?โ Floydโs voice turns serious โ darker for a moment โ and you almost feel his breath on your neck.
You tell yourself itโs just interference on the line.
โEven if I told you, you wouldnโt know who it is.โ You laugh awkwardly. Revealing your involvement with Ace would sound strange โ maybe even inappropriate โ given the age difference. It could even ruin their friendship, and you didnโt want that guilt. โHeโs just someone from my university, thatโs all.โ
You hope Floyd buys the lie.
โYouโre in university?โ He changes the subject, and you feel a wave of relief hearing his tone return to normal. โSo diligent โ but thatโs not surprising.โ
โYou sound like someone responsible and careful. Those are rare qualities nowadays, you know? Even if Iโve never seen you in person, itโs not hard to tell.โ
โWow, youโre going to make me blush.โ You feel your cheeks warm as a small laugh escapes you. โSpeaking of which, I think itโs my turn to ask if you have a girlfriend.โ
โEeeehh, why? Interested?โ
โIdiot! Of course not.โ You stick your tongue out โ even though he canโt see you. โIโm just throwing your question back at you. Itโs only fair.โ
โAh, I dated once just to see what it was like, you know? But it was kind of boring. So Iโm available โ in case youโre interested.โ
โToo bad I canโt flick your forehead right now.โ You canโt help but smile.
โAaww, donโt be mean. Iโm just kidding, just kidding.โ
โAlright, alright.โ You sigh, letting it out heavier than you expected.
โTired of me?โ he asks, sounding theatrically offended.
โNo, of course not.โ You laugh. โJust tired from the day. I havenโt been sleeping well lately.โ
โInsomnia?โ he asks curiously. โOr nightmares?โ
โA bit of both,โ you admit. โEver since I started looking into all this, itโs been hard to relax. Feels like somethingโs always wrong, you know?โ
โHmmmโฆโ He hums, thoughtful. โYou think too much. I bet youโre the type who rolls in bed replaying every conversation, every detail, until your brain fries.โ
You laugh, surprised by how accurate that is. โHow do you know that?โ
โIntuition,โ he answers casually. โBesides, you sound like someone who weighs every word before saying it.โ
โIs that a compliment?โ
โMaybe.โ You can almost picture him smiling on the other side of the line.
โI donโt do that when it comes to you,โ you say softly, sincerely. โI donโt have to think or pretend. Itโs nice to just relax a bit, even with everything going on.โ
โEeeh, I feel the same. Talking to you has become my favorite part of the day~โ
Your heart skips with joy, and a warm, genuine smile spreads across your face. โThen weโre even.โ
Silence. Just the sound of both your breaths, mixed with the faint static on the line. Itโs a comfortable silence โ the kind that doesnโt need to be filled.
But, as Floyd said, you think too much. And your mind feels like a pressure cooker, whistling with thoughts, theories, and questions that wonโt stop until you find at least a few answers.
You shift a little, hesitant. โFloyd?โ
โIโve been thinking about this phone weโre talking through. The other day, I took the battery out, and it still worked just fine โ like it was possessed.โ
โEeeeh, thatโs scary!โ
His mock horror is obvious, and all you can do is laugh at his terrible impression of a horror movie damsel.
Floyd, without a doubt, wasnโt the type to get scared easily โ something you found both admirable and a little dangerous. Fear kept people cautious, and caution didnโt seem to be one of his strong points, at least from what youโd gathered, even from the other end of the line.
โAnyway, I just wanted to ask where you got it โ or if someone gave it to you.โ
โWait, found it?โ You ask, surprised. โWhere?โ
โIn the same place you did โ in the attic, wrapped in a piece of cloth.โ
โThatโs so creepy!โ you comment, though by now almost nothing could truly surprise you anymore. โAnd here I was, thinking I could still find some clues...โ You sigh, frustrated.
โSee? Thatโs what I mean โ you think too much.โ
โI know, but I just wish I could help more.โ You press your lips together, frustrated at never reaching a real solution. โYouโve become someone important to me, Floyd.โ
โHow sweet~โ he sings. โThat almost sounds like a confession.โ
โIdiot,โ you curse softly, but a smile still tugs at your lips.
