FIFTY-THREE
Aliya
PRESENT
I sit at the edge of a familiar ledge that somehow feels like a safe place.
The wind gently sweeps through my hair as the moonlit schoolyard sprawls out beneath me, casting a calming atmosphere over the night.
It feels just like back then – a freezing night when I wandered the streets in my pajamas, homeless and lost.
My feet dangle as I stare into the abyss.
How did I get here?
The last thing I remember is storming out of my house. And the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the SVH, the key to the rooftop clutched in my hand.
I’m so damn tired.
Tired of life.
Were you also this tired before you ended your life, Lio?
Tonight, he’s not here to stop me. No one is here.
I lift my head and gaze up at the bright full moon, the only witness to my deed. Was the moon your witness too, Lio?
I let out a sharp hiss as a stabbing pain shoots through my hand, snapping me back to reality. Looking down, I see my nails digging into my palms, leaving red marks on my skin.
With a shaky breath, I try to release the tension gripping my body.
Calm down, Aliya.
I must’ve lost my mind.
Instead, I close my eyes and take in the cool night air.
In the pursuit of the impossible, you may find the achievable.
Back then, I didn’t fully understand what Lio meant by those words. But now, the meaning sinks in, reverberating through me.
It’s about finding what seems unattainable, despite the challenges.
Lio encountered those impossibilities, but the pain was too much, and he gave up.
But I won’t give up.
Not this time.
Suddenly, the sound of the rooftop door creaking open pulls me out of my thoughts, and I glance behind me.
A figure steps out of the stairwell, cloaked in shadows. My heart skips a beat when I recognize who it is, standing there, breathless. Even in the darkness, his frame is unmistakable.
Milan.
He’s here.
Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, leaving a faint sheen on his face. His eyes dart frantically across the rooftop, searching for something – or someone.
When his gaze lands on me, sitting at the edge, I see the immediate shift in his expression. The color drains from his face, replaced by a look of pure terror.
He takes a faltering step forward, then freezes like the sight of me has rooted him to the spot.
“What are you doing here, Milan?” I ask, my voice calm.
“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” His eyes scan over me, taking in my trembling body under the biting winter air.
It’s been so long since he’s called me sweetheart , and the familiar word stirs a wave of nostalgic longing deep inside me.
He steps closer again, reaching out as if to touch me but hesitating. “You’re shivering. You’ll catch a cold. Please, come down from there, sweetheart.”
The unfamiliar plea in his voice hits a nerve, making my heart race. Part of me wants to leap into his arms, to bury myself in his warmth. But another part warns me to stay here, whispering the lies that still stand between us.
I hurt him.
I look at the drop below me, then back at him.
The moon casts its silvery glow over his face, highlighting the worry etched into his features.
The gap between us feels deeper and wider than the one beneath me, but the thought of crossing it is both terrifying and tempting.
“Go away, Milan. You shouldn’t be here.”
Milan stands his ground, his hand still hanging in the air. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I can see his breathing quicken, but he shakes his head reflexively and takes another step toward me.
“Please, sweetheart,” he says, his words stifled. “Just come to me. You don’t have to say anything. I just need to know you’re safe.”
The rawness in his voice cuts through me, wearing down my defenses. The pain and fear in his eyes are tangible.
I’ve never seen him like this before.
I glance down at my bloodied hands and the scarred fingertips, a reminder of the self-destruction I inflicted to cope with the inner pain.
“I can’t, Milan.”
His eyes widen for a moment, as if my words hit him like a slap. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You can’t-”
He trails off, his chest rising and falling rapidly, panic flashing across his face. His eyes dart to the edge beneath me, and he shakes his head in a frantic motion. “Don’t … do this to me, Aliya. Not you too. I can’t lose you.”
Milan’s body shakes uncontrollably, his breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His entire frame is tense, like a coiled spring about to snap. His panicked eyes flicker back and forth, and I can see the sheer terror reflected in them.
And in the middle of Milan’s rising panic and the tension between us, a realization crashes over me like a wave.
He’s afraid of heights.
And yet, he climbed up here.
For me.
He thinks I’m going to jump, that I’ll add myself to the list of loved ones he’s lost.
Just like his mother and brother.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own pain, I haven’t considered how my actions would affect him.
I’m so cruel and ignorant.
“Milan, I …” My voice cracks. “I am broken , Milan. I don’t want to hurt you too.”
I’m a broken person. I’ve probably always been, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.
Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink them away as my fingernails dig deeper into my palm.
If I were normal, loving him wouldn’t be a sin.
“Look at me, baby.” His hand presses against his chest like he’s on the verge of collapsing. “You can yell at me, slap me, hit me, do whatever you need. Hurt me all you want. I can take all the pain.” He holds out his hand to me. “Just come back to me.”
The depth of Milan’s plea pierces my heart, breaking down the walls I’d built around myself. But as his words echo inside me, I feel something else stir – something I haven’t felt in so long.
Hope.
I take his trembling hand, letting go of all my doubts. Milan pulls me into a tight embrace, and we fall to the ground. I collapse against his chest, wrapped in his arms, as he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
His breathing is still heavy and his body shakes against mine as he holds me with a grip so tight it’s almost desperate. With his fingers digging into my skin, he leaves imprints, as though he’s afraid I might slip away from him at any moment.
The December night’s coldness starts to seep into my skin, sending shivers through me. It’s only now, lying in Milan’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body, that I realize how cold it really is.
I burrow deeper into his embrace, craving more of that warmth. And strangely, for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel … safe .
After a while, Milan shifts, sitting up and pulling me with him, so I’m sitting on his lap, pressed against his chest. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders, the fabric draping over me like a blanket. His faint scent lingers on it, sending tingles through my body.
Gently, he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the dried tear stains on my cheeks.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers. “I won’t ask for an explanation. You can talk to me or not, but I’m here. And I’m not letting you go.”
His words seep into my heart like balm to my wounded soul.
“You can’t- … The thought of losing you … I can’t breathe, sweetheart.” His hands tremble as they hold my face. “I can’t function. I-”
His voice cuts off, catching in his throat. Instead, he pulls me even closer, his arms wrapping around me like a shield.
“I’m sorry,” I sob. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Shh.” He rests his chin on my head. “You don’t have to apologize.”
As I cry harder, burying myself deeper into his chest, his fingers comb soothingly through my hair. “Just let it all out, baby.”
In his embrace, time seems to stop. The world around us fades away, blurring into the background. All that exists in this moment is the safety of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat.
“I know you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “The shadows that surround you, the sadness you hide, and the silence that fills the space between your words. I know them. I see the invisible scars you carry, and I understand the unspoken fears that plague you.”
His hands rub calming circles on my back. “Your shadows, your scars, your fears. I want to carry them all with you. I want all of you. Both the light and the darkness.”