Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SANORA
“I don’t know, Mother. I’m just excited to see you again.” I mirrored her smile.
She stood up from her bed, making her way into the living room and then the kitchen. Pulling open the refrigerator, she revealed everything she had bought and stocked in anticipation of my return.
My eyes nearly watered. “Why are you being so sweet? It’s not like you won’t be wishing I was out of your house by the third week.”
She laughed, lowering herself into one of the dining chairs. “Just come home first. You should be leaving by now.”
I nodded, checking my watch. “In one hour.”
She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I told you to just gather things from the Internet. Your research was in vain. Now you’ll have to start all over when you get here.”
I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. She was wrong. My research wasn’t in vain. “It wasn’t.”
She scoffed. “How so? You said you keep hitting a wall every time. It’s wasted effort.”
“Yes, but…” My gaze lifted to where Thrax sat on the counter—the very spot where I usually perched while he cooked for me.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on me as I sat curled into the couch nearest the door, drinking me in because he knew he wasn’t going to have any other chance to.
I held his gaze as I went on, “…I found something even better. I’d do it all again.
I don’t care if my thesis doesn’t come out as perfect as I wanted it to be.
I’m just so happy I came here.” I confessed to him. Just so happy I got to meet him.
Thrax’s eyes softened in a way I’d never seen before.
I could have sworn he didn’t want me to leave either, even if he’d been the one to pack my bags and load them into the back of the car.
Because it was our last time together, I had spent nearly the whole day wrapped up in his bed with him, basking in the heat of him, memorising the particular rhythm of his breath, and collecting the scent that clung to his clothes and sheets.
I had made him tell me stories just so I could memorize the cadence of his voice, told him stupid jokes to watch him grin, tempted him until he made me come over and over on his fingers.
If it were up to me, I’d have preferred having him fuck me into his bed with his cock instead, but Thrax had said—“There is no goddamned way you’re stepping out of the house and away from me if I fuck you, Nher.
I’m a very possessive man and I don’t want any other man to know what this pussy feels like after I’ve been there.
That’d drive me beyond insanity. I don’t even want to think of it. ”
Oh, well.
I understood why he had said it; he was doing it for both our sakes. He was the sane one between us, and for that I felt a small, grudging gratitude. Because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to return to the humdrum of my daily life if I truly knew how the Soulless Man felt inside me.
My mother’s voice pulled me back. “Then it’s not a waste if you’re happy. And also, I bought all those things in the refrigerator because I thought you’d be skinnier than you already were. One time, I worried you might have poisoned yourself before coming back.”
I chuckled, stealing a quick glance at Thrax and catching the faint lift at one corner of his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Your cheeks, your face. You look healthier and happier than before.”
Heat rushed to my face. “I’m always happy.”
She arched a brow, her tone soft. “I’m your mother, Sanora. I know what I’m saying. You look…very different.”
I bit back the truth—that someone had been preparing meals, feeding me, and watching me eat every day like it was his religion.
That someone had been filling me with firework after firework with the mere brush of his hand.
I couldn’t tell her that, I was leaving him.
There was no point admitting it now. It was already over between us.
“Okay, Mother, I’ll call you when I get on the train.”
“Alright. Take care of yourself.”
I pressed the red button to end the video call and let out a long, weighted sigh. The heaviness in my chest only grew. The emptiness the call left behind was a physical thing in the room.
We sat there in a quiet that was loud with everything unsaid. He wouldn’t stop staring, and I kept my eyes fixed everywhere but on him as if that would make leaving easier. If I even looked at him one more time in this silence, I knew I’d break.
I stayed quiet with him a while longer before rising to pick up my handbag from the couch. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I summoned every ounce of courage I had left and forced myself to meet his eyes.
Hold it together, Sanora.
I tore my gaze away immediately, inhaling once more. “I think I’ll be going now.”
His answer came after a pause. “Okay.”
Okay?
That was it?
What had I been expecting? For him to jump from the counter, pull me back, and beg me not to go?
