The wrong man, the right heart. chapter 1 cont'd
487 Words
“I know that kind of loss,” he said. “The kind that doesn’t shout. The kind that sits quietly in the corner of every room you enter.”
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed — just the two of them, a low hum of music, the faint crackle from the suya stand outside.
“Who did you lose?” she asked before thinking.
He smiled faintly, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Let’s just say… someone I didn’t deserve to keep.”
Their eyes locked, and this time the silence between them was almost unbearable. She could feel it — the gravity of something that shouldn’t be happening but was.
Outside, rain began to fall — light at first, then heavier, drumming softly on the tin roof. The sound wrapped around them, private, enclosing.
Sunny leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You know what I think, Pioneer?”
She swallowed. “What?”
“I think the things we run from have better memory than we do.”
Her pulse skipped. “You mean they follow us?”
He smiled slightly. “Sometimes they wait for us — in pubs like this.”
A shiver ran through her, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or recognition.
The lights flickered once, then steadied. The rain grew louder. She didn’t move, though every part of her knew she should — because the longer she sat there, the deeper this pull became.
She forced a small laugh. “You talk like a man who reads too many novels.”
“I don’t read,” he said simply. “I listen. People tell you their stories if you stay quiet long enough.”
She leaned in too, just slightly, her eyes searching his. “And what do you think my story is?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing something invisible. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer — dangerous again in that tender way.
“Your story,” he said, “is about a woman who wanted to start over… but didn’t realize the past knows how to change its name.”
The words sank into her like slow thunder.
And before she could respond, the power blinked out — a blackout, sudden and complete. The room fell into darkness, and someone near the bar cursed softly.
In the half-light from outside, she saw him — just his outline, his stillness. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
But when the light returned a moment later, his hand was resting near hers — not touching, just close enough to feel the heat.
It was accidental, probably. But when she looked up, his eyes told her otherwise.
Neither of them spoke.
And in that fragile, breathless silence, something unspoken passed between them — something that felt like recognition, like danger, like the first spark of a storm they both knew was coming
- Writer
