Chapter 31 #2
Until the sudden blare of a bell shattered everything.
A woman’s voice followed soon after, spilling into the room from the panel where Zioh had turned on the light earlier.
“Zioh?” A woman called out.
The bell chimed again. And again. Relentless.
“Sir...?!” The voice grew more urgent, impatient. It was Natasha. “Hello? Zioh! I’ve brought the clothes you requested!” She was practically shouting now, muttering complaints as though shivering in the cold.
Zioh and I locked eyes. We were still tangled together, breathless, our bodies burning.
He exhaled, frustration tightening his features. I could feel my heart pounding like it wanted out.
“Zioh! For fuck’s sake! I’m bloody soaked and freezing out here!” Natasha’s sharp voice cut through again, her irritation obvious to anyone listening.
Zioh let out a long, heavy breath. “I’ll go out first,” he said, his gaze lingering on me, waiting for my answer, and I nodded.
“Natasha’s brought clothes for you. You can get dressed,” he murmured. When I nodded again, his eyes softened as he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
The moment he was gone, my body gave way. I stumbled, collapsing to the wet floor, my palm clutching my chest. “Ohh...hh…”
? ── * ── ?
Once I’d finished dressing in the clothes Zioh had left outside the door, I stepped out. The outfit was soft and warm: a long knitted pink jumper and loose pants.
As I left the bathroom, my eyes swept his room. I glanced around, searching for him, but the luxurious space held no one. Until faintly, a low voice drifted from outside.
Drawn to it, I opened the door and slipped out.
The hallway led me to the living space at the corner of the floor. There he was, Zioh, now changed into black pajamas, his frame stretched across a long, plush sofa. He faced the wide television, and the window beside it stood open, revealing the cityscape glittering like a jewel box.
Noticing me, he turned his head, then patted the space next to him. “Come,” he called. “I’ve got hot chocolate for you.”
A small smile tugged at me. I walked closer, his calm presence so different from the fiery man I’d faced hours ago in the park or the past few weeks.
Now he seemed to be in a dominant white-gray phase.
But… still, I kept twisting my fingers until they hurt. I couldn’t stop thinking about when his dominant black phase would return. When would he strike again, hurting me all over?
My heartbeat quickened at the thought.
Yet, even with that, I met his gaze, mirroring his softness, and my breath began to steady again.
He adjusted the cushions and blanket before I sat beside him. Once I settled, he draped the blanket over my legs, then handed me the steaming mug of hot chocolate. “Thanks.” In his hands, a cup of tea still sent up curls of steam.
Silent.
We looked out through the vast window, where Jakarta’s city lights sparkled like a painted masterpiece. Towers gleamed in gold, white, and amber. I was hypnotized, curled up on the soft sofa, and wrapped in a thick blanket.
It was peaceful.
So peaceful I might have drifted off—if not for the low voice beside me pulling me back. “Thank you... and I’m sorry, Tshabina.” His husky murmur brought my head turning towards him, and my eyes found him.
“For what?” I asked.
“For coming,” he searched my gaze, “for being here, in the middle of the night.” He paused, and a flicker came in his eyes. “And I’m sorry… for all the things that weren’t pleasing you.” His tone was so soft, and I almost wished it would stay that way forever.
I turned his words over carefully.
Not pleasing?
Was he speaking about what we had just done? Or everything else—everything he had put me through before?
He had done many things that weren’t pleasing to me. Yet earlier… Wasn’t it clear that I had wanted it too? That I’d needed it?
A thousand thoughts pressed at me, but I only gave him a small smile, nodding. I looked at the vast window again. Because right now, it was his turn to speak, not mine.
But when he stayed silent too long, I drew him out.
“I almost did it,” I paused, then turned back to him. He was still watching me. “I almost hated you, too.” A faint smile pulled at my lips. “I even made a mission with Andi.”
His brow lifted, though he said nothing.
“Twenty-five ways to forget you, Zi.” I shrugged, amused at the memory of our ridiculous plan. “Just a few hours ago, I was reading the third one right before you called me.” I caught his gaze, steady. “But see? Who would’ve thought I’d end up here again?” And doing what we just did…”
Zioh let out a slight laugh, exhaling through his nose. I frowned, slightly annoyed. Oh, come on. My words had come from the deepest part of me.
When his laughter died, he looked at me again, but this time his gaze deepened. “As you should.” His voice lowered. “Maybe it’s for your own good, Tshabina…” He released a painful breath. “I’m not him anymore.”
His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “It’s all for your sake, baby.”
The words landed heavy, steeped in sorrow. No hatred, no anger. Just… pain.
It tore straight through me.
“You can say that after everything we just did?”
All of these pushes and pulls left me feeling empty, as if my mind had burned through all its fuel. I wanted to get off this roller coaster, never knew when it would rise or when it would plummet—never knew when he’d turn white, when he’d turn black.
“Tshabina—”
“Zioh,” I cut, locking my eyes on his. “I just hope when you’re ready, you’ll talk to me.” My voice dropped deeper. “I’ll wait, Zi.”
I held his gaze, willing him to hear me. “It’s not about me being desperate or anything.” I shook my head. “Not for you but for me, Zioh. For myself.”
My voice grew stronger, even as my heart thudded with ache in my chest. “Because I deserve an explanation.” I clenched the mug in my hand.
“For the girl I was then, and for the woman I am now.” I placed the mug on the coffee table and tilted myself toward him.
