It had been nearly a month. October was drawing to a close, and everything had returned to normal. Sara was back in her routine—going to university, stopping by the café, and returning home to find dinner already prepared. She had grown accustomed to living with Maera now. Yet, the distance between them remained. Sara no longer sought closeness, nor did she try. She knew Maera wasn't hers, and she had no right to inch too close. She had, to a great extent, learned to control herself. It was 5:00 PM. The weather had turned cold, announcing the arrival of winter. As much as life had settled back into its rhythms, Sara found her mind preoccupied with something else—her
dreams. Lately, she had been seeing her mother repeatedly in them. Perhaps it was a memory—one Sara could no longer access. She didn't remember what had truly happened two years ago. All she recalled was that after leaving home, she had received a trembling call fromher mother. A location was mentioned. And after that—her memory was like a wiped slate. Following her usual schedule, she was about to leave for the café. But as she entered the lounge, she found Maera staring blankly into space. The glass of ice in front of her had melted intowater. Even in this cold, she had been lost in thought for who knows how long. Sara stepped forwardand waved a hand in front of her eyes. Maera's spirit seemed to return to her body all at once. She looked at Sara, who stood withadiary in one hand and her phone in the other. She understood—Sara was headed to the café. "Where were you lost?" Sara asked. "You didn't visit Sim today either, did you?" Maera simply sighed in response. Sara looked at her for a moment but said nothing. She turned to leave—this was just like her. Shenever intruded into others' personal matters, nor did she allow others into her own. But just as she was about to step away, Maera grabbed her hand. "Wait, Sara. I need to talk to you," she said, then hesitantly continued, "Can we…can we restart
everything?" The words hit Sara like a bolt of lightning. She turned sharply. "What are you saying, Maera?" she asked, almost in shock. Maera pulled her down beside her and began to speak, her voice heavy: "I went home today. Sim was there. But so was Danial. I tried—just like you asked me to—I
really tried to talk to Sim calmly, to control my anger. But… it was like she didn't care. She
behaved as if I was a stranger, like I didn't exist. And during our conversation, she kept turningto Danial… again and again. It felt like she wanted me to feel like a nobody. And then…" Maera couldn't finish her sentence. The words caught in her throat. Sara sat quietly beside her. Maera continued, her voice trembling, "She told me… that in a few days…she's going tomovein with that damn Danial." Finally, a tear slipped from Maera's eye. She wiped it away harshly, hoping more wouldn't
follow—but tears never stop after just one. "Sara… is this my karma? Is this the punishment for what I did to you? I abandoned you, andnow she's abandoning me. Just because she found someone—someone she barely knows. Amonth ago she told me she couldn't live without me, and now… now she's trying to kill me fromthe inside. That's why… I want to start over with you." Sara listened in silence, letting the weight of Maera's words settle between them. Then she spokeslowly: "Maera… if someone you love deeply—someone you'd die for—told you they wanted toplaywith fire, would you let them?" Maera shook her head. "Of course not. I'd do everything I could to save them, to make themunderstand."
"Exactly," Sara said with a faint smile. "Sim is playing with fire right now. She'll burn, Maera. And if you don't stop her, no one will. That's why… I'll tell you something I've never toldanyonebefore." Sara inhaled deeply. "Maera… I'm intersex. You know what that means. I'm fifty percent male, fifty percent female—by gender. Technically, there's no place in this world for someone like me to fall in love. I'verealized that now." She held out her right index finger, straight like a road, and then placed her left index finger
beside it. "You and I—our lives were running parallel, side by side. I got stuck somewhere. And you—who were just walking beside me—helped me out a little. And in doing so, I mistakenly steppedinto your life's path. I became the third wheel, Maera. And a third wheel has no place. It's just abackup, a secondary option." She paused.
