The ink after goodbye

chapter 16- Home.

𝘼𝙨𝙝𝙡𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙋𝙊𝙑

It’s been days since the... incident with Ryder. He took care of me so sweetly. He didn’t talk much — he never really does — but there’s something about the way he looks at me... like he knows me better than I know myself.

I’ve spent most of my days in my room, quiet and stormy inside. These dreams — or are they memories? — keep flashing in my mind. Familiar touches, faces I can’t fully see, a smile I feel I’ve known my entire life.

And Ryder... he's growing more handsome every day. It’s becoming impossible not to look at him. Not to crave the sound of his voice, even just once a day. It’s stupid. It’s irrational. But it’s there.

I was walking down the staircase, lost in my thoughts, when I heard it — faint giggles.

At first, I froze. Who could it be?

But as I listened closely, my heart skipped. That laugh. That unmistakable laugh.

Alisa.

Without thinking twice, I followed the sound, a smile tugging at my lips. My best friend was back.

I reached the source — a door slightly ajar — and peeked inside, excitement fluttering in my chest... but it turned to glass and shattered the moment I saw what was happening.

Alisa was giggling, yes — but not alone.

She was sitting on someone’s lap.

The man’s face was turned away from me, his back to the door. But I didn’t need to see his face. That black shirt — it was Ryder’s. The same one I’d seen him wear countless times. The faint pencil mark near the cuff, the tiny tear by the hem. It wasn’t a copy. It was his.

And Alisa was on his lap. Laughing. Smiling.

With him.

My world stopped.

My knees trembled. My body betrayed me. I clutched the wall for support as my heart broke without sound. I wanted to scream. To confront. But I couldn’t.

No. Not now. Not like this.

I turned and left quietly, as if I’d never been there. As if I hadn’t just witnessed my heart being handed to someone else.

And I ran — straight to my room — until my bed appeared in front of me like a finish line I never wanted to cross.

I collapsed onto it and cried.

But no sound escaped. Only tears. Endless, burning tears.

After hours, when my soul had dried up, I made a decision.

I couldn’t stay here anymore. Not after seeing that. But I knew if I told either of them, they would try to stop me. Maybe lie. Maybe tell me it’s not what it looked like. But I saw it.

And I felt it.

So, I packed. Just the essentials — a few clothes, a book, and one photo of him. One where he's smiling like the world doesn't weigh on his shoulders.

Then, I slipped out the back door of the mansion, careful to avoid the guards. Crossed through the bushes. And stepped onto the open road.

I didn’t know where I was going. Only that I couldn’t go back.

I walked for what felt like hours. My feet ached. My stomach growled. My heart was numb.

But then I saw it.

A house — small, warm, glowing faintly under the dusk sky. Out of desperation and hope, I knocked.

The door creaked open.

An old man stood there, his eyes kind. Behind him, an elderly woman appeared, smiling so softly that something inside me cracked.

“I... I don’t have anywhere to go,” I whispered. “I don’t have any money either... Can I stay here? Just for a while?”

Tears spilled before I even realized I was crying.

The old woman stepped forward and gently wiped them with her t shirt ends. Her smile was pure, comforting.

“Yes, child,” she said. “You can stay here. Until you find your path again.”

And that was it. I broke.

I dropped my bag and collapsed into her arms, sobbing like a child who finally found her mother in a crowded room. She held me, rocking gently, while the old man — uncle — played a song from the radio.

And somehow... it worked. I giggled. We all sang along.

Later, uncle handed me a warm cup of ginger tea. The smell alone melted something frozen in me.

“You want to see your room?” aunty asked, her voice soft.

I nodded.

We passed a grand staircase and entered a spacious, elegant room. The bed was enormous, the curtains golden and floral. I sat down, trailing my fingers along the silky fabric.

“You like it?” she asked.

I nodded again, eager this time.

She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and stepped out.

It felt surreal — people this kind, in a world this cruel. Why were they helping me? Why did it feel like they were waiting for me?

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts.

Uncle stepped in.

“Hey, can I come in?”

I blinked. “Uncle, this is your house. You don’t need to ask.”

He sat on the chair near the balcony and looked at me with gentle eyes.

“You must be wondering why we welcomed you like this. Treated you like family from the very first moment.”

I gave a hesitant nod. It had been on my mind.

He exhaled deeply.

“Seven years ago, a girl came to our home. Just like you. Lost, crying, tired. My wife took her in. She became the light in our lives. But then...” His voice broke. “She left. Took her own life.”

My lips parted, but no words came out.

“Since that day,” he continued, “my wife lost herself. She opened that door every evening at the same hour, hoping the girl would return. She never did.”

Until tonight.

“And today,” he whispered, taking my hand in his rough, warm ones, “for the first time in years, my wife laughed. She sang. She smiled like her heart remembered joy again.”

He looked at me, teary-eyed.

“Please... stay. Take the place our daughter left behind. Bring her back to life.”

I couldn’t speak. Only tears fell. I gave his hand a firm squeeze in promise.

Then, aunty’s voice floated in from the hallway:

“Let her sleep. She must be tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Uncle smiled and left.

I lay back on the bed, the warmth of the covers hugging me.

For the first time in a long while, my mind wasn’t haunted by Ryder’s smile or Alisa’s betrayal.

Tonight, I just felt... safe.

And maybe, just maybe, a little bit at home.