I sat by the window again, playing with Kairo's bracelet. The same seat. The same silence. The same guilt.
Outside, the world looked alive, children laughing near the street corner, a woman walking her dog, the distant hum of life that didn't know pain like mine. But inside, it felt like time had stopped for me.
I was alive, yes, breathing, eating, existing. But my life felt like it had been placed on hold, like someone pressed pause and forgot to press play again.
Every morning, I checked my phone, hoping for a message, a missed call, anything from my parents. Every night, I told myself maybe tomorrow they'd remember they had a daughter still breathing somewhere.
Tomorrow never came.
The empty inbox hurt more than any word they could have said. It reminded me I'd been alone for a long time, maybe always had been.
Andrew had been kind enough to try on my behalf. He drafted what sounded like an official message, sent it through email, polite, formal, explaining where I was, that I was safe, asking for confirmation that they received it.
Weeks later, there was still no reply.
Not a single word.
It broke something in me that I didn't even know was still whole.
New Zealand was supposed to be a fresh start. The air was crisp, the sky clear, the city peaceful. But inside, I was rotting.
I couldn't stop thinking about Kairo, about the life he lost. About how Zayden had sent me here with guilt carved into his heart.
How could I breathe freely knowing that this peace was bought with pain? That I was in the sanctuary of the reason Kairo was gone.
Every time I tried to enjoy the sunrise, my chest tightened. Every time I laughed, guilt punched through me. It gnawed at me, minute after minute, until I felt suffocated by something invisible but heavy as stone.
Andrew tried to help. He dragged me outside, sometimes without warning. "Fresh air," he'd say, with a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
We visited mountain trails, hidden waterfalls, quiet lakes. The scenery was breathtaking. For a brief while, I let it numb me, the way the sunlight broke through the trees, the scent of wet grass, the distant sound of waves.
For a moment, I forgot what it felt like to be hunted.
For a moment, I pretended I was normal.
Until the day Andrew burst through the front door.
It was early evening. I was by the window, Andrew's footsteps thundered through the hallway before I saw him. His face was pale, eyes darting to the window as if someone was watching from outside.
"Pack up," he said breathlessly, slamming the door shut behind him.
"What?" I asked, startled.
"Pack your things, Aria."
"Andrew, what's going on?"
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "They know. They found out where you are. We have to move."
My heart dropped, but something inside me didn't flinch the way it used to. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was finally understanding that running never changed the ending.
"Move?" I repeated. "Where?"
He hesitated. "To Zayden. He'll..."
I shook my head before he could finish. "No."
"Aria...."
"No!" I cut him off, standing so fast the chair scraped against the floor. "I am done running, Andrew. Do you understand? Done. If they want to kill me, then let them come."
He stared at me like he didn't recognize me.
"I can't keep running when I did nothing wrong," I continued, my voice breaking. "When they're the ones drenched in secrets and blood. When my brother's death still doesn't make sense. When I can't even remember what home is supposed to feel like!"
"Aria," he tried, stepping closer, "It's my duty to keep you safe."
"And I appreciate that," I said softly, tears stinging my eyes. "I really do. You've done more for me than anyone else ever has. But unless we're going back home, I'm not leaving."
His eyes softened, but his hands were trembling. "You don't understand what they'll do if they find you here."
"I do," I said. "I just don't care anymore."
He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died there.
For a moment, we just stood there, two people in a borrowed house, surrounded by quiet, holding on to the illusion of safety.
That night, I didn't sleep.
I sat by the window again, watching the sky bleed into night. My bag sat half-packed on the bed, untouched. My hands were shaking, but not from fear this time. From exhaustion.
Maybe Andrew was right. Maybe Zayden could protect me again. But how long would that last before the world swallowed us both whole?
I thought about his last words at the airport the way he'd kissed me like a man saying goodbye to his soul.
I'll come find you. And if I don't, know this sinner was sorry till the very end.
He had meant it. I could hear the truth in the way his voice cracked.
I pressed my hand to the glass, staring out at the quiet city, mind made up whispering to no one, "You don't have to find me, Zayden. I'll find you."
And somewhere in the dark, far away from this sanctuary, I hoped he was still breathing.
Because peace without him didn't feel like peace at all.
I eventually packed up.
Not because I wanted to run, but because I was done hiding.
I wasn't fleeing this time. I was going back. Back to where it all began.
Back to college.
If I was going to die, then I would die living. Not trapped in borrowed peace while they laughed and played me like a game.
"This is a bad idea," Andrew muttered under his breath as he made the call. I didn't need to ask who he was calling. Zayden.
He told him everything, my decision, my stubbornness, the fact that I wasn't changing my mind.
The look on Andrew's face said it all. Zayden must have argued, begged, or cursed, but Andrew didn't try to convince me again. He just nodded once, resigned.
By the time we boarded the plane, his shoulders were tense, his eyes scanning the crowd every few seconds.
He hadn't stood down, but I had.
In a way, I'd given up. I didn't have anything left worth clinging to, but I refused to die in fear. Kairo didn't, and neither would I.
When the plane landed, my courage wavered. My heart skipped painfully, and for a moment, I almost wanted to turn back to the quiet, lonely peace of New Zealand.
But I forced myself to breathe.
I wasn't cowering anymore.
The drive back to campus felt like a slow ride to my grave. Every familiar street looked different now smaller, colder.
Andrew filled the silence with instructions: emergency contacts, what to do if I was followed, when to call the police.
I nodded, trying to listen, but the pounding of my heart drowned him out.
Each thud echoed one truth, I was walking straight into danger.
But at least this time, I was walking there on my own terms.