"I was never written into your destiny, Maera. Every person's fingers are tied to someone else'swith a red string—their soulmate. No matter how much someone else tries, they can't sever that
thread. It's the mark of a perfect pair. And me? There's no string tied to my fingers. I was never
meant to love anyone. Love is a taboo for me. And when you trigger a taboo, the punishment issevere." She looked down. "I know I have DID… Dissociative Identity Disorder. Sometimes when I wake up, it feels likeI've just come out of a dream. And when I look around, the house is covered in blood—or at least, my mouth tastes like blood. I hate it. But maybe… my other personality is brutal. And
sometimes… I want to sink into that personality too. I think I was meant to walk alone, Maera."She turned to her and said softly, "So take back the promise you made to me. I don't needa
savior. But Sim does. Go save her, Maera. She's your partner. Not me. She's lost—and you'retheonly one who can bring her back." Sara struggled to hold her composure, her voice steady even as her heart trembled. "Let's end this here, Maera." Maera, who had listened to everything in stunned silence, suddenly looked up. "What do you mean?" Sara stood. "I mean we shouldn't meet again. Let's just stay friends. Go save Sim. She needs you. I don't. Not
anymore. Go—before it's too late." Without waiting for a reply, she turned away. Just before reaching the door, she looked back. Maera had also stood up. "When are you leaving?" Sara asked. "In a week," Maera replied. Sara walked over, touched her forehead gently to Maera's, closed her eyes, and tried hardtostopher tears. "Let's not meet again… Goodbye, Maera." She looked into her eyes once more—tears mirrored her own. If Sara had lingered even a secondlonger, she might have changed her mind. So she left quickly, opening the door just as a coldwind swept into the room and made Maera shiver.
Life is strange. It makes you walk on thorns, and doesn't offer even a single flower. Evenits deadflowers and fruits are poisonous. It is kind to some, and to others, cruel—as if it hates them. Sometimes, life makes you beg for death. And who could understand that better than Sara—walking alone down the street, broken andfragmented—or Maera, standing frozen in the lounge, as if caught in a trance. Sara walked in the October cold, without a jacket. As if the freezing wind could touch her soul
and she wouldn't care. She was lost in thought. The person she had loved with all her being—shewould never see her again. And it was all her own doing. Her life had always begun withMaera—and ended where Maera stopped. Until now, she had survived on the hope that Maeramight come back. But now there was no hope. Now, there would be no Maera. The thought broke her completely. Tears streamed down her face. Her legs could no longer carryher. She sat on the side of the road, covering her mouth with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. But there's no going back in time. Maera was still standing in the lounge, numb, lost. When she finally realized Sara was longgone, she whispered to herself: "I had seen love being tortured by people—but today, I've seen a person torturing love." A bitter smile crept onto her face. She went to her room, picked up her bag—and just as she reached the door, she stopped. She turned back, walked into Sara's study room, and left a note beneath the paperweight. Sara,Whether I should say it or not, I don't know.Thank you—for everything you did for
me.Goodbye. Forever.—Maera :)
And then she left. Never to return. _______________________________________________________________.....>>
Sam was busy in the kitchen, juggling chores—on one side, the laundry was going, and ontheother, he was preparing dinner. Zero had somehow convinced him, with exaggerated concernandstrategic emotional blackmail, that he was still recovering and couldn't risk falling sick again. So, naturally, all the work had fallen on poor Sam's shoulders.
And what choice did Sam have?
He had helplessly surrendered to Zero's theatrics—and now, he was basically the housemaid. Zero stood nearby, wearing a light hoodie, completely lost in the breeze drifting in throughtheopen window, his thoughts wandering God knows where—until Sam's voice snapped himout of
his trance. "Hey, Zero! If you can't help with the work, at least don't add to it! Close that window—thedust
is blowing in, and I just finished mopping!" Sam's voice echoed from across the kitchen, dragging Zero back to reality. He turned andsawSam chopping vegetables for dinner. Zero smirked, responding in his usual teasing tone, "Well, what else are you here for? If youcan't do your job properly, I might have to fire you." Sam shot him a furious glare. Their eyes met—Zero grinned shamelessly. Pushing boundaries with absolute audacity, Zero asked, "Want some coffee?" Sam looked at him flatly. "No."
"One word answer, huh? Fine. Then wash this cup for me—here, I'm done with it." Zero set thecup on the table with a mischievous laugh. Sam stared at him like he might actually strangle him. "Zero, you—" But the words just wouldn't come. What could he even say to this ridiculous person who hadpractically enslaved him while he himself stood idly on the balcony enjoying the breeze?
