Chapter 20
Kaze
We’re home.
The room is silent, except for the soft rise and fall of Khalee’s breathing as she sleeps, curled up below the blankets.
If I could, I would cover her, pull her close to me, warm her up, and protect her from the cold of the night and the pain I know she feels.
After the day we’ve both had, seeing her sleeping feels like a victory, the only real victory of the last few hours.
When we got home, she ran straight to the bathroom and locked herself inside.
I didn’t follow. I could, because I was a ghost again; however, I respected her space.
And I was also mad, so the space was good for both of us.
The music shop had dredged up pieces of my past I wasn’t ready to confront. Memories of that beating, of the stolen package, of pawning my guitar.
And then there was Mark, who pushed every ounce of rage and protectiveness I had to the surface. When he got near her, I could feel her fear and anger radiating through the air like a suffocating fog.
It was unbearable.
But nothing compares to the helplessness that came over me when he touched her and… what he said.
Even now, as she sleeps, the memory of her tears pains me and causes me such agony that I never thought it possible to feel after death.
Neither hunger, nor cold, nor loneliness were as profound and challenging for me as the need I felt to hold her in my arms and the impotence of not being able to do so.
I’ve never felt so powerless in her presence.
I’ve never felt so… hurt.
I don’t remember much about my life, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t a murderer. However, today, God tested me, because I felt like killing that son of a bitch just for breathing the same air as her.
And now, even in sleep, she isn’t at peace.
Her face twitches, her body restless, as if her dreams are replaying the very things she’s trying to escape.
Watching her like this tears me apart.
Am I one of those things?
I move closer, lying down beside her carefully, trying not to disturb her. Her purple-tipped hair is scattered across the pillow, framing her face. She’s curled into herself, her hands clutching the fabric, and the sight of her like this makes my chest ache.
I trace the curves of her face with my phantom fingers, and although I’m not solid, I swear I can feel her warmth.
It’s faint, like a memory of touch, but it’s enough.
Even in her sleep, she reacts, a small sigh escaping her lips, her body relaxing slightly under my presence.
Her body knows me, and the realization fills me with a sensation so warm, so profound, that I can’t name it.
It’s not just longing. It’s something bigger, something that aches in my chest and burns behind my ribs.
And just like that, I’m dragged back into the memories of earlier tonight.
The pain they bring is sharp, but not sharper than the moment I saw her on that rooftop.
The way she collapsed into my arms on the cold concrete felt like deja vu, a moment I’d lived before but couldn’t place.
It wasn’t just a coincidence, was it?
She knew the guitar in the music shop was mine.
The rooftop…I didn’t just remember something about that place.
I’ve felt it.
Like I’ve left my heart there, with her, and it was pumping there to this day.
Am I losing my mind?
“Why are you lying to me, love?” I whisper the words barely audible as they slip past my lips.
My voice trembles with emotion and confusion as I gaze at her sleeping form, which once again reacts to my touch.
I know I won’t get an answer now.
However, I also don’t know how much time I can give her to make her feel comfortable enough to open up to me.
Was I bad to her?
Did I hurt her?
At this point, I’m sure we met.
I also believe that being attached to her is not a coincidence, but she’s so broken… Was it my fault?
Then she stirs, her breathing growing uneven, her face twisting as if caught in a nightmare. A small whimper escapes her lips, and it’s like a knife to my heart.
I can’t touch her, can’t shake her awake.
I’m powerless again.
Except…
A melody comes to mind, faint and familiar, like a whisper from a forgotten dream. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I start to hum.
The tune is soft and lilting, and though I can’t place where I know it from, the notes feel like a part of me, like something I once held dear.
The sound fills the room, wrapping around us like a gentle embrace. Her restless movements begin to slow again, her breathing evening out as the tension in her face fades.
She relaxes, her body sinking deeper into the bed, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. Watching her settle under the sound of my voice makes something inside me swell with relief.
I keep humming, the melody flowing effortlessly, and with each note, I feel a strange pull, as if the song is unraveling pieces of my past.
What are you doing to me, love?
I wonder silently, because after all, I was right, she would be the one to help me remember, because she meant something to me once. Ever since we crossed paths, it’s all I’ve been doing: feeling things, obsessing about her, and piecing together fragments of my past life.
The notes brush against the edges of my memory, their meaning clear even though I can’t recall learning them.
It’s a lullaby, simple and soothing.
Her breathing evens out, becoming steady and calm. Her body relaxes completely, sinking into the peace the melody seems to bring her.
She’s fast asleep now, and yet I can’t look away.
“You’re safe with me,” I whisper against her forehead.
She doesn’t stir, remaining peaceful in her slumber.
“Don’t leave,” she murmurs softly.
My breath catches, and I pull back slightly to see if she’s awake, but her eyes remain closed, her expression serene.
I lean in again, letting her warm breath brush against my face, and when she speaks, her voice is barely audible. “Never again.”
Something deep inside me stirs at her words, and it wakes up again.
Without hesitation, I answer her, my voice low and certain. “Never again.”
And before I know it, darkness envelops me, and for the first time in forever, I fall asleep.