He's different
1646 Words
The distant boom of fireworks nudged me awake. My eyes fluttered open, greeted by dazzling bursts of red and gold cracking across the sky. For a moment, I didn’t move. I was still nestled against his chest—this stranger who had caught me just before I fell off the cliff. His arm was around me, secure but not invasive. I could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath beneath my cheek.
We sat at the cliff’s edge, legs stretched before us, the city below us glittering like a constellation had spilled across the earth. The ocean roared softly behind the music of laughter and joy rising from the streets.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice deep, calm, and laced with a strange familiarity.
I lifted my head slowly and turned to him. “You speak Virelian?”
He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tilting just so. “I do. Born and raised.”
My eyes widened slightly. “You’re from Virelia too?”
He nodded. “East Ridge. You?”
“Central Heights,” I said, pushing myself up to sit properly, brushing my hair back from my face. “I… I’m sorry about earlier. The collapse, the drama. That was embarrassing.”
He shrugged, gaze still fixed on the sky. “It’s not a problem. You’re not the first person to nearly pass out at the edge of a cliff.” He paused, and we both turned toward the crowd again. The streets were filled with light and celebration—people dancing, couples holding hands, joy blooming like the fireworks above us.
“What do you think they’re all celebrating?” he asked, more to himself than me. “What is it they’re so damn happy about?”
I glanced at him. “Maybe love. This looks like the kind of place people come to with someone special.”
He scoffed softly. “Love. It’s a beautiful lie. People are so desperate not to be alone, they make anything feel like love. It’s a trick of the mind—a drug. You take enough of it, you forget what’s real.”
I looked at him carefully. There was no bitterness in his tone, just resignation. Like a man who had seen too much to keep believing.
“You say it like it’s a disease,” I said gently. “But love doesn’t pretend to be perfect. It’s flawed and messy and unpredictable. But it’s real. It’s not about fantasy—it’s about choosing someone, even when it’s hard. Even when everything in you wants to run.”
He turned toward me, brows slightly raised. “You sound like an expert.”
I gave a short laugh. “I’m the worst. Really. I’ve only ever made mistakes.”
Silence fell between us, not uncomfortable. The kind of quiet that lets you both breathe.
After a while, I turned slightly. “I’m sorry to ask, but… do you have any cash on you?”
He looked at me, puzzled. I quickly added, “I got robbed earlier. Two guys. They took my bag. I just… I wanted to buy a drink or something.”
He smiled then, warm and genuine. “I’ve got more than you’ll need tonight. What kind of drink are we talking?”
“Something strong,” I said, grinning.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering me his hand. “I know a place.”
We walked through winding streets until we found a tucked-away bar lit by warm string lights and the hum of old jazz. We sat at the counter, ordered two glasses of whiskey, and let the night roll over us like a wave.
As I sipped mine, my eyes caught a flyer pinned to the wall nearby. I leaned forward, plucking it free. It was a concert poster—Aeliano D’Varez, the romantic singer who had driven Virelian girls mad with his voice a decade ago.
“You like Aeliano?” he asked.
I smiled, turning the poster in my hand. “I love him. But my mother always hid his cassettes. Said a woman of value and dignity shouldn't feed her mind with that kind of music.”
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing with a teasing grin. “But it’s your life. Do you really need someone’s permission to decide what makes you feel alive?”
I met his eyes. His words lingered.
“I wish it were that simple,” I said quietly. “I’m the only daughter of my family. My mother chases perfection like it’s oxygen, and my father… he’s determined to become the next president of Virelia. My every move is a headline waiting to happen. I’m not allowed to want anything unless it fits their image.”
He didn’t laugh or judge. He just looked at me—really looked at me. “But you’re here,” he said. “You left. You came to this place on your own. That means something. Maybe it’s time you start writing your own story.”
His words struck something inside me I didn’t know needed to be said.
“Would you want to watch the concert?” he asked.
I blinked. “Wait, you’re serious?”
He shrugged with a grin. “Of course—if you’re interested. It’s probably the closest thing to magic tonight.”
I smiled, the first real smile I’d felt all day. “Lead the way.”
We reached the open concert square just as the band struck its first note. The stage shimmered under golden lights, and Aeliano D’Varez took the stage, his voice pouring over the crowd like warm honey. People danced in the street. Strangers sang with their arms around each other. It felt like a dream pulled from another lifetime.
As I watched, he stood up and turned to me. “Care to dance?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I’m not really a dancer.”
“Just for tonight,” he said, stepping closer. “There’s no one here who knows us. No cameras. No expectations. Just you… and me.”
I hesitated… then stood.
He held out his hand.
And I took it.
As we stepped into the crowd and the music swelled around us, he pulled me close. We began to dance—not perfectly, not gracefully—but with the freedom of people who had nothing to prove.
It was the first time in a long time… I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The night air was cool and crisp, brushing gently against my cheeks as laughter spilled from my lips. I hadn’t laughed like that in years. Not that light, unguarded kind of laugh that rises from your chest and makes you forget that you're supposed to be careful. He was laughing too, his eyes slightly squinting, his teeth white and even in the moonlight. We stood just outside the concert hall, the music still thumping softly behind us, and for the first time in forever, I felt like just a girl—not the senator’s daughter, not the future ambassador, not the puppet of Virelia’s first family.
Just Cassara.
And I was happy.
He looked at me, a smile still playing on his lips. “You should enjoy your night” he said gently.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my cheeks warm from all the laughing. “I’m sorry,” I said with a soft chuckle, “but... can I ask something before the night ends?”
He tilted his head slightly. “You may.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, raising my brow. “You never told me.”
His smile deepened, turning into something amused and almost teasing. “My name is one of those names no one dares to speak aloud… except my mother.”
I blinked, then rolled my eyes. “You could’ve just said you didn’t want to tell me. No need to get all cryptic and mysterious.”
He laughed at that, a real laugh. “Fine. I’ll give it to you my name is Kaelen D’Aris.”
I repeated it in my mind. Kaelen D’Aris. It rolled off the tongue like a melody. It sounded unique.
“That’s a beautiful name, mine is Cassara” I whispered.
He looked at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he said, “Cassara... tomorrow—can I ask you out for coffee?”
I blinked at him, surprised, but before I could say anything, he added, “When we meet, there’s something I want to tell you. But you have to promise me you’ll show up.”
I gave a small nod. “Of course I’ll be there.”
A cab pulled up then, headlights slicing through the dark. The driver leaned out, waving. My ride.
Kaelen opened the door for me like a gentleman, and I stepped inside. I didn’t want to leave yet, but the night had to end. As the car pulled away, I looked through the rear window—he was still standing there, one hand in his pocket, watching me with a small smile.
I couldn’t stop staring. Even when the city lights began to blur by, I kept looking through the window as if doing so would help me hold onto this night a little longer.
When I reached the hotel, I didn’t bother with the lights. I slipped off my shoes, walked to the bed, and collapsed onto it like a girl who had just lived a dream.
Kaelen D’Aris.
I said the name to myself again as I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling, smiling like a fool. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid of the unknown.
- Writer
