Chapter 19 Ghost from Paris
Zephyra stares at Felix's name. Five years of silence materializing in elegant handwriting.
The letter trembles in her hands.
Kairo crosses the room in three strides. His eyes scan the paper. She watches his jaw tighten.
"Who's Felix Gray?"
The question hangs between them like smoke.
Zephyra could lie. Could pretend this does not matter.
But she promised herself no more hiding.
"My first love."
The phrases flavor like vintage wine. Sweet and sour immediately.
She sits on the couch. Kairo follows, keeping distance between them. The space feels intentional. Careful.
"We met at Paris Design College. He became my mentor. Three years older. Intelligent." Her voice cracks. "We have been planning our future. A fashion house collectively. Marriage. The whole thing."
"What occurred?"
"He vanished. Weeks before graduation. No goodbye. No explanation. No forwarding address." She looked at the letter, at the handwriting that once crammed her journals. "I never knew why."
Kairo's hand clenches on his knee. "And now he desires to give an explanation for what?"
"Apparently."
Silence stretches. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Like an urgent weight down on both of them.
Then Kairo asks the question she's been dreading.
"Do you still love him?"
Zephyra's breath catches. She wants to say no. Desires to reassure him. desires to make this less difficult.
But honesty is all she has left to give.
"I do not know." Her voice shakes. "I thought I'd buried it. Years of therapy . Years of moving on. Years of convincing myself I was fine ."
She touches her chest, which aches.
"But seeing his call... he broke something in me; I'm no longer sure it ever healed."
Kairo flinches. The ache in his eyes makes her want to take it back. But she cannot lie. Not to him. Not about this.
He stands. Paces to the window. Stares out at the town lights bleeding through the darkness.
"What does he want?"
Zephyra reads the invitation again. Her palms nonetheless shake. "There's an exhibition opening this weekend. Paris. He says he owes me the truth about why he left."
"You deserve closure." Kairo's voice is tight. Controlled. "After what he did to you."
She unfolds the rest of the letter. Read the final strains aloud.
"I owe you the truth about why I left. Please come. You deserve closure. —F"
Just one letter. F. Like they're still intimate. Like 5 years of silence did not appear. Like he has the right to summon her across an ocean.
Kairo turns from the window. His face is in the war sector. Jealousy combats belief. Fear battles love. Manage wrestling with faith.
"Do you want to go?"
The question expenses him. She sees it within the anxiety of his shoulders. The clench of his jaw. The way his eyes might not quite meet hers.
Zephyra stands. Crosses to him. Takes his arms in hers.
"Not alone."
His eyes snap to hers. Surprise glints there.
"Will you come back with me?" She squeezes his palms. "Help me face this ghost?"
Comfort floods his features like dawn breaking via hurricane clouds. "You want me there?"
"I need you there." She means it. Every word. "I cannot do that without you. I don't need to try this without you."
He pulls her near. He buries his face in her hair. His breath heated in opposition to her scalp.
"Usually. We face the whole lot together now."
The phrases echo his promise from this morning. when he instructed her, he'd wait. when he gave her time. While he proved love would not call for. It offers.
Now she's asking him to walk into her past with her. To face beside her at the same time as she confronts the person who broke her. To observe at the same time as she opens wounds she's spent years looking too near.
"Thanks," she whispers against his chest.
"For what?"
"For no longer making me select between closure and us."
He kisses her brow. Lingers there. "I trust you. It is him I don't trust."
Fair enough.
They booked flights that night. crimson-eye to Paris. Business class because Kairo insists and Zephyra's too emotionally exhausted to argue.
Arrive Saturday morning with just enough time to sleep off the jet lag earlier than the exhibition.
Zephyra slightly sleeps on the plane. Her mind runs in circles. What will she say? What's he going to say? Does she need answers, or does she want revenge?
Kairo holds her hand the whole flight. Would not ask questions. Doesn't demand an explanation. Just offer silent aid. His thumb left lines on her palm.
Paris looks identical. Cobblestone streets are nonetheless choppy. Café awnings are nevertheless striped. The Eiffel Tower nonetheless pierces the sky like a needle through fabric.
However, Zephyra feels extraordinary. She left this city broken. Shattered. A woman who could not apprehend why she wasn't enough.
Returns as someone new.
Someone stronger.
Someone married to a man who loves her enough to stand her ghosts. Who trusts her enough to permit her to have closure?
They take a look into the lodge. Bathe. Change. Zephyra changed into a black dress—armor disguised as beauty. Kairo wears a suit that makes his appearance risky. Protecting.
"Ready?" he asks.
She's not. However, she nods anyway.
The gallery is in Le Marais. present-day glass outdoors. Luxurious cars lining the street. String lights develop the environment. The type of establishment where everyone who matters shows up.
Zephyra's palms shake as they approach the entrance. Kairo's arm around her waist steadies her. Grounds her.
Then she sees him.
Felix.
Standing by the door like he has been waiting. Like he knew precisely when she'd arrive. Older. More sophisticated. Devastatingly good-looking in the manner that European guys continually appear to be.
His eyes locate hers across the group.
Everyone stops.
Five years collapse into seconds. All the pain. All the questions. All the nights she cried herself to sleep questioning what she did wrong. Wondering if she changed into someone too ambitious. Too difficult. Too much.
Felix's expression transforms. Pleasure and regret mix into something that looks like longing. Like hunger.
His actions towards them. Ignores the other guests looking to get his attention. Eyes locked on Zephyra like she's the only person in the world
"Zephyra."
Her name in his French accent. God, she'd forgotten the way it sounded. The way it used to make her feel special.
"You came." His smile is outstanding. Painful. "You're more stunning than I remembered."
His eyes barely acknowledge Kairo. Simply flick over him like an inconvenience. An impediment.
"We want to talk." Felix reaches for her hand. "Alone."
Kairo steps closer. Defensive. Possessive. His hand tightens on her waist.
Zephyra's caught between past and present. Between the boy who abandoned her and the person who chose her. Between closure and safety.
Felix's eyes plead. "Please. Five years I have waited to give an explanation for. Give me an hour.
This is all I am asking."
His hand still extended. Anticipating her to take it.
But is an hour with Felix worth risking everything she's built with Kairo?