𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

26

AKIRA:

Jade dropped me off at the airport, her warm smile a reassuring presence as she hugged me goodbye. I tried to focus on her words, on the way she told me to take care, to call her when I arrived, but my mind was elsewhere. As I watched her drive away, my eyes drifted over the busy parking lot, hoping-absurdly, maybe-that I'd see him, that he'd appear, wanting to say goodbye. But the bustling crowd only reminded me that he wasn't there. Ezekiel wouldn't come, and I was on my own.

I felt a heavy ache in my chest, a strange emptiness I couldn't shake. A dozen questions swirled in my mind, questions I hadn't dared ask Jade. I wanted to know if she knew what Ezekiel really was, if she'd ever seen the part of him he kept hidden, the shadows that clung to him. Did her husband carry the same dark mystery, or was it only Ezekiel who held such secrets?

I'd searched for answers, staying up night after night, reading about creatures with glowing red eyes, about the kinds of monsters that haunted old legends-devils, werewolves, vampires. But none of it seemed real, none of it should have existed. And yet... with Ezekiel, it was different. His presence wasn't a story or a myth. He was real, as real as the fear I felt when I looked into his eyes. But how could a monster look so heartbreakingly beautiful? How could someone so dangerous make me feel alive in a way I'd never felt before?

I sighed, hugging my bag close as I sat in the terminal, waiting for my flight. I was torn, caught between fear and something I couldn't name. I feared him, yet I couldn't stop longing for him. I wanted to hate him, to convince myself that he was everything I should avoid, that he was someone I should leave behind here, in this city. But no matter how much I tried to push him away in my mind, I couldn't stop the pull, the strange desire that only grew the more I fought it.

The memories pressed in, filling the empty space around me. I remembered the way he looked at me, as if I was the only one in the world, his eyes intense and unwavering. He'd whispered my name in that soft, low voice that had sent a shiver through me, his hand brushing my cheek, his touch both gentle and terrifying. Every time I thought about him, I felt that same mix of fear and fascination. It was as though he had wrapped himself around my heart, holding me tight in a way I couldn't break free from, even as I sat here, miles away from him.

I leaned back, staring up at the fluorescent lights overhead, trying to silence the relentless thoughts. But all I could think about was him. How he had once made me feel safe, how he'd protected me when I hadn't even known I needed protecting. And how, in the end, he was the one I'd needed to protect myself from.

My flight was called over the loudspeaker, and I stood, clutching my bag as I made my way to the gate. But even as I boarded, even as the plane took off and the city faded from view below me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving something behind. Or maybe, someone.

As I settled into my seat, the city lights disappearing below, I found myself wishing, just for a moment, that he'd come after me. That he'd follow me, that he'd fight for me, that he'd show me that the connection we shared was worth it, despite the fear, despite the danger. But I knew better. Ezekiel wasn't someone who could just follow. He belonged to a world of shadows, and I was only just beginning to understand what that truly meant.

🤍🤍🤍

EZEKIEL:

I stood back, far enough that she wouldn't notice me, but close enough to see everything. She moved through the terminal with a quiet hesitance, her eyes darting around as if she was hoping-though she'd probably never admit it-that I might be there. I wanted nothing more than to step forward, to let her see me, to show her she didn't have to face this alone. But I held back. She needed her space, a clean break. That was what I kept telling myself, anyway.

When Jade dropped her off, I watched them share a hug, saw the way she lingered, as though saying goodbye was harder than she'd expected. It tore at me, that small sign of reluctance. She had no idea I was here, watching, feeling every moment of her departure as deeply as if I was leaving, too. And in a way, I was. The ache that gripped me was sharper than I'd ever imagined.

But then she glanced around, searching. I saw the faint glimmer of hope in her eyes, the way she scanned the crowd as if she half-expected me to show up. I clenched my fists, wrestling with the urge to step forward. She still wanted me there, despite everything. She hadn't stopped hoping. But that was exactly why I couldn't give in. For her sake, I needed to let her go.

Every part of me wanted to memorize her, to take in the way she held herself, the subtle sadness in her gaze, the strength she tried so hard to project. I tried to lock away every detail-the way she adjusted her bag, the way her gaze lingered on the gate as if she wasn't quite ready to go.

When her flight was called, something inside me twisted. She stood up, lifting her chin with that quiet determination I'd always admired. I followed her in silence, blending in with the flow of people, watching her move closer to the gate. Her hand shook slightly as she handed over her ticket, but she held steady, facing forward with a resolve that made me want to reach out, to take her hand and tell her she didn't have to do this alone. But I stayed back, letting her make the final steps on her own.

As she passed through the doors, disappearing from view, I felt a hollowness settle deep inside me. The terminal felt emptier, quieter, now that she was gone. I stood there for a long moment, watching the spot where I'd last seen her, until the crowd filled the space she'd left behind.

It was for the best, I reminded myself, even as the emptiness tightened in my chest. She was safer this way, far from anything I could bring into her life.

🤍🤍🤍🤍

AKIRA:

The first night in Japan was unbearable. As soon as the lights dimmed and silence filled the room, the ache in my chest surged, each heartbeat a raw, unrelenting reminder of him. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and eventually, the tears came-soft at first, but soon spilling over in waves that wouldn't stop. I clutched the sheets, biting back the sobs, trying to convince myself that this would pass. But as the hours dragged on, the hollow ache only deepened.

By the second night, my father had noticed. He hovered outside my door, his voice full of worry when he checked in on me. When he suggested calling a doctor, I shook my head, knowing no one could help. No medicine could reach this kind of pain, no remedy could soothe the emptiness that Ezekiel's absence had carved into me.

On the third night, everything unraveled. The pain became a physical force, gripping my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping, the tears streaming down my face as I fought for control. My father panicked, dialing for an ambulance as he rushed to my side. But all I could feel was the searing ache, as if my heart itself was rejecting this reality. I clung to my chest, feeling as though I was being torn in two.

I had never felt anything like this before, not even when Mom left me behind, or when Kenji betrayed me and shattered every promise we'd made. I'd begged them both to stay, fought to hold on. But this pain-this was different. This was sharper, deeper, clawing at me in a way that felt beyond survival. Why was it that just the thought of Ezekiel-of leaving him behind, of losing him-could twist my heart into something so raw and vulnerable?

The sobs tore from my chest, loud and uncontainable, as if my pain itself was trying to escape. I felt as though I was dying, like the weight of this ache was pressing every last breath from my lungs. I had always thought myself strong, resilient. But here I was, helpless on the floor, consumed by a hurt that I didn't know how to stop.