Chapter 15 #3
The artwork depicts two cats curled together in a heart-like shape, their tails entwined.
One is a golden tabby with bright, curious eyes, and the other is a sleek black cat with a gaze that feels both intense and protective.
Above them, a celestial cat, a shimmering, ethereal figure, hovers with outstretched wings, as though blessing their union.
The background is a lush garden filled with blooming flowers and gentle streams.
“What does that mean?” I manage to ask, my voice breaking the silence.
There’s something about the way she’s reacting that makes me think this card is… different, and that she wasn’t also expecting it.
Her fingers tremble slightly as she tries to pick it up and slide it back into the deck, but I reach forward, unable to touch her but hoping to stop her. “Khalee, what does it mean?” I press, needing to know.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking between the card and me, and I can see the nervousness in her face.
It’s like she’s deciding how much to tell me, and that pisses me off.
“It’s The Lovers,” she finally says, her voice quieter than before. “It’s about relationships, connections… and choices.”
“Relationships?” I echo, my mind racing and my phantom heart beating strangely.
“Yeah,” she nods. “It’s about deep connections and the decisions that come with them. It’s… significant for love and commitment.”
I see her discomfort, the way she’s trying to play it down, but the weight of her words lingers between us.
“What does it mean?” I insist, and I can see the surprise and worry in her eyes. The question hangs heavily between us. I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer, but the uncertainty is overwhelming.
Khalee looks at me, her eyes reflecting a profound sadness, a vulnerability that tugs at my heart. “I… I think maybe we should look for someone you loved. A wife, girlfriend… someone important,” she says softly, her voice trembling.
“I don’t think I had anyone like that,” I reply quickly, trying to hide my frustration. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, they feel wrong.
A lie, or at least something close to it, sits heavy in my chest.
Her expression shifts, her eyes clouding with disappointment.
The sadness deepens, and it hits me like a blow.
My gut twists as I realize my answer, whatever it is, will hurt her somehow. She tilts her head slightly, studying me, and for a moment, it feels like she’s about to say something.
Instead, she lowers her gaze, her voice soft but firm. “There’s a lot you don’t remember, Kaze. Maybe there’s someone out there who’s been waiting for you, suffering because of you, missing you. If there is, we need to find a way for you to remember her.”
Her words are calm, but I can feel the hurt lingering beneath them.
I watch as she begins to gather the cards, her movements hurried, almost mechanical. The tension between us is palpable, and my mind races.
Why does her suggestion feel like a betrayal?
Why does the thought of someone else feel so wrong?
“I’m telling you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the discomfort swirling inside me, “If I had loved someone deeply, I would remember.”
She looks back at me, her face a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’re an adult man. And you are… handsome.” Her words come out sharply, almost biting, her temper clearly fraying. “You had someone.”
“Well…” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m glad to know you find me attractive, love. But trust me, from what I remember, I was a mess. I don’t think anyone would’ve wanted me like that.”
“Someone did,” she insists.
“You don’t know that,” I reply, stepping closer. I reach out instinctively, though I can’t touch her.
My hand hovers just above her face, as if brushing away a stray lock of her black-purple hair.
“Wanna know what I think?” I murmur, my voice low and deliberate.
Her breath catches, and I notice the way her body tenses slightly.
Our faces are close now, and I can feel the warmth of her presence, even though the veil of reality separates us
She swallows hard, her lips parting as though she’s about to speak, but no words come out.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I continue, “I think you know as much as I do that the card is speaking about the connection we have, or… about a choice we’ll have to make.” And I don’t know how I find the courage to say it.
But I do.
I lean closer, moving to her other ear, the tension between us electric.
I don’t know what I’m doing, or maybe I do because there’s this need to reassure her and the fear of losing whatever this is.
“I think that card speaks about no one other than us, love. And I’m starting to hope that if there was someone I had loved in life, that person should’ve been you.