โHey, donโt push your luck,โ his playful tone fades completely as he warns โ though youโre not bothered, already knowing thatโs just his way. โYouโre the only one who can insult me and still keep your tongue.โ
โOooh, scary.โ You tease, then quickly change the subject to avoid more flirting. โDo you mind if I ask one more question? I donโt want to annoy you with too many.โ
โItโs fine.โ He goes back to his lazy tone. โI already told you โ if itโs you, Iโll give in.โ
You chuckle, embarrassed.
โItโs about your brother. Do you two get along?โ You bite your lip, anticipating his answer. โI mean, I found this phrase carved on the wood in the attic โ โJade is a stupid bitchโ. It freaked me out so much, I saw it forming right in front of me.โ
โAahhh, that.โ Floyd sounds like heโs remembering something from years ago instead of just a few days. โHeโs a pain sometimes. But most of the time, we get along. No matter how much we fight, heโs still my brother, and I wouldnโt trade him for anything.โ
โOh, I see. That actually sounds sweet, coming from you.โ You admit, a little surprised and a little charmed by their relationship.
โSweet?โ He repeats, pretending to be offended. โHey, Iโm not sweet. Iโm dangerous.โ
You laugh, not believing him for a second.
โMust be nice having a twin brother.โ You muse aloud, wondering for a moment what itโd be like to have another version of yourself in the world.
โYou donโt have siblings?โ
โWhat are you doing!?โ
Your motherโs voice comes from downstairs, loud enough for even Floyd to hear. โCome here and help me!โ
โSorry, Floyd, thatโs my mom.โ You rub your forehead, exasperated. โI have to help out with some chores.โ
โAww, so youโre learning to be a homemaker now?โ He teases. โHow cute.โ
โI hate that kind of label!โ you retort, mock-offended, before a soft laugh escapes your lips. โBut seriously, Iโve gotta go. Call me tomorrow at the same time, okay?โ
โYou donโt even have to ask~โ
That night, you fall asleep with the sound of his laughter echoing in your head โ sweet, a song that refuses to end.
Even in the silence of your room, it feels as if that laughter seeps through the cracks of your mind, chiming somewhere between dream and memory.
When the red phone rings at midnight, the sharp sound jolts you awake, your heart pounding in sync with the insistent metallic chime.
Itโs not new to you anymore. Honestly, youโve gotten used to this kind of thing โ though you shouldnโt have.
You consider not answering that damn thing, maybe just letting it scream itself silent, but you know it wonโt stop. Youโve learned that over the past few nights, when the stranger on the other end didnโt rest until you picked up.
Without leaving the bed, you stretch your arm toward the desk, your fingers fumbling in the dark until they find the vibrant object that turned your last few weeks into a living hell โ or almost. Floyd had been the only good thing to come out of it.
You sigh and answer the phone, pressing it to your ear.
โDamn it, I want to sleep.โ Your voice comes out hoarse, irritated, but still drowsy. โWhat do you want?โ
โKoebi-chan, donโt forget what you promised.โ
You frown, still caught somewhere between sleepiness and annoyance.
โDidnโt you call me that the first time?โ The memory is vague, but youโre sure youโve heard that nickname before. โSounds Japanese. What does it mean?โ
โHehehe, it means youโre small like a shrimp.โ The reply comes with a drawn-out, syrupy laugh.
โBut youโve never seen meโฆโ
The stranger hangs up โ surprisingly quicker tonight than on other nights.
You sit there, frozen, the phone still pressed against your ear. Then, slowly, you lower it. Your eyes drift to the window, half afraid of what you might find there.
Relief comes as a short, almost trembling sigh.
You set the phone back in its place and curl up under the sheets again, trying to convince your body it can go back to sleep.
But outside, something moves.
Through the slats of the half-open blinds, a single golden eye watches you.
The days leading up to the week of the accident pass in a flash, while your relationship with Floyd slowly warms up โ you start seeing him as a reliable and fun person. You feel more and more drawn to that playful voice on the other end of the line, even though youโve only ever seen him through an old photograph. With every call, itโs as if the world becomes a little less gray. You feel lighter, even if only for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, your relationship with Ace has become almost the complete opposite. Sometimes heโs cold, distant; other times, heโs so warm that you feel like youโre burning alive when you share intimate moments. There never seems to be any middle ground when it comes to the redhead, who always seems to balance on a thin line between you and the life he leads.
