Chapter 28
Khalee
The next few days pass in a flash.
Time’s funny like that, slow when it hurts, fast when it matters. And this, whatever this is between us, it matters even if it’s different, fragile, and temporary. Maybe mainly because of that.
There’s this strange kind of honeymoon atmosphere around us now.
Like we’ve slipped into a bubble outside of the rest of the world.
It’s not perfect, not even close. Kaze isn’t always here, not physically.
Sometimes he fades without warning, like he’s being pulled beyond the veil because death still has a claim on him.
But when he is solid, we hold on.
We take what we can get. Touches, glances, soft conversations in bed. We kiss and explore ourselves like we’re making up for all the time we lost and like we know we’re running out of it again.
In between those moments, we also try to make sense of what we know, to pull at the threads of Kaze’s past and find something solid in them that helps us find his closure. But nothing is enough because he still doesn’t remember it, and I don’t know enough.
We’re both trying, but I must admit that we’re putting it off more than we should.
I tell myself it’s because nothing new has come up. But the truth? We are both scared.
Scared that whatever we find will be the end of this strange little cocoon we’ve carved out for ourselves, scared that figuring it all out means losing each other again, this time for good.
And as selfish as it sounds, I’m not ready for that. And neither is he.
Neither of us says it out loud, but we both feel it, the edges of something closing in. The quiet understanding that this… isn’t sustainable. A ghost and his human girl, playing house between two worlds. It’s not a life. It’s just a miracle. And even those have an expiry date.
A couple of days ago, the owner of the music store called.
None of us was expecting it, but the poor guy really made an effort trying to help us, although he couldn’t because my ghost, whoever he’d been to the world before, remained unnamed for this guy, his only story lingering in the guitar now on my wall.
Yeah, I decided to get it.
Not because I thought it would give us answers, although part of me hoped it would. But mostly, I couldn’t stand the thought of it just staying at the store.
Abandoned.
That guitar was his. As much as he is mine, so it only made sense to keep it.
The old guy really tried to convince me to let him keep his promise, and I value it more than words can express; however, I told him how much Kaze meant to me one day, and in this case, our tragic love story worked in our favor.
It may seem ridiculous, but I think I was more honest with that man than I was with everyone else around me, and it was… freeing.
Kaze came with me, of course.
Well, the version of him that could.
And the look on his face when he saw his guitar in my hands… I’ll never forget it.
There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. A quiet, aching kind of peace. Like another piece of himself had finally found its way home, too.
I didn’t say much. He didn’t either. We didn’t need to.
Some things don’t need words.
Now it’s late afternoon, the light tilting golden through the windows, and like we’ve done for the past few days, we’re curled up on my couch. This time with pizza boxes balanced precariously on our legs, grease-stained napkins scattered around us, and the scent of garlic in the air.
He’s solid today, his form steady enough to press against mine, his warmth faint but there, just enough to fool me into thinking this is normal.
“I vote Tangled, ” I say, reaching for another slice of pizza.
Kaze groans. “No more movies like that. We’ve been on a Disney marathon for three days.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s emotional damage, that’s what it is.” He shifts closer, stealing the crust from my slice without a shred of shame. “Yesterday, you made me watch Lady and the Tramp. You know how weird it is to be a ghost watching dogs fall in love over spaghetti?”
I laugh, complete and unfiltered.
“Shut up. You liked it.”
“I tolerated it.”
“You teared up.”
“The ramen was too spicy.”
“We weren’t even eating ramen.”
“Yes, we were.”
“No, we weren’t. That was the day before, when you also let loose some tears watching Beauty and the Beast.”
He groans and throws his head back dramatically. “Okay, first of all, he thought she wasn’t coming back. He literally let her go because he loved her.”
I blink at him, trying not to smile.
“That’s peak tragic romance, ” he continues, now gesturing like he’s defending himself in a courtroom. “She’s riding off into the forest, he’s standing there all beastly and heartbroken, and the petals are dropping from the rose like emotional time bombs. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there?”
I snort. “You did sit there. In a ghost’s sulk. Floating two inches above the couch.”
“Exactly! I was trying to contain my feelings.”
“By muttering ‘this is fine’ at the screen with watery eyes, non-stop?”
“Oh, and what about you?” he shoots back, eyes narrowed in playful accusation. “You cried during Aladdin. What was even sad about Aladdin, for fuck’s sake?”
I gasp. “Excuse me?”
He crosses his arms, smug. “Yeah. Tell me. Can’t wait to hear it!”
I sit up straighter, indignant. “First of all, don’t even talk to me about the scene where Aladdin tells Genie he’s free. And Aladdin, who could’ve used his last wish to keep the life he thought he needed, he lets him go. Willingly. That is growth. That is a sacrifice. That is pain.”
He squints at me, unimpressed. “It’s a floating blue man in gold cuffs.”
“It’s a floating blue man who’s been enslaved for ten thousand years, and his best friend gives him freedom. That’s not just sad, that’s beautiful. That’s love in action.”
He stares at me, deadpan. “You scare me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t start with me, you asshole. You were mumbling ‘A Whole New World’ all morning. I heard you.”
“It sticks, ” he mutters, looking away.
“It sticks because you loved it.”
“I did not love it.”
“You sang it, Kaze.”
“I mouthed it. There’s a difference.”
“Pretty sure Cosmos started meowing when you hit the high notes.”
