I pause. Wait to see if he wants to add anything else, throw in some extra life-altering facts while he’s at it. All the while, I just stare at him and try to pretend that this isn’t the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever been told.
I’m not immortal—yet.
He continues studying my expression, waiting for me to respond, but how do I respond to that? I can’t even think.
So I don’t.
I grab my little pot, turn, and walk away without another word.
Chapter 8: Kane
It is 12:34 PM. It’s 12 degrees outside. The sun will set at 8:15 PM this evening. My phone has 83% battery remaining. I have twelve unopened messages.
I can recite it all from memory, but I continue to stare at my screen, flicking the weather map up and down, over and over—anything to distract myself whilst I wait for Jasmine to speak to me again.
To ask me something. Anything.
She’s been inside the small greenhouse ever since I told her she could become immortal. I can see her just outside my peripheral, doing something with those little pots, but whenever I feel the warmth of her gaze, I don’t allow myself the reprieve and ensure mine stays averted.
And now it’s 12:36 PM. It’s still 12 degrees. The sun will still set this evening. I have 82% battery. I have fourteen unopened messages, and she still hasn’t said a thing.
Has someone slowed down time? Have seconds ever felt this infinite before? The dwelling, the doubts my mind creates while I simply wait—agonising.
I am not a patient man. My time is valuable, yet… Here I am. Waiting. Thinking. Doubting everything.
Tell her the truth.
That’s what they said. That’s what was agreed. But where has that gotten me? The truth is a pleasant dream, but that’s all it is—a dream, because the truth is always harder. Grittier.
Should I have told her we were immortal? But she asked… and they told me to tell the truth. They said to tell the truth and keep her talking. But instead, she’s pulled away.
12:40 PM and I have no idea how to fix this.
I’m not Sai. I don’t know how to cajole people into a conversation. I don’t have Ezekial’s warm demeanour or Julien’s charismatic ways. I don’t have anything to offer—nothing.
Nothing that can convince her I’m worthy, nothing that—
“Are you still busy?” She appears before me, and I very nearly drop my phone.
The light from the afternoon sun blares through the open skylight, illuminating her in a spotlight of warm gold. Her scarlet strands glisten, her pale skin glows, and her eyes burn brightly, narrowing in question.
She is truly an ethereal being. One I’m not worthy to look upon.
“Kane?”
I tilt my head down as I close my eyes. I need to savour this, I need to memorise the way her mouth forms when she says my name, lock the memory deep inside my mind.
I slip my phone into my pocket, pretending that’s why I looked away, before blinding myself with her face once more.
“I wasn’t busy,” I say, because I am telling the truth.
“Oh.” The way her lips shape into that sound should be illegal.
I shouldn’t be allowed to witness it, but I greedily steal that moment too as she sits down across from me. I study how her loose strands of hair bounce in soft curls before she hastily tucks them behind her ear, oblivious to my internal struggles.
“You said I wasn’t immortalyet.” Rather than look at me, her burning gaze flickers over the table between us, even though there’s nothing on it but my hands. “So how do you become immortal?”
“It’s complicated.” My fingers twitch. “Each person is different.”
