I flopdown on the sofa, lifting my legs and settling them onto Elijah’s lap. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through the room as he saves his place with one of the bookmarks I’ve been making for him out of metal and chemical etching solution.
He no longer hesitates like he used to, resting a hand on my shin and wrapping the other around my ankle, tugging me closer and flooding me with a wave of calm.
Things have shifted between us. As I’ve begun working through my trauma and letting him in, I’ve come to understand how much brighter my life is with him in it. It’s a feeling I never want to let go of.
“How was therapy?” he asks, rubbing methodical circles over the bony inside of my ankle.
I drag my eyes away from where his hands rest on me and meet his gaze. “It was good, I think. Not as draining as the firsttwo sessions, but I think we’re getting somewhere already. We have a long list of topics to cover though. Now that we've laid the groundwork, we'll start with weekly sessions.”
He hums with approval, pride glimmering in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he says, reminding me as he has all week. “And when you decide you’re ready to tell your par—” His sentence gets cut off by a knock at the door. “Were you expecting anyone?” he asks, and I shake my head as he pushes off the sofa and heads to the door.
He pulls it open, blocking my view of whoever’s standing there. “Hey, mate. Is Adhira Shah here?” he asks, only minorly butchering the pronunciation of my name. “I’m Archie’s oldest grandson, Callum. He left something for her, and I’d really like to?—”
I bolt to the door, nudging Elijah out of the way.
My mouth grows dry as I stare at a man, likely in his early thirties, with the same kind eyes my friend had, and a younger, less sassy version of his face. Emotion swells in my chest, the backs of my eyes burning with hot tears.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He gives me the smallest, saddest smile I’ve ever seen, and it breaks my heart just a twinge more.
Elijah wraps an arm around my waist, pecking the top of my head before slipping away, whispering something about giving us space. I step into the hallway, closing the door behind me. It’s not that I don’t want Elijah to hear our conversation. I’ll tell him everything anyway, but this just feels like something I need to do alone. He’s been here for me through every impossible moment, but I need to prove to myself that I can do this without leaning on him every time I’m confronted by my emotions.
“You look exactly as he described,” Callum says, reaching up to scratch his cheek where his beard has become overgrown. “He loved you, you know.” My heart aches for a hug from theman who’d been there for me even when I tried so hard to push everyone away.
“I loved him too,” I tell him, not having to think about it for a single second. Archie hadn’t known me long, and yet he took me under his wing when he saw how vulnerable I was, distracting me from the worst of it and numbing the pain along the way. He stitched himself into the textile of my soul from that very first day. “He was a good friend.”
He smiles warmly at that, nodding. “That he was.”
We end up sitting on the hallway floor, our backs pressed against the wall as we talk about Archie, how his family is coping, and I finally get the truth about what kind of cancer he’d been treating with palliative chemo all that time. Callum leaves me with a hug that feels nothing like his grandfather’s, but the envelope he hands me feels like an extension of Archie, and I’m honoured to have been left any piece of him at all.
I remain seated on the floor a while longer, disconnected from my body. The door creaks open, and I look up to find Elijah crouching beside me. He cups my cheeks, dragging my gaze to his. “You okay?” he asks, his voice rough with gravel.
I nod, my hand slipping into his as he helps me up and leads me to the sofa. I run my thumb over the seam of the envelope, releasing a deep breath before tearing into it.
Dearest Lass,
If you’re reading this, it means I’ve left the mortal world in favour of a place without limits, fears, or pain, reuniting with my favourite person. So I ask that you please don’t shed any more tears for me.
“Too late for that, arsehole,” I curse through a watery sob.
As you know, writing isn’t my strong suit, and I am not in possession of a computer. Okay, that’s a lie, but I bet you believed it! I’m not even that old, Adhira, really.
I snort a laugh, wiping at the errant tears soaking my cheeks.
Anyway, I’ll keep this as short as possible, but I hope it provides you some comfort because, for all the ways you try to show your indifference, it’s clear to me that you care deeply.
And I care so very much for you, and that inhumanly tall bloke, Elijah. He’s good for you. He brings out the softness in you, giving you a safe space to let down your walls. I was once that man for my greatest love, Margaret. If you let him, he’ll give you the world, and as your elder, I suggest you do!
As my last piece of advice, I’m begging you to tell your parents. Include them in this because, as much as you think you’re protecting them, you’re just delaying the inevitable. Let them help you. Let them hold your hand in this. And let them fall apart too. Sometimes that’s all we really need.
Getting to know you has been one of the most incredible honours of my life, and though I’m jealous of those around you for not getting to see you accomplish everything you set out to myself, I’m confident that you, Adhira Shah, are going to change the world for the better, even if just a small piece of it. My hope in these last days is that you recognise that, believe it, and more than anything, that you’ll let love in.
You’re deserving of all the good and wonderful things in this world, and I’ll be watching from the heavens as you grab life by the bollocks, show cancer that it’s your lavvy heid, and give that precious angel of a man and his ungodly thick thighs a chance.
All my love,
Archie (FKA Archibald The Great)