Sometimes, you catch yourself staring at your phone, waiting for a message from him, even though you know heโll only call when he feels like it โ and almost always at the worst possible time. Still, there are moments when the sound of his voice alone is enough to make everything seem bearable again.
You believe in him โ or want to. Honestly, itโs hard to tell how far this relationship will go, or if there will ever be a destination for you two beyond this limbo.
In these last few days, youโve admitted to yourself that you love him, but love and uncertainty coexist painfully. One day, he might say those same words of affection, but when that moment comes โ will it be real?
You donโt feel capable of trusting him, and thatโs worse than any wound youโve ever had in your life, because this one hurts in your heart.
Corroded by doubt, five days before Floyd is freed from that curse of perpetual death, you decide to confront Ace once again about the divorce. You want a concrete answer โ not the half-truths he usually offers between laughter and teasing. Youโre determined to put an end to it before it somehow becomes a point of no return.
You grab your phone and type the message.
I miss you. Can we meet later?
Itโs still a bit early, but you know that Ace has the day off today and wonโt refuse to meet you at some cheap hotel for a quick hookup.
โHow did I lower myself this much?โ
You mutter, frustrated with yourself.
Ace: Sure. Same place as always?
Yes. In an hour, is that okay?
Deep down, part of you still wants to believe heโll say what youโve always wanted to hear. But another part โ the more lucid one โ already senses the end.
You get ready with a care that borders on cruelty. You choose the best outfit, the best makeup, the perfume heโs always complimented. Maybe because you want to impress him one last time. Or maybe because, deep down, you still hope heโll fall for you again. That is, if he ever truly did.
You look at the sky through your bedroom window before leaving, noticing dark clouds forming in the distance. It would be awful to get drenched by carelessness, so you take a small portable umbrella from one of your desk drawers and slip it into your bag.
You leave the house and walk to meet him, and minutes later, itโs exactly as you predicted โ the sky, once merely overcast, begins to close in as you move down the street. The first raindrops hit the asphalt with a soft sound before turning into a dense, cold curtain.
You stop for a moment under a store awning to take the umbrella from your bag and open it. People run for shelter, umbrellas bloom open, traffic slows, and the sound of rain dominates everything.
You keep walking, now protected from the rain, and each step echoes in the puddles. The city looks different under the storm. The lights reflect on the wet pavement โ distorted, blurred โ exactly like everything inside you.
You arrive before him at the hotel, and every minute of waiting feels like slow torture. The room lights are warm and yellowish, casting soft shadows over the neatly made sheets, while the ticking of the wall clock grows loud enough for you to start hating it.
Ace walks in without hurry, with that carefree air that always disarms you โ his coat hanging off one shoulder, that mischievous smile so much like a boyโs.
โWow,โ he comments, stunned as soon as he sees you standing in the center of the room, his eyes sweeping over your body from head to toe.
You let out an embarrassed little laugh, though a flash of happiness cuts through you for getting his attention โ even if that had been your intention from the start.
He approaches and presses a kiss to your lips. It disarms you completely for a few seconds, but then you regain your senses and step back.
โWhatโs wrong?โ he asks, noticing your hesitation.
You falter. For an instant, you think about backing down โ pretending that the message you sent earlier was true, that it was just longing and that you needed to see him. But the words have been trapped in your throat for too long, burning to get out.
โIโve been thinking about this for a while,โ your voice cracks for a second. โAbout Elisaโฆโ
Ace exhales heavily, as if he senses a storm even greater than the one outside. His gaze drifts to the window, where the streetlights blur through the rain.
โOhโฆ this again.โ He lets out a short, almost tired laugh. โWeโve already talked about this.โ
โNo, you always run away from the subject,โ you interrupt, your voice rising. โYou always change the topic, make jokes, kiss me, and think that fixes everything.โ
โI canโt tell Elisa about us,โ he shoots back, clearly irritated by the conversation.
