Stupid Cupid

20: The End and The Beginning

- Bright's POV -

It's been eighty-four years.

Just kidding. But for real, it's been an eternity—at least, that's what it feels like. As I walked past a house earlier, I caught a glimpse of an old movie playing on their television. Titanic. A classic. A relic from another time, much like the memories I hold so dearly.

I have no idea how long it's actually been since I last saw Win. Time in exile is an illusion—a cruel, stretching void where seconds bleed into days, days into years, and years into something unnameable. I was cast into Anyparthias, a vast wasteland of nothingness, a prison outside the reach of time itself. I couldn't count the days. I couldn't measure the loss.

But I felt it. Every single moment.

Because every human second spent away from Win felt like a lifetime.

Now, I stand at the exact spot where I last saw him, but the world has moved on without me. What was once a familiar playground—our playground—is gone. In its place stands a towering condominium, sleek and unfeeling, erasing the past with its steel and glass. Across the street, Win's favorite appliance store has vanished too, replaced by a cozy café where a group of young people now gather, their laughter spilling into the night.

It's been a while since I've heard laughter.

It's been even longer since I've heard his laughter.

How much time has passed?

Was Win alone all this time?

The thought twists something deep inside me. The selfish part of me wants to believe he waited, that he ached for me just as I ached for him. But I know better. Win was never one to be alone. He thrives in the presence of others, craves warmth like a moth to a flame.

And if someone else had been there to provide it in my absence?

I tell myself I should be relieved, but jealousy is a stubborn, ugly thing.

I exhale and walk toward the bus stop, sinking onto the cold bench. My gaze drifts upward, to the night sky stretching vast and endless above me. The stars are bright tonight, twinkling like scattered diamonds against the darkness. They remind me of his eyes—how they used to shine when he smiled, how they dimmed when he was lost in thought.

Oh, how I miss those eyes.

I glance down at my hand, at the single piece of red string tied around my finger- the one thing that remained unchanged all this time.

Win tied it there himself.

"This will always bind you to me, Bright. And I to you," he had said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. "No matter where you are, I'll find you."

I believed him. I still do.

But he never came.

Not because he didn't want to. Not because he forgot. Because even if he searched every inch of this world, he never would have found me. I wasn't here. I was nowhere.

And yet, I held onto that hope like a lifeline, gripping it tightly until the day I was finally set free.

Now, I don't know where to go. I don't know where he is.

So, I'll stay here. I'll wait.

Because if the magic in this string applies to us the way it does to humans—the way we hoped it would—he'll come.

"Win, I'm back. Come find me. Please... make your magic work."

I clasp my hands together, pressing the red string against my palm.