In The Shadows

35

CHAY

An enticing aroma filled the whole house, beckoning my senses. As I took a deep breath, the scent was both comforting and overwhelming. Glancing around, I noticed the kitchen cluttered with many suitcases, momentarily drawing my attention away from the intriguing smell. Memories clicked into place, suggesting Nova and Benz had returned home. But as the fragrance enveloped me once more, recognition dawned. There was indeed a unique touch in the air, a scent I could associate with only one person who had the knack to infuse my home with such a distinctive smell.

I turned to Kim, my eyes wide with hopeful expectation, my grin begging him to let me indulge. I could hardly stand still, my feet tapping with anticipation to savor the delicious dishes I could smell wafting from the kitchen. Kim let out a light laugh, and with a casual tilt of his head, he signaled toward the heart of those enticing aromas. Quickly, I set his bags onto the couch's soft cushions and hurried toward the culinary promises of the kitchen.

Sianna was sitting at the kitchen table on her phone, probably messaging Ohm. Sianna was seated at the table with her, and two of our closest friends, Nova and Benz, were already sitting. Both were keenly observing the impressive figure of a man standing before them, his muscles subtly outlined by the apron he wore with an air of casual authority. Meanwhile, ever attentive, Kim gently placed a hand on my back, nudging me slightly to go and greet the cherished cook and bodyguard who had just returned home. In the swirl of my eager anticipation to reunite with him, I narrowly noted that Kim had come along with me.

As I walked towards my little kitchen, a sense of relief washed over me, like a gentle wave retreating from the shore, leaving a slight heaviness lingering on my shoulders. It was only at that moment—catching sight of my friend's familiar figure—that I realized the tension I had been carrying.

He was supposed to have returned this morning as he had promised, but morning came and went without a trace of him. In an attempt to keep my spirits high, I embraced positivity, even though a nagging worry gnawed at the edges of my mind, suggesting that something terrible might have happened to him.

I reached for my phone numerous times and dialed his number, only to be greeted by the hollow void of unanswered calls. The silence of the ringtone echoed my fear, but I wasn't ready to entertain those dark thoughts. Instead, I chose a sort of self-deception, convincing myself that by not dwelling on his absence, I could somehow will his safe return. Like a lifeline, I clung to this thought, hoping to banish the negative tide of thoughts threatening to drown me.

Once we returned from the photo shoot, finding the house still empty of his presence set my nerves on edge, leading my concerns to deepen. I had a faint yet unwavering hope that he might appear, walking through the door at any moment. It occurred to me that he might have knowingly chosen not to join us, opting to turn away from our 'gang'— a decision I would regretfully understand, though it would leave a pang of sadness. His absence would weigh on me, but it wasn't my place to dictate his choices. Deep down, I recognized the selfishness in my previous request of him, or any of my friends for that matter.

Then there was that other, darker possibility that filled me with the greatest dread: the thought that perhaps he'd never made it because harm had befallen him at the hands of another. If such a fearsome thought turned out to be true, I resolved to scour the earth and find the one who would exact revenge for any harm inflicted on someone dear to me. Each of these scenarios waged a stubborn assault upon the fabric of my thoughts, leaving me in a tumult of worry and apprehension.

He's right here, standing in my kitchen, with a glow of health I don't remember him having before he departed. It's surprising to realize how much I've grown attached to him. Our stories are almost similar, though his life is more tattered. Where I had the support of my brother, his life was a solitary journey abandoned by his parents. A stable roof is what I had, whereas he claimed a different alleyway or similar patch of sidewalk each night as his makeshift bed.