โIโm not asking you to shout our relationship to the world!โ you yell, your anger finally breaking loose. โIโm talking about you not leaving her!โ
โThe divorce papers are being processed โ how many times do you want me to say that?โ he gestures, annoyed.
โIโm not talking about that stupid piece of paper!โ you stomp your foot hard. โThat first night together, you told me you didnโt love her anymore. If thatโs true, then why do you still live with her? You share the same bed, and she kisses you every morning!โ
You remember every time you saw Ace and Elisa together through your bedroom window. She would always walk him to the door affectionately, giving him a goodbye kiss before he left for work. Her gestures didnโt seem like those of someone whoโd stopped loving โ or someone about to divorce.
Ashamed by your own naivety, you shrink like a wounded animal, lowering your head and hiding your teary eyes.
โYou lied about everything, didnโt you?โ The words come out choked by the sob rising in your throat.
โI didnโt lie about everything.โ Ace raises his hands and takes a step forward, and you retreat again. โI mean it about the divorce, I justโฆโ He searches for the right words and looks down. โI havenโt had the chance to mention it to her yet.โ
Those words hit you like a blade. For a moment, everything around you seems to dissolve โ the sound of the rain, the clock, the air. Thereโs only the two of you, and the abyss that just opened beneath your feet.
It takes a few seconds to compose yourself from the blow, as if youโd just taken a bullet to the chest.
But as you absorb every little word and grasp what it truly means, rage and anguish spread through your body like a parasite โ devouring whatโs left of your trust, poisoning your veins with shame, and staining your heart with the most corrupt of feelings: the kind that grows from hatred born of love.
And that hatred comes from something that was once pure โ a feeling you nurtured with such care, now rotting before your eyes, turning into something repulsive. The memory of every time you believed his words stings like thorns under your skin. You feel dirty โ as if youโd been an accomplice to a crime you didnโt even understand until this moment.
โHow could you, Ace!โ you scream, forcing your vocal cords to their limit. โBetrayal is one of the worst things you can do to a person!โ
Thereโs something cruel in realizing that the pain doesnโt come only from the betrayal, but from what it takes with it โ your innocence. And then you understand that his true poison wasnโt in the lies, but in how he made you doubt your own perception โ making you believe that the problem was always you, that you were too impatient, too jealous.
You feel like laughing โ laughing at yourself for being so easily fooled.
โYou think itโs that simple?โ He runs a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. โThat I can just go home, look at her, and say โitโs overโ โ and thatโs it?โ
โYes!โ you answer without hesitation. โIt would be better than stabbing her in the back the way weโre doing!โ
And you feel horrible for saying that โ guilt crawling up your body like invisible ants.
โYou donโt understand what itโs like to have a daughter involved in this. I canโt just end it all and leave them helpless.โ
โI would never want you to do something that awful!โ you retort, incredulous that heโd even suggest such a thing.
Ace laughs โ but itโs a bitter, exhausted laugh.
โYou donโt understand. Elisaโฆ sheโs fragile. I donโt want to hurt her.โ
Hearing those words, you didnโt think it was possible to feel even more desolate โ but you do.
And it hurts โ burns in a way no visible wound ever could. Itโs as if something inside you breaks again, quietly.
And it destroys you in a cowardly way, because even knowing itโs wrong, even knowing youโre not blameless either, part of you still begs to be chosen.
โAnd what am I?โ you ask, a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes blur with tears, but you refuse to let a single one fall in front of that miserable man. โA toy?โ
โDonโt say that.โ He looks at you, his gaze heavy with something between melancholy and regret. โI justโฆ canโt see a way out that doesnโt hurt someone.โ
The silence that follows is heavy.
Unintentionally, he makes it clear that heโd rather use you than tell his wife the truth. You feel hurt that his preference is so obviously for Elisa โ and even more hurt by realizing that, deep down, he never truly considered choosing you.
โIโm nothing to you but fresh meat. An escape from your mediocre life.โ A sob finally escapes your lips when you can no longer keep the dam of tears intact โ drop after drop, as if each carried a piece of whatโs left of you. โIโve been too blind with love to see that what you feel for me will never be what I feel for you.โ
The redhead falls silent, his gaze faltering. Itโs clear he wants to argue, but he has nothing to say. He doesnโt even try to convince you otherwise โ to tell you youโre wrong. In the end, thatโs what hurts the most: knowing youโre right.