“Okay, rude. First of all, I was harmonizing. And second, the acoustics in your kitchen are trash.”
I grin. “You’re deflecting.”
He tries to look serious, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re lucky I’m dead or I’d walk out of this room right now.”
“You can float through walls. Try harder.” I laugh, unable to contain myself, and he returns it with a laugh of his own, shaking his head like he can’t believe we’re actually having this argument, but we are, and I’m winning.
“Tangled it is, then, ” I declare, grabbing the remote and clicking play like I haven’t just emotionally outsmarted him.
He lets out an exaggerated sigh but doesn’t move. Just sinks back into the couch beside me, his arm brushing mine, solid enough for now.
And even though he pretends to be above it, I catch the way he settles in a little closer when the movie starts.
He’s not fooling anyone. Not me, anyway.
He feels deeply, his heart is tender, his soul open, and that’s exactly what I cherish most about him. I wouldn’t have him any other way.
The Disney castle intro lights up the screen, the music swelling, and that’s when my phone starts ringing.
We both freeze.
It takes me a second to even recognize the sound. I can’t remember the last time I used my phone; it was probably days ago, maybe? Everything outside this weird little time bubble we’ve been living in has felt so far away, so irrelevant.
I groan and start scrambling through the mess that is currently my living room, discarded blankets, empty mugs, napkins, and the pizza boxes still half open.
“Where even is it?” I mutter, following the sound like it’s playing hide and seek.
Kaze watches with mild amusement, but I shoot him a quick glare as I stumble over a pair of socks that are definitely mine.
Eventually, I end up tracing the ringtone to the kitchen, where the phone is buzzing across the counter.
Mada.
My chest tightens.
I glance back toward the living room and quickly signal Kaze to keep quiet. He catches the seriousness in my expression instantly and nods.
I don’t know how much Mada can hear. I still don’t understand how this whole ghost-becomes-human reality works, what bleeds through the veil and what doesn’t.
So I answer without thinking it through.
“Hey. What’s up?”
Her voice cracks through the speaker, thick with tears, and my breath stalls in my lungs immediately.
“Khalee… can you come get me?”
I freeze, her tone alone pulling me straight back to somewhere I don’t want to be. Somewhere five years ago.
I straighten up, heart pounding. “Mada? What’s going on?”
She’s crying. Panicked. Her breathing’s uneven, too fast, too shallow.
“Please, ” she says, voice breaking. “Just… please come. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Where are you?”
Flashbacks crash over me in a wave, the past dragging itself forward like it never left.
Mada is lying motionless on a bed.
Mada unresponsive.
Mada is not reacting at all.
Now her voice is not different, it’s still disoriented, like she doesn’t fully know where she is or what she’s saying.
“I’m… I’m gonna send you the location. Please hurry.”
“Send it, ” I say, already turning back toward the hallway, toward my shoes, toward the door. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
She hangs up, and a second later, the location pings through.
I’m already moving, grabbing whatever I can: phone, keys, jacket. Everything else can wait.
My sister can’t.
I’m halfway through yanking my boots on, adrenaline buzzing under my skin, when Kaze appears in front of the door.
“Whoa, whoa, stop.” His hand comes up instinctively, halting me.
“I have to get Mada, ” I say, breathless, entirely on autopilot now, already moving to sidestep him.
He grabs my arm, gently, but firm enough to make me pause. “What’s going on?”
And I do pause. Just long enough to get the words out. The call. Her voice. How off she sounded—the location she sent me.
His expression shifts the second I finish. That calm, playful energy he usually carries is gone, replaced by something sharp and serious.
“No way, love. You’re not going. Not by yourself, ” he says, voice low but steady. “Call your parents.”
I blink at him, confused, heart pounding. “What? No, there’s no time.”
“I’m serious, ” he cuts in, stepping closer.
His form flickers, barely, but I feel the heat of him there.
“It was already hell standing by your side once, not being able to do anything. And now she sounds like she’s lost to whatever she took again?
You don’t know what you’re walking into.
I’m not letting you go into that alone. Call them. ”
“I can’t just wait around, ” I snap, panic spiking in my chest. “If I don’t go now, ”
“They need to know, ” he says, firmer now. “They need to be there for you and her. She’s spiraling, and you know it.”
“I can handle this, ” I insist, even though I already feel like I’m unraveling.
He steps in even closer, his voice quieter now, but every word hits like a direct shot to the chest.
“If she’s like last time, that altered, Khalee… there’s nothing I can do to protect you. You know that, love.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I don’t care, that I’ll figure it out, but he stops me.
“Please, ” he says. “Please don’t make me watch this happen again, knowing I can’t step in. Don’t put me in that position. Not again.”
His voice cracks on the last word. And it guts me.
Because he’s not trying to control me, he’s trying to protect me from a memory we both still bleed from. And from my past. The past he still doesn’t know about.
Fuck. He’s right.
This is too close to last time. And if I go alone again, if I make the same choice I did five years ago, I’m not just putting myself at risk, I’m doing the same mistakes.
I’ve spent so long trying to hold everything together on my own. Carrying it all because I thought I had to.
But maybe this is where I start doing things differently. This may be where I stop writing the same story twice.
I nod, slow but sure, even though everything in me still wants to bolt out the door.
“Okay, ” I whisper. “I’ll call them.”
And the moment I say it, I see it in his face, the weight of fear easing, just slightly.
And I feel it too.
Like I’m finally giving myself permission to stop doing things the hard way.