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No.
Just...no.
I wouldn’t let that happen, and the only power I had over not allowing my body to forsake me was picking the time for me to forsake it.
Standing stiffly from the weathered bench swing we’d set up years ago to watch the water, I dug my cane into the sand and stepped toward her. Dawn-light caught her pretty seafoam-green dress, shimmering with reality and myth, making it seem as if she appeared from the ocean itself.
Our eyes met.
Our lips smiled.
No matter how many years passed, I would never get over the tingling sensation in my blood whenever she returned to me.
Home.
She’s home.
“Hello,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb the dawn. “You were a while.”
“Aslan, what on earth are you doing still waiting for me?” She marched toward me with balled hands. “I texted you to go on board Stardust. You should’ve been resting.”
“I can’t sleep if you’re not beside me.”
She winced and slotted into my arms. “And you think I can?”
“I know you will.”
“I’m not having another fight with you, Aslan. I said my piece before I left you for that interview. You know I can’t sleep without you either, and I never intend to.”
I sighed and kissed her before letting her go. “Not this again, canim. I thought we’d settled it before you left this morning. Well, yesterday morning now.”
“We did. We settled everything. Where you go, I go.”
“And I said that’s not happening.”
“And I said, bite me.”
A chuckle escaped me, smothering my frustration. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to agree to.”
Her eyes met mine, the blue catching flecks of new sunlight. No matter the age that stamped its relentless time into us. No matter the white hairs and wrinkles. I only ever saw her as the girl I fell madly in love with. My little water sprite, my sexy siren. She still had a power over me that made lust an insatiable force. Still made my heart kick and palms sweat. Still made me adore her.
“I do know what I’m asking,” she whispered. “I knew the moment I felt your first heart flutter that this was how it would end. It’s always been you, Aslan. Just you. Don’t ask me to give you up because I won’t.”
Prickles darted down my spine. Ever since I’d woken with a splitting headache last month and my right eye went blind for the day, I’d feared I’d had another stroke. We never went to the doctor because I was already on everything they could pump into me, but it solidified my plan: I refused to be at the mercy of pain again.
I’d endured enough.
I’d accepted my limitations.
I’d embraced the changes in my body and learned to love myself despite them.
But...I would not live through more.
Not now.
Not when the next one might steal who I was. Take my mind. My life. My love.
Ice rolled down my spine as a blizzard replaced my bones.
That was the worst thing imaginable.
To forget Nerida.
To forget all the moments we’d shared and all the triumphs we’d accomplished.
I might be a dead man walking, but I planned on walking beside her, cane, blade, and all until I said stop, not my heart.
I didn’t speak for the longest time, glancing out to sea where our yacht, manned with four staff, five luxury cabins, and a helipad, waited for us to climb aboard. We’d named it Stardust after the brightest spritz of the milky way that’d become a firm friend while living out to sea. With no light pollution and our nightly ritual of swimming around our sphere, we’d often floated on our backs and contemplated the meaning of all of this.
We were just a speck.
The tiniest piece of dust among the stars.
Which was why...I was okay with my choice.
Why such decisions of taking charge of my destiny might be frowned upon by society, but it wasn’t a decision I took lightly.
Neri’s gaze drifted to Stardust too. The windows twinkled, her lines beautiful and railings polished. The sleek speedboat waiting to take us to her bobbed on the seashore. The yacht was fully stocked for months at sea. We’d always said we’d go around the world on a voyage, but that had never happened.
Lunamare took up too much time, and I was still active in charities for the underprivileged.
Despite our years, we hadn’t slowed down, and a part of me regretted that. Regretted the chance to travel with Neri with no destination or itinerary. Just us and the sea, following the moon wherever it took us.
Wrapping her arms around me, she pressed her ear above my heart and murmured, “I’ll make you another vow, Aslan. The one I made has kept you alive this far. You know when you die, I die. It’s made you fight to remember how to walk again. It’s forced you to speak again. It’s kept you strong and healthy, and I don’t care if it’s unfair of me to put that burden on you when I know what you struggle with.
