CHAPTER FIVE
633 Words
Malakai’s POV
Two Years Earlier
I remember the rain hitting the windshield in uneven rhythms. I remember the wipers dragging back and forth like they were trying to erase something that wouldn’t disappear. I grip the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles pale, jaw locked. The road stretches out in front of me, headlights streaking past, but I’m barely seeing it. All I can hear is her voice. I can’t risk losing you.
The words loop.
I stop at a red light and laugh under my breath, but it sounds wrong. Hollow. I finally said it. Finally stopped pretending. And she looked at me like I had handed her something fragile and dangerous.
I press my forehead briefly against the steering wheel when the light stays red longer than it should. “Get it together,” I mutter to myself.
When I pull into the driveway, I sit there for a full minute before turning the engine off. The silence that follows is heavy. The kind that presses in on your ribs.
Inside, Zander is sprawled across the couch, controller in hand. “You look like you lost a fight,” he says without looking up.
“Feels worse,” I answer.
He glances over. Sees my face properly. Pauses the game.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “It’s her.”
I nod once. That’s all I’ve got.
“She said no.”
Zander studies me carefully. “No as in not now? Or no as in no?”
“No as in she can’t risk losing me.”
He leans back slowly. “That’s not exactly rejection.”
I drop my keys on the table and sit heavily in the chair across from him. My hands are still tight from gripping the wheel. I can almost feel the imprint of it in my palms. I replay the moment over and over. The way her voice trembled. The way she wouldn’t meet my eyes at first. The way she chose safety over us.
“She was scared,” Zander says.
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t—”
“I know,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to. I drag a hand down my face. “That’s what makes it worse.”
If she didn’t feel it, I could walk away clean. I could tell myself I imagined it.
But she does feel it.
And she still said no.
“You gonna give her space?” Zander asks after a beat.
I nod. “Yeah.”
Because loving Nova has never been about backing her into a corner. It’s about waiting. Even when waiting feels like bleeding slowly.
“I meant it,” I say quietly. “I don’t want halfway with her.”
Zander’s expression shifts, protective and steady. “You’ve loved her for years.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
The truth sits between us, undeniable.
My throat tightens before I can stop it. The tears come quietly, controlled, but they come. I look away, embarrassed, but Zander just stands and pulls me into a hug that feels grounding instead of pitying.
“She didn’t choose against you,” he says into my shoulder. “She chose against risk.”
“That still feels like me,” I admit.
He pulls back slightly. “Then when she’s ready, make sure you’re still someone worth choosing.”
The words settle deep.
I nod once.
But when I finally go to my room and close the door, the weight of it crashes down. I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing.
I told her I wanted her.
And she said no.
Not because she didn’t care.
But because she cared too much.
And somehow, that hurts even more.
- Writer