Zero turned away again. "I'm heading to my room. Call me when dinner's ready." And with that, he disappeared inside, leaving Sam silently staring after him. "Zero… you're still just a kid," Sam thought with a faint, defeated smile. A while later... It was 7:00 PM. They sat down for dinner, Zero still fully engrossed in fighting his food likeit
owed him money. Sam watched him for a moment before saying: "Zero."
"Hm?" came the distracted response.
"Do you even know how to eat like a human being?!" Sam's tone had taken a sharp turn from polite to irritated. But Zero wasn't the type to let thingsgo. In fact, he thrived on provocation. "Oh really? Am I eating you that you're so bothered by it?" Zero retorted without missinga beat. Sam went speechless. He just stared at Zero, wondering—how do you even have a normal conversation with this idiot?After a moment, in a quieter voice, Sam mumbled, "Zero, I honestly wonder…if I weren't here, what would you even do?" Zero didn't even look up. "I'd die." The words were so casually spoken that they knocked the breath out of Sam's lungs. He stoppedmid-chew, his chopsticks frozen in the air, and stared at Zero, who was still calmly eatinglikehehadn't just dropped a bomb. It wasn't the first time Sam had heard odd things from Zero. But this time, the weight of his
words felt different. They sounded too real—too final. Would he really die…?
Sam began to suspect that Zero was avoiding his gaze on purpose. Getting a little more serious, Sam said gently, "Zero… you shouldn't say things like that. Thoseare strong words. When we—"
"When you start to care about someone, their absence and their silence do start to kill you, Sam,"Zero cut in before Sam could finish. "Sometimes, the very person you care for the most…is theone unknowingly breaking you into pieces. And we endure the pain—quietly, even gladly." Before Sam could respond, Zero stood, picked up both of their plates, and went to wash them. Sam remained seated, watching him silently. There was something in Zero's words that had shaken him. Maybe, for the first time, Sam had heard a deeper part of Zero—a part he'd always hiddenbeneath that childish, chaotic façade. He'd always assumed Zero was all games and no depth. But
now... something in his perception had shifted. Could he be in love with me? Sam wondered, surprised by the thought.
He looked toward the kitchen and considered confronting Zero directly—but then he sawhis
mood, and decided it probably wasn't the right time. Maybe he was just saying it. Maybe it didn't
mean what it sounded like. Trying to shake off the lingering weight of the moment, Sam filled a glass of water, pickedupthe remote, and began searching for a movie. But his mind… remained elsewhere. He turned on the TV and started flipping through the endless list of movies, trying to findsomething decent to watch. Zero, who had just finished washing the dishes, dried his hands witha paper towel by the microwave. His eyes, however, were fixed on Sam. He could tell Sam was struggling to pick a movie. Watching him get frustrated wasn't anything new—it was a familiar sight by now. Zero knewSam too well. Every little habit. Every frown. Every sigh. He leaned casually against the counter, just staring. And Sam—finally feeling the weight of that warm, intense gaze—looked up. Their eyes met. Sam caught Zero red-handed, again. But by the time Zero realized he'd been caught, it was
already too late to pretend otherwise. Still, he couldn't drop his guard that easily. So instead, heheld the stare, acting as if he was simply zoned out—lost in some distant thought. "Zeyad!" Sam called out suddenly, snapping him back. Zero blinked, pretending to jolt out of his daze. "Yes?" he asked, in a tone of exaggeratedsurprise. Sam didn't say anything. He knew this boy too well. This friend of his—half brother, half
chaos—had always been like this. Zero walked over and flopped down beside him without invitation, grabbing the remote andstarting to scroll through movie options. But for the first time, Sam noticed something unsettling. Something in Zero was off. Something more than his usual dramatics or childish mischief. A silence behind the words, adistance behind the eyes. He didn't say anything about it—not yet. But he saw it. Felt it. _______________________________________________________________.....>>