The rain grows heavier outside, as if the whole world wants to hide the sound of what just broke between you.
โIโm trying,โ he finally whispers. โReally. I justโฆ donโt know where to start.โ
A lump forms in your throat, and for the first time, you understand that love can also be a slow way to die.
โThereโs no starting point for something thatโs already over.โ
Those are your last words โ spoken slowly, heavy with resentment โ before you grab the strap of your bag from the bed and rush out of the room. Ace tries to stop you, holding your arm, but you pull away forcefully and open the door. You run down the hallway, hearing his shouts behind you โ asking you to stay, to talk calmly.
You donโt listen. Everything that ever came out of his mouth was always the cruelest of lies.
You arrive home completely soaked.
Although you had brought the compact umbrella, you forgot it at the motel entrance. At the moment you left, you were too shaken to even remember it โ you just ran outside, as if escaping that place meant escaping what had happened inside. You didnโt even notice it was still raining.
As you step into the living room, the wet sound of your shoes against the floor echoes through the space. Within seconds, a small trail of water forms behind you. Your mother, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hands, widens her eyes, startled to see you in that state.
โWhat happened to you?โ she asks, standing up quickly.
Lucky for you, the tears on your face could easily be mistaken for raindrops.
You just shake your head, unable to answer. Youโre too tired, too drained to pay attention to the tone of shock and irritation in her voice. When your mother starts complaining about the wet floor, youโre already hurrying up the stairs, leaving a trail of water behind.
The bedroom door slams shut behind you, muffling your motherโs voice from downstairs.
Without turning on the lights, you head to the bathroom. Every piece of clothing that falls to the floor seems to weigh a ton โ the cold, soaked fabric clinging to your skin. You twist the shower handle to the limit and step under the scorching water, desperate to chase away the cold coming from both outside and within.
But the hot water doesnโt bring comfort.
The tears keep falling, mixing with the steam that fogs up the mirror and the mist filling the room.
You press your hands against the cold wall and struggle to breathe. Every memory of what was said comes back in painful waves. It feels as if something inside you was torn out, leaving behind only the echo that lives within an empty shell.
Time passes without you noticing. The steady sound of water serves as a soundtrack to your silent crying. When you finally decide to turn off the shower, your skin is flushed red and your fingers are wrinkled.
You wrap yourself in a towel, still trembling, and return to the bedroom. Even though the window is closed, the cool afternoon air greets you like a slap. You walk to the bed and collapse onto the sheets, your body still damp, your hair soaking the pillow.
For a moment, you try to convince yourself you can sleep. Maybe sleep will take away the heaviness in your chest. But you canโt.
The crying starts soft, restrained โ then comes in sobs, completely disordered. Itโs a cry that seems to have no end, no comfort.
And in that exact moment, when you believe thereโs nothing left but the sound of your own breathing and the rain outside, it rings.
Exactly at four, as always.
The sound fills the dim room. Familiar, insistent, yet somehow comforting.
You slowly lift your face, eyes still teary. For the first time that night, something inside you doesnโt hurt. Because even without looking at the screen, you know whoโs on the other end of the line.
The one who, without realizing it, has been the only person capable of making you smile when the rest of the world seems to crumble. A thread of warmth amid collapse โ ironically coming through a cold object.
You sit up slowly and wipe your face with your hand, trying to dry the tears. Then, you reach out to grab the phone on the desk.
And when you finally answer, his voice is like a warm gust of air in the middle of a storm.
โSo, are you ready to show me that song?โ
โY-Yeah. Tell me which singer first.โ You cough, trying to hide the tremor in your voice, but it still sounds more nasal than youโd like.
โAre you crying?โ He notices. Of course, he notices.
Sometimes you think Floyd would make a damn good detective.
