Page 132 of Nocturne

“Seems like it.”

* * *

The most painful thing about leaving Walius isn’t the university, the friends I made or the home I’ve built. It is the knowledge that I’m leaving this. The place where I immersed Ma and Papa. This is the place I’ve always come to whenever I feel lost. This is where they lay to rest, becoming one with the sea I love so much.

I will never feel the breeze caressing my cheeks like Ma’s touch. I will never feel the waves crashing on the rocks like Papa’s voice. I’ll never see the sea animals which appear now and then when I’m in a particularly depressing mood as if Grandpa senses I need to see something cute. I’ve never felt truly alone until now. Until I sit here, grappling with the knowledge that I have to leave and I won’t ever be able to come again.

I try to say goodbye, but my throat tightens, the words trapped behind an ocean of unshed tears. The sea has always been my anchor, my refuge—but leaving it now feels like cutting away the last thread of who I was

I turn when I hear heavy footsteps and watch Zagan walking down the pier, his large feet eating the distance between us quickly. His eyes, like always, are fixed on me, trying to see past the defences I’ve built with a lot of difficulty.

“Two more days,”

I surprise myself by chuckling at his way of opening a conversation. It’s by a demanding reminder that somehow cracks me up slightly.

“I remember,” I nod.

I tap the space beside me on the bench, wanting to talk to him. For some asinine reason, this man here, who looks at me with emotions I don’t think he recognises, feels like a haven. But that is all an illusion.

Zagan sits on the bench, looking out at the sea with me, his rich scent enveloping me in its arms. The weather is perfect. Streams of sunlight break from the clouds, painting the surface of the water like glittering gold. I see a few fishermen take their boats;I hear the distant shouts from the dock market. There is no chill in the air nor an impending forecast of rain.

In a way, it feels like the city is giving me a perfect farewell in its own language.

“I’ve scattered my parents' ashes here. Into the sea.” I say.

Zagan looks at me for a moment and then turns back.

“Papa couldn't bear to leave Ma alone—not even in death.”

At a distance, I see a flock of birds flying into the sky.

“You miss them,” Zagan surprises me with his words.

I didn’t expect him to talk or listen. I just wanted to sit here and, for a moment, feel the sunlight warming my cheeks. For a single moment, I want to pretend that my life isn’t a mess.

“More than anything else.” I smile at him despite the tears gathering in my eyes.

His eyes rove across my face, the impassiveness in his face breaking slightly to give way to something soft. His eyes are softer, too, maybe that is what which transforms his face. They speak, those eyes, in a language all their own, saying more than he allows himself to. And I wish I had the time to learn it and become fluent in their silent dialogue.

“Tell me about them.”

I raise my brows at him, shaking my head.

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Do what?” He asks with a barely decipherable frown.

“Pretend to care. You hate it when people talk too much. Or when they are too close.”

I turn back to face the water, breathing in the gentle evening air. I feel his proximity before I even see him shift, a shadow that leans too close, and then his hand brushes against mine. My breath catches, an involuntary reaction, my skin tingling where he touches. It’s more than just his presence—it’s the weight of him, the pull I can’t escape.

I suck in a deep breath, still not used to being close to this powerful, hauntingly beautiful man. He then turns to face his body on me, giving me his entire focus and speaks the words that are fatal to my heart.

“Not when it’s you.”

Stay still, my heart.

I look at him, blinking, unable to form a coherent response. I didn’t know my mouth was gaping open until his rough fingers touched under my chin to close it. I look away, my cheeks warming with a blush and clear my throat.

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