Twilight of Shadows | LingOrm (GxG)

NINETEEN

Two Years Later

"Lada, shall we go?" P'Chai asked quietly, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. His tone was gentle, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter her.

Lada stared at the apartment building, her fingers tightening around her phone. It felt like a lifetime since she'd first started coming here-every day after work, sitting in the car, hoping. Waiting.

For Earn.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice thin, almost lost in the hum of the rain tapping softly against the windows.

P'Chai put the car in drive, pulling away slowly. Lada's eyes stayed locked on the building, her heart heavy in her chest. Each day felt the same. The same empty routine, the same cold ache.

The same loss.

As the apartment faded from view, Lada sighed and leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes for a moment. It had been two years. Two years, and she still couldn't stop coming back here.

"What am I doing?" she muttered under her breath. But she knew. She was waiting. Always waiting for something she wasn't sure would ever happen.

"You okay back there, Lada?" P'Chai's voice broke through her thoughts, but she didn't answer right away. What could she say? How could she explain this endless ache, the way her heart pulled her back to a place that no longer had anything left for her?

She blinked back the sting of tears. "I'm fine."

The car slowed as they reached her penthouse. P'Chai turned off the engine and waited, giving her time. He always did. He knew. He had seen her like this more times than she could count.

But she still didn't move, her hand absently running over her phone screen, hovering over a contact she had never been able to delete. Earn's number. Her thumb brushed the screen lightly, as if one touch could bring everything back.

God, she missed her.

Lada swallowed hard, the silence pressing in. Then, from beside her, a small voice broke through the quiet.

"Mommy?"

Lada flinched. Narin. She had almost forgotten she was there, sitting quietly, lost in her own world. Lada turned and saw her daughter's wide, sad eyes-eyes far too old for someone so young.

"Are you thinking about Aunty Earn again?" Narin asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

Lada's heart clenched. How could she hide this from Narin? How could she lie when her daughter was hurting just as much as she was?

She nodded slowly. "Yes, baby... I am."

Narin bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "I miss her," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Every day."

Lada reached back and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I know, sweetheart. I miss her too."

The rain was coming down harder now, the rhythm against the windows steady and unforgiving. Lada let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. How had they ended up like this? Waiting. Always waiting for someone who wasn't coming back.

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Narin asked, her voice breaking.

Lada's throat tightened. What could she say? How could she answer that?

"I don't know," she whispered, blinking away the tears she'd fought so hard to keep in. "I don't know, baby."

Narin's sniffle broke through the air, and Lada couldn't hold back any longer. The tears fell, mixing with the rain outside, and she turned her face toward the window, hiding her face from her daughter. She hated this. Hated feeling so weak, so broken.