Before a tear could slip free, I spun to the door, clutching my phone so tightly I half-expected the screen to crack. I opened it slowly, praying—desperately—that he would stop me, say something, anything, to hold me back for just a minute longer.
But nothing came. Silence pressed in, my throat closed up with all the words I couldn’t speak, not without shattering.
Even still, I turned around, my vision blurring, but I blinked away the tears. “You’re not going to say anything?” My gaze swept across him. “Not even bye?”
His grip tightened around the counter’s edge until his knuckles whitened. “Bye.”
I gave a small shrug, my teeth biting down hard on my lip to keep it from trembling. “Just that?”
He averted his eyes, silent for a long beat before finally coming off the counter. But he didn’t move away from it. He stood rooted there, like it was the only thing holding him back. His gaze found me again. “Have a safe trip.”
My brows shot up.
Have a safe trip?
Fuck my trip.
Shaking my head, I turned back, letting the tears fall freely now as I went to the car, my chest caving from the force of its own breaking.
I just needed the car, I just needed the closed doors to fall apart in peace.
I couldn’t do that here. Not here. Not in front of him, not when he was so damn composed and calm.
“Sanora.”
His voice stopped me at the car door. My name on his tongue pulled at another version of pain inside me. Maybe he should have stayed silent because hearing him say my name nearly had me cracking a little bit more.
Sniffling, I wiped at my eyes before turning. He stopped some inches from the door, keeping his distance.
He wouldn’t even come near.
“I will always remember you. Know that.”
I gripped the door handle as I forced the knot in my throat down with a swallow. “Okay.” I nodded faintly. He began to turn away, but the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Not even a hug?”
He looked at me, then glanced aside. Of course. What else had I expected from someone who couldn’t even meet my eyes again?
“We’ve had plenty of that,” he said at last.
I nodded slowly. We’d had plenty of kisses, too. I waited on him, silently pleading for anything that might tether me here for even one more breath. I knew too well that if he said the word, I’d stay a month longer without hesitation.
But before I could speak up to ease the silence, he turned, disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him.
I bit down hard on my lip, the copper taste of blood flooding my tongue as I tried to trap the storm inside me.
With blurred vision, I slipped into the car and gripped the wheel and started driving.
Over and over, I whispered to myself that it didn’t matter, that I should swallow it down, that he would forget me soon enough.
He would go on with his endless life, and I was just a passing memory to him.
I should be happy I contributed to the history of his life, and that was all it ever was.
And maybe I would forget him too. With time. But right now?
Right now, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.
I rubbed at my chest with one hand, trying to soothe the pain as I fought not to sob, chanting empty reassurances in my head.
It felt like hours before I finally reached Weeny Man’s place, pulling the car into the exact spot I had picked it up from weeks ago—only now, the back bumper was indented from whatever had struck it that night in the rain.
Fishing out some money from my bag, I rolled the bills around the car key, walked to the front of the house, and tucked it beneath a dead flower pot.
The whole place was coated in dust, confirming that he really disappeared from Nimorran, and he still hadn’t returned from wherever he had disappeared to. Hoping he wasn’t dead, I whispered my gratitude to his door before walking back to the open trunk and dragging out my boxes.
When I was done, I called the same man who had driven me on my first day in Nimorran. And later to The Crater.
“Hello.”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, this is—”
“I know who this is. You’re not dead. I hope you got to see your grandma.”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, remembering I had told him that lie the other day. “I think I need a lift to the station.”
“I was expecting that. Where are you?”
I described Weeny Man’s bookshop, hanging up once he confirmed he was on his way.
I leaned against the car, tapping my phone screen over and over, as if his message might miraculously appear. I was hoping his name would flash across it with some small confession, or a small protest about my departure. It didn’t. The screen stayed stubbornly blank.
Some minutes later, the man drove up, and with effort, he shifted all my boxes into the back of his car. I gave the environment one last look before climbing inside, swallowing the hollow feeling that had been growing since I left the house.