“After hearing your reasons and truth, I deserve to decide what comes next for me.”
My breath shivered out. “So, I’ll wait. But I’m also human, Zi.” I paused. “I have feelings. There’ll come a time when I’m tired and’ve had enough.” I locked my eyes with him. “So don’t waste it before that happens.”
Finally, I exhaled long and slow. At last, I’d said it.
His gaze softened; it felt as if I were staring at my Zioh from the past. Warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through my body, stinging behind my eyes. “But it feels as if it’s either you or me… we’re tied to each other.”
A small laugh escaped me. “We both try to run, to avoid, to let go.” I took a moment. “We’ve tried to erase each other.”
He reached for my hand, his thumb stroking my skin in a calming motion, yet somehow it made my eyes grow hotter. “But here we are again.” He brushed his fingers over my eyes with his free hand. “It’s as if a hidden string binds you and me.”
His voice cracked. “I hurt you—”
I nodded, agreeing. You did. A bad one. “Judging by the way you hated me, I can tell I hurt you too,” I whispered, my shoulders lifting faintly. “There’s no way you would have changed in one night without a reason.” I let out a shaky breath. “Maybe I hurt you too, in ways I didn’t realize.”
I swallowed the tight knot in my throat, and the words that came next carried the pain I’d buried for so long, leaving my voice shaking and rough. “I always believed you’d never leave me, especially after that night, remember?”
Zioh shook his head. A slow redness crept into his eyes. “No, not t-that, baby, I-I…” His throat strained as though something heavy was stuck there, choking him silent.
That night. On my seventeenth birthday. Before Zioh and Zeraiah left that day, Zioh and I had made memories that refused to fade, no matter how badly I wanted them gone.
The night wind made me shiver, my hair whipping around my face.
I swayed back and forth, laughter and tears echoing in the air.
“Only for you,” Zioh said. “Only you.” The memory came rushing back, vivid as something before my eyes.
A beauty he created, just before leaving for the UK to see his ailing mother.
A silence stretched between us.
I watched him, and he shook his head. His hand curled into fists, clutching the blanket tight, and his breath was coming faster.
I finally broke the silence, not wanting our warmth to disappear again. My eyes shifted to the television ahead. “I’m not sleepy yet. Shall we watch something?”
Zioh blinked, then turned back to me. He gave me a slow nod.
He stood, reached for the remote on the coffee table, and handed it to me with a small gesture, inviting me to choose. I flicked through the channels, aware of his gaze on me, until a title finally flickered on the screen. My heart thumped.
I turned to him, excitement breaking through. “How about we watch Harry Potter?”
A quiet laugh slipped from him, making me frown in confusion. “You’ve watched the Harry Potter series 287 times, Tshabina,” he said.
I blinked. Once. Twice. “Hah?”
I used to love Harry Potter. Not just me, but Tsabinu too. We’d rewatch the series anytime, anywhere. It had been our comfort film.
But how did Zioh have that exact number?
“You’ve watched all eight films 287 times,” he repeated, still watching me. His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “At least that was the count ten years ago. By now it’s probably doubled, isn’t it?”
Oh… my God.
He…
“You… counted?” I asked, almost breathless.
Zioh nodded. “Every time you watched, I counted.”
“Why?”
“You smiled.” He paused. “Every single time you watched them.” He lifted his hand, stroking my cheek with a gentle touch. “You smiled so wide.”
Heat flared across my cheeks, a flutter stirring in my stomach. I gripped the blanket, forcing my gaze back to the TV, terrified he might see the flush of my face.
Clearing my throat, I muttered, “It won’t be double, I prefer watching Asian series these days.” Half-burying my face in the blanket, I tried to hide the awkward smile tugging at my lips.
Zioh hummed, and in the corner of my eye, his lips quirked faintly. “Ah, my mistake.”
For a while, silence settled again. But when I glanced sideways, his eyes were fixed on my wrist.
The bracelet.
His gaze didn’t waver. It lingered, sharp and heavy, fixed on my wrist.
I followed his eyes and lifted my arm, unsure if I should. “This bracelet’s from Zeraiah,” I explained. “We met not long ago, and he gave it to me. He said it was a gift he’d never had the chance to give back then.”
Zioh’s stare didn’t soften. He kept looking at the bracelet on my hand, and in this moment, my chest tightened as a familiar pain gathered inside it.
This hand… once belonged to him.
For years, it had been his. I had worn his bracelet for five years after he vanished. Only then had I taken it off.
I opened my mouth, about to say something, anything—
But then I noticed something strange. Zioh let out a harsh breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head hard. His hands trembled.
Worry surged through me. I was about to reach for him, but he shot to his feet. “I’ll grab us drinks and snacks,” he muttered, and without another glance, he headed for the stairs, disappearing down to the floor below.
I was about to follow him and walk toward the stairs, but I stopped when, from up here, I could see him standing rigid in the kitchen below. His hand shook as he popped something small into his mouth, swallowing quickly. A… pill?
My instinct screamed to run down, to ask him what was wrong. But before I could move, the buzzing of my phone, vibrating, pulled me back.
I turned, walking back to the sofa, and grabbed my phone from there. My brows knitted the moment I caught sight of it. Dozens of missed calls from Andi, nearly thirty minutes ago.
Of course, I hadn’t heard. The world had disappeared when I was with Zioh.
Then I opened his messages, and air caught in my throat.
Andi: YOU PMO! This is an emergency! Answer my call like right now!