Time passed like a gust of wind. November arrived, brushing the world with its cold breath. It had only been two days since Maera left. Sara hadn't gone home since then. She was staying at Alexa's dorm on campus, buried beneath borrowed blankets and even moreborrowed silence. She didn't talk much. Didn't cry. Just… existed. Like a ghost in someone else's room. She hadn't even told Maera goodbye properly—not really. That word had slipped throughtrembling lips, but the ache hadn't followed through yet. It was lingering. Waiting. Festeringsomewhere behind her ribs. With exams just around the corner, there wasn't much time left. Sara no longer wanted toreturnhome, yet all her belongings were still there. Finally, today—after days of silence—she decidedto go back just to collect her things. She hadn't called Maera once since then. Or maybe… she simply didn't want to look back anymore. As soon as she opened the door, the damp, musty scent of an abandoned house greeted her. Sarasmiled faintly. She stepped inside. Dust blanketed the table. Her jacket lay crumpled on the side of the couch. And the half-full
glass of water was still there—stale, untouched. It didn't take her long to realize: Maera hadtrulyleft. She scanned the house one more time, taking in every inch of silence. Closing her eyes, she drew in a long breath, listening intently to the sounds around her—therustling of the dry leaves outside, the faint dripping from the bathroom faucet, the breeze
brushing past her like a memory. And then… that scent. That strange, cold scent of loneliness. One she had now grown accustomed to. She let herself feel it all. And for a brief moment… it brought her relief. When she opened her eyes again, the house looked different—cold, hollow. Aspace no longer
lived in. Haunted, not by ghosts, but by memories. She walked over to the table, dragging two fingers through the dust and watching the powderytrail they left behind. She looked at her fingers and laughed bitterly.
"Look," she whispered to no one, "even my dreams and happiness are covered in dust now. I
can't see anything clearly anymore… not through this fog." Her voice held no emotion—just a flat resignation. She stood up, walked to her room, and began packing. She wasn't going to stay in Japan after theexams. She had made up her mind—she would return to America and seek the truth. In the study, she moved quickly, throwing her books and notebooks into her suitcase. That's
when she saw it. A note. Pressed beneath a paperweight. The note Maera had left for her. She unfolded it slowly. "Sara, whether I should say it to you or not I don't know…Thank you, Sara, for everythingyoudid for me.Goodbye… forever.– Maera :)" The world slipped back in time. A tear rolled silently from her left eye. She sat down, letting her things fall where they may, and looked up—her eyes seeking answersfrom some silent sky above her head. And then she broke. Crying, trembling, she whispered, "When You never made me worthy of love…why didYouplant these emotions in me? Why would You curse me like this? Why turn my life into
something worse than hell?!" She wasn't speaking to Maera. She was speaking to her God. "To whom do I belong? Why did You make me this way? What is the purpose of all this pain?"She sobbed harder, clutching her chest with both hands, pounding at her heart as though tryingtosilence it. "Why… why is accepting the truth so hard… why did I let her go? Why…" Her cries stretched into the stillness, echoed by no one, answered by nothing. She wept until her
tears dried. Until her throat was raw. Until her chest hurt too much to keep grieving.
Then, something shifted. A decision. Enough, she told herself. Enough of life playing games with me. She stood—eyes red, face swollen, but gaze steady. No more tears. The problem was the heart, wasn't it?
Then she would destroy it. She packed the rest of her books with robotic precision, zipped the suitcase, and stepped outside. Before she left, she turned around one last time. She looked at the house, smiled faintly, and whispered, "Goodbye." Goodbye to Maera.Goodbye to every longing.Goodbye to pain.Goodbye to everything that hadever belonged to the heart. She walked away slowly, descending into the winter evening. In her hand, she still held Maera's note. She stared at it blankly. Then, picking a black rose and a lily—Maera's favorite flowers—shewrapped the note in them. She took out a lighter. And set it all on fire. The flame crackled. She dropped it into the metal bin by the gate and watched the smoke spiral
into the sky. Her heart asked her one last question before she stepped away: "Sara… did you really burn it all? Everything… every part of me?" She paused for a second. And then, crushing the shattered pieces of her soul beneath the weight of her feet, she movedforward. Toward a new life.One far away from the curse of her heart.A life she promised would nowonlybelong to her mind.No feelings.No weakness.No more love. But life… isn't so simple.
Even when you tear your skin apart trying to survive, it finds a way to bleed you. Even if you destroy your heart, life keeps offering wounds to remind you it still exists. As Sara walked forward, the leaves behind her fell from the trees and crumbled under her feet—lifeless and dry. Just like the last fragments of hope inside her.....
TO BE CONTINUED