I turned to him, excitement breaking through. “How about we watch Harry Potter?”
A quiet laugh slipped from him, making me frown in confusion. “You’ve watched the Harry Potter series 287 times, Tshabina,” he said.
I blinked. Once. Twice. “Hah?”
I used to love Harry Potter. Not just me, but Tsabinu too. We’d rewatch the series anytime, anywhere. It had been our comfort film.
But how did Zioh have that exact number?
“You’ve watched all eight films 287 times,” he repeated, still watching me. His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “At least that was the count ten years ago. By now it’s probably doubled, isn’t it?”
Oh… my God.
He…
“You… counted?” I asked, almost breathless.
Zioh nodded. “Every time you watched, I counted.”
“Why?”
“You smiled.” He paused. “Every single time you watched them.” He lifted his hand, stroking my cheek with a gentle touch. “You smiled so wide.”
Heat flared across my cheeks, a flutter stirring in my stomach. I gripped the blanket, forcing my gaze back to the TV, terrified he might see the flush of my face.
Clearing my throat, I muttered, “It won’t be double, I prefer watching Asian series these days.” Half-burying my face in the blanket, I tried to hide the awkward smile tugging at my lips.
Zioh hummed, and in the corner of my eye, his lips quirked faintly. “Ah, my mistake.”
For a while, silence settled again. But when I glanced sideways, his eyes were fixed on my wrist.
The bracelet.
His gaze didn’t waver. It lingered, sharp and heavy, fixed on my wrist.
I followed his eyes and lifted my arm, unsure if I should. “This bracelet’s from Zeraiah,” I explained. “We met notlong ago, and he gave it to me. He said it was a gift he’d never had the chance to give back then.”
Zioh’s stare didn’t soften. He kept looking at the bracelet on my hand, and in this moment, my chest tightened as a familiar pain gathered inside it.
This hand… once belonged to him.
For years, it had been his. I had worn his bracelet for five years after he vanished. Only then had I taken it off.
I opened my mouth, about to say something, anything—
But then I noticed something strange. Zioh let out a harsh breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head hard. His hands trembled.
Worry surged through me. I was about to reach for him, but he shot to his feet. “I’ll grab us drinks and snacks,” he muttered, and without another glance, he headed for the stairs, disappearing down to the floor below.
I was about to follow him and walk toward the stairs, but I stopped when, from up here, I could see him standing rigid in the kitchen below. His hand shook as he popped something small into his mouth, swallowing quickly. A… pill?
My instinct screamed to run down, to ask him what was wrong. But before I could move, the buzzing of my phone, vibrating, pulled me back.
I turned, walking back to the sofa, and grabbed my phone from there. My brows knitted the moment I caught sight of it. Dozens of missed calls from Andi, nearly thirty minutes ago.
Of course, I hadn’t heard. The world had disappeared when I was with Zioh.
Then I opened his messages, and air caught in my throat.
