Chapter 6
1315 Words
It had been two weeks since Micah’s last visit, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not a night passed without his eyes haunting my dreams—those eyes, both tired and wild, fierce and gentle all at once. No matter how hard I tried, whether I buried myself in textbooks or drowned myself in the pages of a novel, my mind always circled back to him. It was exhausting, confusing, and terrifying. How could someone who barely knew me occupy so much space inside my head?
Today, I had tried to convince myself that things would be different. I had plans—a real date, with someone who was safe, ordinary, and the exact opposite of Micah. I had spent hours getting ready, carefully choosing the right outfit: a soft, light blue dress that flowed just enough to feel pretty but not too much to feel noticed. I braided my hair neatly, applied a touch of mascara, and dabbed on a faint scent of my favorite perfume—not the one Micah told me not to wear, but something light and fresh. Maybe this date could help me move on. Maybe it could replace the strange, confusing feelings Micah had stirred up inside me.
I glanced at the clock for the third time in ten minutes, nerves twisting my stomach. Then there was a sharp knock on the door.
I froze.
The knock came again—more insistent.
My heart pounded in my ears as I walked to the door, hands trembling. Slowly, I opened it, and there he was—Micah. Standing there like some impossible vision, taller than I remembered, his dark hair slightly tousled and his eyes calm but intense. He didn’t smile, but there was something soft in his expression that made my heart twist painfully.
“Hello,” he said, voice low and steady.
I swallowed, stepping back instinctively.
“Please, have a seat. I’ll be right back,” I managed, retreating quickly to my room before he could see the wild beat of my heart.
I shut the door behind me and collapsed onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. What was wrong with me? The goal had been clear: apologize, answer his questions, and move on. But now, faced with him again, I felt like a foolish teenager caught in a dream. I needed to calm down, to find my composure.
After washing my face with cool water and changing into a softer, looser shirt and jeans, I took a deep breath and went back downstairs.
Micah was still standing by the wall, his eyes casually scanning the family photos.
“That’s my brother,” I said quietly, nodding toward one of the framed pictures.
He turned to me, his gaze softer. “I recognize him. Went to the same high school.”
“Yes,” I said.
There was a pause. His expression shifted, concern flickering across his face.
“How did you sleep for two days straight? And your parents—weren’t here?”
“They’re doctors,” I said, voice steady despite the ache inside. “They’re usually on long shifts. I’m used to being alone. I had the flu, but I’m okay now.”
He didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowed.
Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, I quickly changed the subject. “Shall we go for that walk?”
He nodded and led the way outside.
The evening air was cool, filled with the scent of pine and wet earth from the morning rain. As we walked away from the house, the sounds of the neighborhood faded behind us, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdcalls.
“There are rules here you need to know,” Micah said quietly.
“Rules?” I echoed, confusion knitting my brow.
“I’ll explain as we go,” he said, glancing back with a half-smile that made my stomach flutter. “By the way, the name’s Micah.”
“Micah,” I repeated softly, tasting the name on my tongue.
“And your surname?”
“Renalds.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, tell me about yourself.”
I took a deep breath, searching for words that might be enough but not too much. “Aliya. I live at number one Poseidon Avenue. I don’t socialize much. I like to read.”
He raised an eyebrow, thoughtful. “That explains why no one noticed you.”
“Exactly,” I said with a small smile.
Suddenly, he sniffed the air, his nose twitching.
“Do me a favor—don’t wear that perfume again.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“You don’t need it,” he said simply, as if it were obvious.
We continued down the narrow path, surrounded by tall trees whose branches swayed gently in the evening breeze. The light filtered through the leaves, casting playful patterns on the ground. I noticed how tall he was; I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes, and despite the chill in the air, I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
At one point, Micah moved behind me so that I was walking ahead, shielding me from whatever might lurk in the shadows. My breath hitched at the unexpected gentleness of the gesture.
The path opened into a small clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The grass was thick and wildflowers dotted the edges like scattered stars.
“I’ve never been here,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
Micah’s gaze was fixed on me.
“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked, frustration edging his voice.
I hesitated, then met his eyes.
And just like before, we fell into that silent staring contest. His brown eyes were deep pools that seemed to hold endless stories, both ancient and immediate. I found myself stretching to meet his gaze, heart pounding.
He stepped closer, his voice low and warm. “Breathe.”
I did, forgetting that I’d stopped.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“No. Should I be?”
“Yes and no,” he said, his lips curving into a half-smile.
I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to close the distance between us. But reason held me back. I stepped away, feeling the flutter of my heart slam against my ribs.
“I don’t think we should be here alone,” I said, voice trembling.
“Why not?”
“You seem important. This is my second chance here. I want to get through the year.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Aliya,” he said softly. “Maybe next time you’ll let me ask my questions properly.”
My heart screamed at me to stay—to kiss him, to hold him—but I turned and ran. Not home, but into the trees.
The shadows deepened around me, and panic clawed its way up my throat.
Then a howl broke the silence, sharp and close.
I froze, every muscle tense, my breath caught in my throat.
The creature emerged from the trees—larger than anything I’d ever seen, its fur gleaming silver in the fading light.
It stopped in front of me, eyes gleaming, intense but not threatening.
The fear that had rooted me began to loosen as it lowered its head toward me.
Tentatively, I reached out a shaking hand and ran it along the silky fur of its back.
Its breath was warm on my skin, the creature’s presence calming in a way that defied logic.
Our eyes locked, and I gasped, caught in the mesmerizing depth of its gaze.
The animal nudged my neck softly with its nose, and an inexplicable sense of peace washed over me.
I felt my trembling fade as I sat back on my heels, the wild creature by my side like a guardian.
- Writer