โNot hard to tell,โ he replies, calm and almost teasing. โYour voice sounds kinda shaky and hoarse.โ
โYeah, I am, but I donโt want you to worry about thaโโ
โHey, hey!โ he exclaims, clearly displeased that youโre trying to dodge the topic. โWhatโs going on?โ
โItโs just that Iโฆโ You try to think of something, but nothing that comes to mind feels like a good enough excuse. โShit, I canโt even come up with a lie.โ You laugh at your own misery โ a trembling, bitter laugh. But the endless cycle of tears begins again as sadness overcomes your pathetic sense of humor. A sob escapes hard. โItโs just that I was stupid to think heโd love meโฆ that heโd choose me.โ
โHe?โ Floydโs voice changes. Thereโs a dark, almost dangerous edge to the way he says the word.
โYeahโฆ Iโฆโ You hesitate, but itโs too late to take it back. โI had a bad fight with that guy I told you about a few days ago.โ You wipe your nose on your sweater sleeve โ to hell with manners. โI was too blinded by love to see that he was a fucking asshole.โ You say it with such anger that it could set the room on fire.
But the anger fades as quickly as it came. And whatโs left is only the purest, cruelest melancholy.
You cry again. As if all you can do is cry like a baby, unable to stop.
โI donโt like hearing you cry,โ he murmurs, his tone discontent, almost hurt.ย
โI knowโฆ Iโm sorry. I shouldnโt dump my frustrations on you. Your problems are way worse than mine.โ
โThatโs not what I mean.โ He cuts you off before you can start a self-sabotaging spiral. โThe truth is, youโre way too good for that bastard, whoever he is. He doesnโt deserve your tears.โ
โI donโt know if thatโs true.โ You sniffle, your voice faltering. โMaybe Iโm just as awful as he is.โ
โEeeh? Why would you say that?โ Floyd sounds puzzled.
โHeโฆโ You hesitate, both out of shame and fear that it might be a bad idea. The fear of losing his trust weighs heavy on your chest. But what does it matter now? Youโre already at rock bottom. โHeโs married, damn it!โ you finally confess, your voice breaking โ but it doesnโt make you feel any better. โI was his fucking mistress.โ
The kind of silence that makes your heart stop. โYouโre disappointed, right?โ you whisper, your throat tightening.
Your heart breaks again when you realize he probably hung up. Of course he would. Heโd told you himself how much he hated betrayal โ it made sense that now heโd find you despicable, untrustworthy. A whore.
The tears come back hard, and guilt mixes with the despair of losing two important people on the same day.
But you deserve it, right? How stuโ
His voice resurfaces โ calm, drawn out, but alive.
You feel sudden relief, exhaling in a trembling sigh. Quickly, you wipe your tears before they fall again, a small smile escaping without meaning to.
โIโm surprised, honestly. You seem so well-behaved.โ
โI know itโs not an excuse, butโฆ on our first night together, he told me heโd divorce her.โ You lower your head, shame burning your face. โAnd I believed him.โ
โHe lied to you. Used you.โ His tone is harsh, irritated โ but clearly not at you. โIโd never do that.โ
โYeah, youโre honest.โ You comment with a brief laugh. โSometimes too much, but I like that.โ
โGood.โ His voice softens. โItโs way better hearing you laugh than hearing you cry.โ
โThank you. Youโre a great friend.โ
โFriend?โ he repeats, and thereโs something new in his tone โ a mix of frustration and teasing. โIs that all I am to you?โ
โItโs justโฆโ You swallow hard, trying to choose your words carefully so you donโt put him in a bad mood. โItโs too soon to say anything. I donโt even know if weโll remember each other when all this is over. And thereโs still the chance that I wonโt even be here andโโ
โHey. Stop.โ He interrupts firmly. โYouโre overthinking again. Things will fall into place, I know they will.โ
โFloydโฆโ you murmur his name softly, touched by the unexpected gentleness in his voice.
โYou donโt have to give me an answer now.โ He sighs. โPatience isnโt exactly my strong suit, butโฆ for you, I can wait.โ
You smile. Itโs impossible not to. Floyd sounds exactly like the kind of prince charming youโve spent your whole life wishing for.
The tears had stopped long ago, and now all that remains is a warm feeling in your chest.
Thank you so much for reading up to this point! If you have anything youโd like to share about the fic, feel free to do so.