Since that’s not possible, because you remember all your life and don’t know me, I’m also sure there was no one else worth loving in my previous life, otherwise, I would remember her. ”
Her breath hitches, and I sense her heartbeat quickening.
The reaction sends a pang of longing through me, a reminder of what I can never have. If only I could feel her, kiss her, anything to bridge the distance that separates us.
The energy between us crackles, and the room feels smaller.
She closes her eyes for a moment, as if trying to steady herself.
“Why would you say that?” she murmurs, her voice trembling as she tries to compose herself.
“Because you feel like love is supposed to feel,” I say without hesitation. “Patient, kind, understanding, and… steady, like it’s always been there.”
And as soon as the words are out of my mouth, the sense of familiarity I had with the motorcycle with her rushes back into me.
It’s not just a feeling anymore.
It’s a truth that lingers in the space between us, unspoken but undeniable.
But as the realization unfolds, confusion creeps in.
This isn’t just a random feeling; it’s something deeper, something that defies explanation.
It’s as though I’ve known her far longer than I should, as if she’s a part of me I’ve forgotten but never truly lost.
If that’s true, why wouldn’t she tell me?
The thought nags at me, unsettling.
She knows something, something she isn’t saying.
And the sadness in her eyes, the way she hesitates every time I get too close to the truth, only confirms it.
Why is she holding back? What is she so afraid of?
I want to ask her, to demand answers, but the vulnerability in her expression stops me.
If I push too hard, I’ll hurt her, and that’s the last thing I want.
Instead, I step closer, unable to once again resist the pull toward her, and my lips hover near hers, a breath apart.
For a moment, the world seems to still. She takes a deep breath, and when she opens her eyes, the sadness in them is unmistakable.
It guts me, but the need to be closer to her overrides everything else.
I let my lips linger near hers, not daring to move further, yet yearning to close the space between us.
Then, something shifts.
A spark ignites in the air between us, a soft, electric warmth that spreads through me, and suddenly I feel it, her warmth, her softness.
It’s impossible, but it’s there.
The sensation is unlike anything I’ve experienced in this strange existence.
Tingling, grounding, pulling me back to something real.
My feet, which always feel weightless, touch the ground. Not just touch, press into it, firmly and steadily.
My fingers, as if acting on instinct, brush her cheek.
And for the first time, I feel it, the smooth, warm texture of her skin beneath my touch.
Before I’m able to stop, I give up, and my lips find hers and it’s not like I imagined; it’s more.
Her breath mingles with mine, and for a brief, impossibly beautiful moment, I feel whole.
My hand cradles her cheek, my thumb brushing against her skin as if memorizing the curve of her face.
The kiss deepens, and the tingling spreads through my entire being.
I can feel her, truly feel her, as though the boundaries of life and death no longer exist.
The impossible has become palpable, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else matters besides having her.
Then she pulls back, and the absence of her skin on mine, of her lips on mine, leaves me cold.
Her breath is ragged, her eyes wide with tears that threaten to spill over. She takes a step back, creating a crater between us that feels bleaker and emptier than I ever thought possible.
“You can’t do this to me,” she says, her voice trembling as a tear slides down her cheek. “You can’t just…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the pain in her eyes says everything she can’t.
I stand there, frozen, the warmth of her kiss still lingering on my lips.
A sharp, piercing regret replaces the joy I felt just moments ago.
“Khalee, I…” I start, but the words die in my throat.
What can I say?
That I didn’t mean to upset her?
That I couldn’t help myself?
Both are true.
But say that I’m sorry? That’s something I can’t do.
She shakes her head, backing away further. “I can’t… I just can’t,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
Her tears fall freely now, and the sight of her pain cuts me deep.
I want to reach out to her, to comfort her, but I don’t.
I can’t.
The distance she’s put between us feels impenetrable, and I know I’m the one who created it.
I want to say something, but whatever words I choose feel meaningless, empty in the face of her sadness.
She also doesn’t say anything.
Instead, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there with the echo of her words, the memory of her tears, and the taste of her lips.