Chapter 22 #2
“But then he just… disappeared.”
The room feels smaller suddenly, suffocating under the weight of those words.
She doesn’t rush to respond. She doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay or that everything happens for a reason.
She just lets me breathe through it.
Let the silence settle until I feel steady enough to continue.
“One night, he was there. And the next, he was gone.”
I tighten my grip around my own hands.
“No goodbye. No explanation. Just… gone.”
My voice wavers, but I push forward.
“I searched, Mom. I tried everything. But it was like he never existed.”
The confession sits between us, thick with loss, with frustration, with something deeper that I still don’t know how to name.
I take a breath that doesn’t reach my lungs.
“And then… I lost myself to the chaos around me.”
I close my eyes for just a second, steadying myself against the weight of my own words.
“And after that… well, you already know.”
She presses her lips together, eyes shimmering with unspoken sorrow.
“After that, you decided to leave too.”
I shake my head, the frustration creeping in, wrapping around the grief that never really left.
“You don’t understand.” My voice wavers, but I push forward, needing her to hear this.
“That night before he disappeared… it was the only night we had. The only time we were real, outside of a screen, outside of words.”
I feel my throat tighten, the memory of that night pressing into my ribs.
“And then it was ripped away. I lost him before I even got to have him.”
I don’t mean to let so much slip, but the truth is restless, clawing its way out of me. I see the way my mother watches me, her fingers twitching like she wants to reach for me, but she doesn’t.
“And just after, my life changed completely. Not just because of him but…”
I stop.
I consider telling her everything. But then I see it, the heartbreak already deepening in her gaze, the worry threading through the lines on her face.
I can’t.
Instead, I swallow the words, letting them dissolve on my tongue like they always do.
“I had to start anew, Mom. I had to, because if I stayed here, I knew I wouldn’t get out of the well of pain I let myself fall into.”
She exhales sharply, squeezing my hand as if trying to tether me back to her, to this moment.
“So being here is doing that to you again, baby?” Her voice wobbles just slightly, but she doesn’t let go. “Do you need to leave?”
Yes. Yes, I do. But I can’t.
Not yet.
I don’t tell her that.
Instead, I hesitate, and when I speak again, my voice is quieter, but heavier.
“That’s the part I don’t think you’ll believe, Mom.”
Her grip tightens slightly, her concern settling deeper into her features.
“Try me,” she says again, firmer this time.
I take a shaky breath, my chest aching with the weight of what I’m about to say.
“Kaze is back, Mom.”
She blinks. Confusion flickers across her face, but it’s not rejection, not yet.
“Back? After all this time?”
“Yes.”
The truth feels too big, too impossible, but I say it anyway.
“But… he’s not alive.”
She jerks back, her fingers slipping from mine as if my words physically burned her.
Then, she makes the sign of the cross over her chest, lips parting, but no sound comes out.
Her eyes widen, darting across my face like she’s searching for an explanation that makes sense, some proof that I’m delirious, that this is just a cruel, feverish dream.
But she finds nothing.
Because this is real.
And she has no idea what to do with that.
“Jesus Christ…” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “God protect us. Do not say such things, child. Do not even think of them.”
My throat tightens, my hands trembling at my sides.
“I wish it wasn’t true, Mom.” My voice breaks, fragile, raw, aching. “But it is. He’s here. I see him, I feel him. I hear him whisper my name when no one else is around. He’s real, but he shouldn’t be.”
Her breath turns fast and shallow, her fingers reaching for the rosary she always keeps near, knuckles turning white as she clutches it between her hands.
“Holy Mother…” she murmurs, closing her eyes in silent prayer. “Are you certain? Are you absolutely certain it’s him and not…” She swallows thickly, her voice wavering, as if afraid of her own words. “Not something else?”
Something darker. Something unholy.
Or maybe just her fear that I’ve lost it completely.
I shake my head fiercely.
“It’s him, Mom. It’s Kaze. He’s not… evil. And I’m not sick. Trust me, I thought exactly the same thing when I saw him for the first time. I know how this sounds, but I swear, it’s him.”
She looks at me like she wants to believe me, but doesn’t know how.
I take a deep breath and tell her everything.
About Kaze. About the memory loss. About how I’ve been helping him.
By the time I finish, she grips my hands in hers, cold, trembling fingers pressing into mine.
“My God…” Her voice is barely audible. “This is not natural, Khalee. It is not of God. If he is here, if you truly see him, then it is not a blessing. It is a test. It is…”
She falters, fear creeping into her voice, but before she can finish, I gently pull my hands away.
I exhale shakily. “Mom… I know you think that because of your faith, but this, this is different. You know, I don’t see things the way you do.”
Her expression twists, like she wants to argue, but instead, she closes her eyes briefly, composing herself.
“I know, dear. I know.” She sighs, voice soft, but heavy. “And we always tried to support you and understand you, Khalee, but… this is not tarot or astrology. This is… I don’t even know what this is.”
She watches me, torn between fear and the unconditional love she always gives so freely.
I see it in her eyes, the silent battle between faith and the desperate need to trust her daughter.
Finally, after what feels like forever, she speaks.
“I don’t understand your world, my love,” she says gently. “But I understand you. And if you say he is here, if you truly believe that, then I will not dismiss it. But I am afraid. Not because I think you are lying, but because I do not know how to protect you from something I do not understand.”
She squeezes my hand. “So please, tell me what you need me to do, and it will be done.”
A sob rises in my throat, and before I can stop it, the tears spill over again, slipping down my cheeks.
My body trembles, the truth I’ve been avoiding finally breaking free.
“I can’t lose him again, Mom.” My voice shatters. “But I know I have to let him go.”
She exhales sharply, her own tears glistening in the dim light.
“Then we will find a way together.”
She lifts the rosary to her lips for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You must pray, and I… I will try to understand. God is going to help us, I’m sure.”
“And until then?”
She sighs. “Until then, enjoy him, baby girl. After all… some miracles don’t come with flashing lights or grand signs.
Sometimes, they arrive quietly, slipping into our lives like whispers on the wind.
And if God has allowed this, if He has given you this time with him, then perhaps it is not a curse, but a gift.
A miracle you didn’t even know you were worthy of. ”
I nod, but deep down, I know the truth.
This isn’t something prayers can fix, but at least this time, my mother’s love may help, and maybe, after all, she’s right.