Alisha POV
I couldn't do it anymore.
The silence had stretched too long, thin and sharp, cutting into places I didn't know could bleed. Alex's absence wasn't just emptiness—it was a wound that refused to close. Every hallway I walked through echoed with him. Every classroom felt tilted, wrong, like something essential had been removed and no one bothered to tell the world to stop spinning.
Life kept going. That was the cruelest part.
People laughed. Complained. Fell in love. Broke up. The campus buzzed with noise and movement, and I moved through it like a ghost—present, but not really here.
Alex was gone.
And no one said his name.
Andrew was back in my life.
Steady. Patient. Forgiving in a way that felt almost undeserved. He walked beside me again, talked to me again, smiled at me the way he used to—as if time hadn't shattered us once already. His warmth was familiar, safe. Easy to lean on.
For a moment… I almost did.
Almost let myself believe that this was enough. That forgiveness could turn into comfort. That comfort could turn into something real again.
But my heart wasn't here.
It was elsewhere.
Always elsewhere.
Alex.
I felt him everywhere—like a pressure beneath my skin, like a sound just beyond hearing. Even when he wasn't there, he was there. In my pauses. In my breaths. In the way my body reacted to empty spaces.
I walked faster than I should, my backpack slamming against my side with every step. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure it would give me away, sure that if Alex were anywhere nearby, he'd hear it and know.
"Ali."
Andrew's voice cut through the air—gentle, careful, like he was afraid I might shatter if he spoke too loudly.
I didn't turn.
I couldn't.
He caught up to me anyway, his hand brushing my arm, warm and grounding and wrong all at once. "Please," he said softly. "Talk to me. Let me help."
My throat tightened. "I can't," I whispered. The words felt torn out of me. "I… I have to find him."
Andrew went still. I felt it without looking.
"You don't have to explain," he said after a moment, his voice controlled, but strained. Too calm. Like someone holding something heavy for too long.
But I wanted him to understand.
That Alex wasn't just dangerous—he was untouchable. Like a fault line you didn't see until the ground split open beneath you. That I didn't just want him. I needed him safe. And as long as he was near me, safety was something he'd never have.
I stepped away.
I left Andrew behind.
The night swallowed me whole.
Every shadow made my heart leap. Every alley whispered possibilities. Every passing sound made me turn, hope surging painfully in my chest before crashing down again.
And then—
I felt it.
Not a sound. Not a movement.
A weight.
Something settled deep in my chest, heavy and undeniable, like gravity had suddenly shifted. My breath caught, my skin prickled, my bones aching with a certainty that had nothing to do with logic.
Alex.
I stopped walking.
"Alex…" I called softly, my voice barely more than air.
Nothing.
Panic rose fast, sharp and suffocating. "Alex!" I called again, louder this time.
My voice cracked.
Tears burned behind my eyes. I hated that. Hated how weak I sounded. But I needed him. I needed to see him with my own eyes—to know he was real, alive, still breathing in the same world as me.
And then he appeared.
Half in shadow, half caught in the weak glow of a streetlight. His face was partially hidden, but his body was unmistakable—every line taut, every movement controlled, restrained, like violence held behind glass.
"Alisha," he murmured.
My name sounded different in his voice. Lower. Rougher. Like it hurt him to say it.
I stepped closer before I could stop myself, my hands trembling. "Alex… I can't stay away," I said, the truth spilling out raw and unfiltered. "I have to know you're safe."
He stiffened.
Completely.
I saw it then—the storm behind his eyes, the tension coiled so tight it looked painful. And beneath it all, something darker flickered.
Jealousy.
"Stay back," he said, his voice rough, edged with danger. "You don't belong here. Not in this world. Not with me."
"I don't care about the world!" I shouted, my voice breaking apart. "I care about you. Where you are. What you're doing. I have to know!"
He moved closer.
Each step deliberate. Controlled. Like a predator closing distance—but there was something else there, too. Like he was trying to scare me away to protect me.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he whispered, low, almost a growl. "You really don't."
I stopped. My chest heaving. My hands shaking so badly I curled them into fists. My heart felt like it might explode right out of my ribs.
"Alex… I do," I said, my voice trembling but firm. "I'm asking for you. Just… you. That's all I want."
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then his shoulders dropped—just slightly.
And I saw it.
The guilt. The fear. The longing he hid from everyone else. The part of him that wanted to reach for me and the part that was terrified of what that would cost.
"You already have," he murmured. "By just being… here. Right here… where I can't touch you."
My breath hitched.
I took a tentative step forward, every instinct screaming at me to close the distance, to anchor him before he vanished again. "Then stay," I whispered. "Please. Don't run from me."
I looked into his eyes.
And waited.
The night held its breath.
And the world stopped
right there.