Moonlit Hearts

Chapiter 27: The Last Stand

Wangji remained still, anchored to his bed by a weight he couldn't shake. He had attempted to rise, to break free from the lethargy that enveloped him, but something within him resisted. Two days earlier, yielding to Sizhui's relentless urging, he had tested the limits of Odin's curse. Every attempt to step beyond the threshold of his home had cruelly flung him back into the suffocating familiarity of his room. The walls had become his silent jailers, confining him to solitude while delegating mundane tasks to Sizhui and occasionally Jingyi.

They avoided mentioning Wei Ying—his sudden absence or the void he had left behind. Wangji had strained to locate him, but the once-familiar thread connecting them had unraveled into nothingness. Even Wei Ying's apartment had yielded no trace of his presence. Odin's magic had robbed Wangji of his strength, leaving him muted and trapped. Sizhui had steadfastly refused to leave his side initially, fearing Wangji might succumb to the ache that threatened to consume him. Yet Wangji surprised him, maintaining a facade of composure, at least in Sizhui's presence.

After a week, Wangji often sent Sizhui on errands and encouraged him to live his life outside the confines of the house. He could feel Sizhui's reluctance, but he managed to convince him. For Wangji, the days were monotonous, a blend of numb endurance and persistent heartache.

Each day felt like a battle against the growing emptiness inside him. He lay in bed, his thoughts a swirling mix of confusion and longing. The questions haunted him—what had Wei Ying seen? Why had he left so abruptly? Would he ever see him again? The silence of the house was suffocating, filled with memories and the constant ache of loss.

But Wangji endured. He clung to the hope that he could survive one day at a time, even as the hole in his heart seemed to grow larger. The nights were long and cold, mirroring his inner turmoil, but he had faced darkness before and survived. He would do so again, for Sizhui, for himself, and for the slim hope that one day, he might find peace amidst the pain.

Wangji's routine became a somber rhythm, a quiet existence marked by the mundane tasks he could still perform within the confines of his prison. The walls of the house, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage, each day blending into the next.

He spent hours in silent contemplation, his mind wandering through memories of happier times. The echoes of laughter, the warmth of Wei Ying's presence, and the bond they shared seemed like distant dreams. Wangji's heart ached with each recollection, yet he held onto them, drawing strength from the love that once filled his life.

Sizhui and Jingyi did their best to maintain a semblance of normalcy. They took turns bringing in groceries, preparing meals, and ensuring the household continued to function. Their presence was a comfort, a reminder that Wangji was not entirely alone, even though the emptiness persisted.

One night, as Wangji lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, he heard a soft knock on his door. It was Sizhui, his face a mix of concern and determination.

"Father," Sizhui began, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't stay like this forever. You need to find a way to heal, to move forward. Wei Ying... he wouldn't want you to wither away."

Wangji turned his head slightly, meeting Sizhui's gaze. The pain in his son's eyes mirrored his own. "I don't know how," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"One step at a time," Sizhui replied, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "You taught me that. When things seem impossible, you take it one step at a time. We'll get through this together."

Wangji nodded slowly, appreciating Sizhui's unwavering support. He knew his son was right. He couldn't let despair consume him. He had to find a way to move forward, even if it was just a small step each day.