He pulled me closer, his gaze locked on mine. “I can’t do this anymore,” he choked, shaking again. “I give up, Tshabina…” His voice was raw, scraped thin by panic. “Help me… I-I’m starting to fear that I can’t even see you the way you are anymore.”
“Shhh… Zi—” I tried to soothe him, though my voice shook.
“Why?” His cry cracked. “Why do they have to torture me, Tshabina?” His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
My head spun. I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t know what to do—except that every instinct in me screamed to calm him.
“Why?” His sobs turned bitter, laced with anguish. “Why does my dad want to steal every bit of good in me?”
My mouth opened and closed. “Shh… it’s okay, Zi,” I whispered. “It’s okay…”
I cupped his cold, rain-soaked cheek, and my palm brushed his clammy skin. He shook violently, as if hypothermia were only moments away. We couldn’t stay here; we’d collapse if we did. “What can I do, Zi?” My voice cracked into the storm. “No… what should I do?”
He didn’t answer right away. For a long moment, he stared at me, clutching my shoulders as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Finally, his lips parted. His voice was barely audible. “Take me…” His whisper trembled. “Please… just… take me away.”
And then his head dropped onto my shoulder, his weight heavy, and he collapsed into me. My arms wrapped around him, holding tight, holding all that brokenness against me. I bit my lip hard to stifle my own sobs, stroked his back before pulling away enough to look at him. “Let’s get out of here first, okay? Did you bring your car?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even flinch. My eyes darted around from side to side, but there was no sign of his car. But then, there, a taxi idled not far off. Relief burst in me, and I shouted. “Taxi!”
Grabbing his hand, I tugged gently. “Come on, Zi.” My tone softens, coaxed him as if he were a frightened child. “It’s okay. I’ll take you, alright?”
I guided him through the rain towards the cab, pulling him with me.
Inside the car, we were drenched and shivering. I could have cried with gratitude when the driver handed us a small towel. Without thinking, my hands moved on their own and began to dry Zioh’s hair.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.
“To a—” As I was about to mention his home address, my voice caught. His hand stopped me.
I met his wide, trembled eyes, and his voice was sharp and low. “Don’t.” He shook his head. “Please… anywhere but not there.
I hesitated, searching his eyes. “Where then? Where do you want me to take you?”
Silence. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his lip caught between his teeth as though he was wrestling with the thought. Finally, he exhaled. “Penthouse.”
He glanced forward, speaking to the driver, his voice rough but steadier. “To Danubuwono Residence, please.”
The taxi rolled forward, and the relentless rain hammered harder against the roof, drowning out everything else. I kept drying Zioh’s hair with the little towel, even though he seemed absent. His gaze remained hollow, lost somewhere I couldn’t follow. One of his AirPods was still in place, the other missing. What happened to him…?
When he finally looked at me, that vacant stare anchored me in place, a physical weight freezing my limbs, while the towel was still clutched in my hand.
Slowly, he reached out, brushing against my cheek to wipe away the lingering raindrops. His fingers were ice-cold, yet his gaze carried warmth—made me feel as if I slipped back into the past.
His eyes flicked to the towel in my hand. Then, gently, he took it from me. Turning the gesture around, he began to dry my hair instead, and his touch was achingly soft, so careful it made my chest tighten.
Our eyes met and held, and it felt the world had narrowed to the two of us for a moment—it warmed me from within despite the cold.
He moved lower, patting down the dampness on my neck and my hoodie. His movements were calm and tender. The sensation of his skin lightly touching mine made my body tremble. I blew out a shaky breath.
Then he draped the towel over my shoulders, enclosing both my hands in his and rubbing warmth into them. His gaze was deep and intent.
“I’ve been hurting you…” His voice cracked, raspy but deliberate. He looked down at my pale, trembling hands. “And… I still don’t know if I can stop.” The words pierced through me. My eyes burned with tears I fought to hold back.
He raised his gaze, locking onto mine with those reddened, quivering eyes. “They say… if it’s truly fate,” his voice dropped low, “no matter what we go through, the universe will always find a way to bring us back together.”
His grip tightened around my hands, his stare unwavering. “I want to believe that Tshabina.”
