When I Left, He Found His Way Back

"He didn't tattle-tale. I asked him because I needed to know who your enemies were, so I could protect you better. Your brother can be a handful sometimes. If I fail in protecting you, he'd have my head."

I nodded, he sounded convincing, only that I wasn't convinced.

"Also," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine as he paused, holding my hands in his own grasp. "You can ask me anything about myself, Jessica. Anything, and I'd tell you."

His sincerity was disarming, but I remained cautious.

"That way, you won't feel uncomfortable around me," he continued, his voice gentle.

I raised an eyebrow, sensing a deeper implication.

"After all, we're dating..." he said, his words trailing off as my eyes narrowed.

Realization dawned on his face, and he swiftly corrected himself. "I mean, faking it."

A hint of a smile played on his lips, but I wasn't amused. "Faking it," I repeated. My tone was calm as I added. "Let's keep that in mind."

I tried to pull my hands away from his but his hold tightened like a vice. "Let go, your wound needs to be covered."

"Oh." He breathed, his eyes still on mine.

I looked away and roamed my gaze through the content of the first aid kit until I spotted a plaster. He released me then.

As I covered the cut on his forehead, I began. "Okay, I'll take you up on that offer," I said, my voice firm. "Tell me, what's one thing about yourself that few people know?"

His eyes sparkled, and he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. I could feel his warm breath on my face, sending a shiver down my spine. Instinctively, I pulled back a little, creating a distance between us.

He didn't push the issue, instead clearing his throat. "I've been waiting for you to ask," he said, his voice low and measured.

Then, his tone shifted, taking on a slow and sorrowful undertone. "I'm an orphan."

My gaze snapped back to his, and I was struck by the depth of emotion in his eyes. They seemed to hold a world of pain, a weight that threatened to consume him.

His eyes, usually bright and piercing, now appeared brooding, sorrowful, and filled with longing. The vulnerability was startling, and I felt my defenses soften.

Without thinking, I reached out and gently touched his arm. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His gaze dropped, focusing on my hand on his arm. For a moment, we just stood there, the only sound was our calm breathing.

Then, he looked up, his eyes locking onto mine. "It's not something I share often," he said, his voice still laced with emotion. "Even your brother doesn't know this."

My head bobbed understandingly. I've never heard of it before. The media doesn't discuss his family.

"Thank you for trusting me," I replied, my voice was sincere.

The air between us seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. I sensed that this was just the surface of a deeper wound, one that I wanted to understand.

Standing up, he asked. "Can I hug you?" he inquired, his voice low and gentle, as he leaned closer.

I felt a flutter in my chest, unsure of how to respond. A part of me wanted to move away, to create distance between us, but my body seemed rooted to the spot.

So, I nodded silently, my eyes locked on his.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. I felt his chest against mine, his heartbeat was erratic and chaotic.

For a moment, I let myself relax into his hold, letting the tension seep out of his body. My hand raised and slowly began to pat his back, soothing his nerves.

…

I lay in bed, my thoughts drifting back to the moment he had held me. "It's going to be okay," I had whispered, and he had nodded quietly, his shoulders sagging in relief.

As I watched him leave, my gaze lingered on his retreating figure. Something about him tugged at my heartstrings, and I couldn't explain why I felt a pang of sorrow for him.

His vulnerable voice haunted me, echoing in my mind long after he was gone. There was a depth of pain in his tone that I couldn't ignore.

For some reason, I felt there was more to his parents' death than he was letting on. The way he spoke about it seemed...off. A hint of anguish, a whisper of secrets untold.

Questions swirled in my mind. What had really happened to his parents? Why did he sound so broken, so hurt?

I tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to his story. The darkness outside seemed to press in, as if the shadows themselves held the answers.

Soon, I drifted to sleep, lost in a beautiful dream that enveloped me in its serenity. The world outside receded, and my mind surrendered to the gentle currents of slumber.

When I woke up, the dream's details had vanished, leaving behind only a faint sense of tranquility. I stretched, arching my back and extending my arms, shaking off the haze of sleep.

After freshening up, I headed to the kitchen to start my day with a hearty breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sizzle of eggs in the pan.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, my phone buzzed with a video call from my family. I smiled, anticipating the warmth and laughter that always accompanied our conversations.

I answered, and familiar faces filled the screen. My family's bright smiles and cheerful greetings instantly lifted my mood.

We chatted and laughed together, sharing stories and updates. My older brother teased me good-naturedly, and I playfully retorted.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, the call was coming to an end. "Love you all," I said, waving at the screen.

"Love you too," they chimed in unison, blowing kisses and waving goodbye.

As the call ended, I felt rejuvenated and grateful for the loving connection we shared. The warmth of our conversation lingered, filling my day with promise and positivity.

With a renewed sense of joy, I sat down to enjoy my now-cooled breakfast, savoring each bite. After the meal, I'd be heading to the mall to get supplies for my first day at the university. If only I knew the chaos that would bring.