It wasn’t that long, but I can’t deny I kept him at arm’s length. Not just about my past relationship, but about us. About having something real with him in the beginning. I wanted to remind him—people die. Love doesn’t last. And my heart? It couldn’t take another loss.
Yet, here I am. Because Haydn made it his mission to tear down those walls. To make me fall for him so completely, so madly, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
But now, I just shrug. There’s no point in saying anything else.
Haydn watches me, his expression tense, and then he reaches out, pulling me into his arms with a fierceness that takes my breath away. He wraps me up tightly, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I might disappear. He’s bracing himself for something he can’t control.
“So . . . what if he is alive, Pia?” he whispers, his voice rough.
I shake my head, pressing my face into his chest. “Don’t ask me that. I can’t go there.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze sharp and wounded. “Because you still love him and you?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I cut him off, my voice trembling, trying to hold myself together. “I know you’re trying to make sense of this, to figure out what this means for you, for us, but right now? I can only handle one impossible thing at a time, Haydn.”
The hurt flashes across his face, raw and vulnerable, but he doesn’t back away. Instead, he cups my face with both hands and kisses me, fierce and desperate, like he’s trying to stake his claim, like he’s pouring every fear, every doubt, every ounce of love he has into that kiss. It’s deep, consuming, almost overwhelming, as if he’s afraid this is the last chance he’ll have to make me understand.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breathing ragged, his gaze searching. I can feel the storm inside him, the fear and doubt he’s trying so hard to keep in check. “Sorry, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“I love you,” I say softly I need him to feel it, to believe it. “I. Love. You. That doesn’t change. It’s you and me, Haydn. Okay?”
For a moment, he just looks at me, his eyes flickering with something raw, something vulnerable. Then, without a word, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close until there’s no space left between us. He holds me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away, his grip firm, unyielding, and before I can catch my breath, his mouth is on mine again.
The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t put into words. His hands move up, tangling in my hair, as he presses deeper, pouring everything into me—fear, love, the ache of wanting and needing. It’s a kiss that leaves no room for doubt, a kiss that demands I feel the intensity of his devotion, that I understand just how much he’s afraid of losing me.
I lose myself in him, in the heat and the urgency, my own hands clutching at his shoulders, holding on just as tightly. His lips move against mine, fierce and tender all at once, and I can feel his heart pounding, his breath mingling with mine in a rhythm that feels like it’s anchoring us both.
He draws back slowly, his eyes are dark, intense, his hands still cradling my face like I’m something fragile he’s afraid to lose. We’re both breathing heavily, lost in each other, the world around us blurring into nothing until it’s just him and me, tethered by something deep and unexplainable. Something that feels stronger than fear. Stronger than doubt.
For a heartbeat, I let myself believe. Believe that maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe love really can conquer the cracks and fault lines that run through us. Maybe we’re strong enough to face whatever’s coming.
But belief is a tricky thing. Doubt slithers in like smoke, curling around the edges of that fragile hope, whispering all the worst possibilities. What if this is the thing that finally breaks us? What if this time, after everything, I don’t survive the fallout?
Because there’s something cruel about the idea of forever. It promises so much, makes you believe in something unshakable. But sometimes, forever is just a word. Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, it’s not enough to hold it all together.
I know, because it already happened to me once. I met someone unexpectedly and lost him tragically.
I can’t afford to feel that way again and yet, here I am, hoping for the impossible.
Chapter Eleven
Ophelia
Then. . .
Nothing says “paying your dues” quite like being stuck in the middle seat on a plane. It starts here, squished between a guy whose elbow has claimed the armrest like he’s defending his kingdom, and a woman so absorbed in her self-help book it’s practically a force field.
She clutches it with the kind of intensity that makes you think it’s either the Holy Grail or a forbidden romance novel she doesn’t want to share. Either way, I’m not about to ask. She’s a fortress, and I have no interest in storming the gates.
So, here I am, wedged into the middle of it all, wondering if this is the glamorous life I envisioned when I said yes to this job. Spoiler: it’s not.
Meanwhile, I’m clutching my bag of pretzels like a lifeline, praying I won’t need to squeeze past “King Armrest” anytime soon because he doesn’t look like the type who likes to be inconvenienced. I glance down at the crumpled pretzel bag in my lap, wondering if it might hold some hidden wisdom for navigating this journey. I mean, they say adventure often begins with discomfort, right? Though I’m pretty sure whoever came up with that wasn’t picturing three hours in economy.
But discomfort is a small price to pay right now. I’m on my way to Seattle for an internship interview at Decker Records, the Holy Grail for anyone who’s serious about breaking into the music industry.
They’re looking for someone who can help their roster of brooding artists “go viral” on social media, keep it sleek on Instagram, and add a touch of raw, behind-the-scenes grit on Snapchat. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. If I can survive this flight without accidentally getting roped into a self-help lecture by Ms. Paperback, maybe—just maybe—I have a shot at landing my dream job.
Dream big, they always say, like that’s all it takes. And here I am, reaching for the biggest one of all—a dream that took root way back in kindergarten, sparked by my mom’s words. I still remember her voice, full of that wistful conviction, saying, “You’ll be part of the music business someday, just you wait.” In the early 2000s, “music business marketing” was her magic blend of words, and somehow, it stuck. Now, in my second yearof college, that childhood fascination has grown into a real goal just within reach.
