#1 | The Aftermath - Phantom Rider Series

#28 | Coffee Break

Bill's POV

Our breaths returned to normal after our now daily morning ritual. I ran my fingers through her messy, sticky hair - she looked like a goddess.

"I love you." Her voice was sweet, like sugar on my lips. I couldn't speak yet, so I kissed the top of her head instead, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. Then I realized I had to say something. "I love you too!"

She lifted her head and looked at me, her blue eyes shining in the sunlight. "I am so scared of this feeling," she said. "It sort of hurts, you know? Does love have to hurt?"

I held her face in my hands, gently brushing her cheeks. "But it's a good kind of hurt, isn't it?"

Her eyes got teary, and it confused me how often she cried with me. "Why do I make her feel sad all the time?"

Then she continued, as if reading my thoughts, "It hurts because it is too big of a feeling inside of me. I have no idea where to keep it."

"You share it with me!" I said, not sure if this idea even made sense.

We kissed again, this time slower, lovingly. I couldn't help but smile at her. "You know," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "we should probably get out of the house at some point."

She laughed. It was rare, but when she did, it took me completely off guard - it sounded like music to me. "I suppose we should. But I kind of like being here with you."

"Me too," I said, pulling her closer. "But I'm also actually starving. How about we get some breakfast together in the city?"

"Deal," she agreed, kissing me one last time before leaving the kitchen.

I watched her go to the bathroom. For a split second, a memory crossed my mind of the first time I saw her naked - bleeding on cold shower tiles, unable to breathe. My instincts kicked in, and suddenly I got protective of her. "Bill, it's just a shower. She will be fine," I reminded myself. Yet, the feeling that something bad was about to happen poisoned my mind. "I cannot ever let myself be happy, can I?"

I almost never cook. I never had time or need to do it. That's one of the perks of being filthy rich - you can avoid things you don't find particularly exciting.

But today, our attempt at making breakfast together felt intimate and special. Well, I am not the best cook, but I know how to make coffee. She's not the cooking type either, so that makes two of us—beginners in something so normal to others. "Next time we will do it the right way," I laughed to myself, looking at the mess we made on the floor.

We laughed and joked, walking through the small town. No one knew us, no one cared about us. It felt like home, like some childhood memory I have buried deep down in me. But those were not memories - they were the future I sought so hard to find.

The world outside was vibrant. The same lake I sat by months ago, smoking cigarette after cigarette, suddenly became so alive. I heard birds that I had never noticed before. Hand in hand, walking, talking about everything and nothing.

"This feels like a dream," Mila said as we sat on a bench in the evening, watching the ducks in the lake. "I don't ever want to wake up."

I squeezed her hand, feeling the same way. "Then let's make sure we never have to."

Mila's POV

We had spent a beautiful day together, completely lost in the moment. Hours passed by too fast.

Bill stood at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta, his eyes flicking to me with a soft, affectionate smile. I was surprised at how natural this felt. It was as if we'd been doing this for years, yet every moment felt excitingly new.

"Can you give me the basil?" Bill asked.

I handed him the fresh herbs, our fingers touching. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I smiled, knowing he felt it too.

"You know," he said, sprinkling the basil onto the pasta sauce, "I could get used to this."

"Used to what?" I teased, leaning against the counter.

He turned to face me. "Used to us. Being together, cooking together, just... living."

My heart swelled at his words. "Me too. It's like everything has finally fallen into place."

Dinner was simple but perfect, shared over candlelight and laughter. It was only about us, no one else existed. It was as if we were creating a world of our own, a secret hideout for our souls.

Later, as we cleaned up the dishes, Bill wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my neck. "You know," he murmured against my skin, "I don't think I've ever been this happy."

I turned in his arms, looking up at him. "Me neither."

"I promise to keep this dream alive until the day we die."

"I promise you the same," I whispered, sealing this important pact with a kiss. Deep down, I still didn't believe it was possible. He didn't either. We both were liars.

The next day I woke up early and quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him. I wanted to look my best when he woke up. I washed myself, scrubbed my entire body, shaved my legs and everywhere else, washed my hair, and put on a touch of makeup. I picked a beautiful floral dress.

I wanted every day to be special. So I headed to the car to drive to the nearest bakery, bringing each of the guards a hot coffee mug along the way. Their night working hours were long, and this would cheer them up. They smiled at me as they let me out of the territory.

We couldn't eat pancakes for the rest of our lives. The thought of us, old and fat, sitting on the couch watching TV made me giggle. I'd love him anyway, even if he got fat, sick, and ugly.

I pulled up at the store, bought groceries and some pastries, and got the "fancy" coffee for Bill from a small coffee shop. I couldn't help but smile - it was a wonderful day.

When I opened the car door, my dress got stuck on something. As I tried to pull it loose, an enormous force of power pushed me backwards. A strong arm wrapped around my face, blocking my mouth. The coffee fell from my hand, splattering on the street. I tried to turn and scream, but the grip was too strong.