MY MOON

CHAPTER 31: ALYA

Returning to New York felt surreal, like stepping back into a life that no longer fit quite the same. The flight back was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed us in Chicago. The cabin was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the hum of the jet engines and the distant murmur of Casy's chatter.

I sat by the window, staring blankly at the clouds as they drifted by, my mind a tumultuous sea of thoughts. Alex sat across the aisle, his attention fixed on a laptop screen, though I doubted he was actually focusing on any work. The atmosphere between us was thick with unspoken words, a palpable tension that neither of us dared to breach. It was as if we were both afraid that saying anything might shatter the fragile truce we had managed to maintain since the night in the rain.

Casy, oblivious to the silent storm brewing between us, filled the silence with her animated recounting of the event and her plans for the rest of our trip. I nodded along, forcing smiles and responses where appropriate, but my mind was elsewhere. Every now and then, I stole a glance at Alex, catching the faint furrow of his brow or the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the keyboard. It was clear that he, too, was lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, navigating the aftermath of our confrontation.

When we landed, Alex immediately excused himself, citing urgent work at the office. It was an obvious attempt to avoid the conversation we both knew was inevitable. I watched him walk away, his shoulders stiff and his pace brisk, as if he could outrun the memories of Chicago that clung to both of us like shadows.

Back at the apartment, I moved through the motions of unpacking. My mind kept replaying the night in Chicago, the rain-soaked confrontation, and the look in Alex's eyes as he bared his soul to me.

His words haunted me, their weight settling heavily on my heart. "If you choose to stay, I am not letting you go." The conviction in his voice had been undeniable, a desperate plea wrapped in the guise of a promise. "I'm incomplete without you."

As I folded clothes and put away my things, my thoughts kept circling back to his confession. "It wasn't okay what happened." "Every thought I had was consumed by you." There had been an intensity in his eyes when he said that, a depth of feeling that seemed almost impossible to fake. For the first time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had been as tormented by our separation as I had been.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, staring at the open suitcase at my feet. What did Alex even mean to me now? Could I trust the sincerity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice? The Alex I saw in Chicago was a man stripped of pretense, his heart laid bare before me. There was no manipulation in his words, no hidden agenda. He had brought me to New York not to control me, but because he couldn't imagine his life without me. That truth, as stark and simple as it was, made my heart ache.

But then, the shadows of the past crept back into my mind. Why had he done what he did two years ago? What had driven him to say those words that shattered me, that left me questioning everything about myself and our relationship? The memory of that night, the cold detachment in his voice, the way he looked at me, so heartless, was a wound that still bled with the slightest touch.

My heart warred with my mind. Part of me wanted to believe in the Alex who stood before me in the rain, drenched and vulnerable, confessing his fears and regrets. But another part of me was still trapped in the past, held captive by the pain and betrayal of his abandonment. I needed to understand the truth behind his actions, to reconcile the man who had hurt me with the one who now professed his undying love.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, letting the memories wash over me. The last two years had been a journey through darkness, each day a struggle to move forward with the wounds he gave me. But now, as I stood at this crossroads, I realized that the only way to move forward was to confront the shadows of our past. I needed to know why he had left, to hear his side of the story, and to decide.