Chapter 62: The Fear of the One Who Waits

Aiyana's P.O.V

Just a few hours and I was all sweaty from anxiety. Every single sound made me jump in hopes that it was him.

It was crazy how one thinks they can relate to things until your in the shoes. I always always that person that thought videos of soldiers coming back home to their family was a little too dramatic with all the screams and tears but now, I felt like it was if anything, too little drama.

“Please be safe.” I said to the air as I laced back and forth, feeling my anxiety rub off on the men that were kept behind to watch me.

I couldn't see them before but now for some reason, they have revealed themselves and also looked a little restless.

It took a minute for me to realise that it wasn't just my anxiety rubbing off, something was indeed wrong and instinctively, my hands reached out to touch my knife compartment in the short that I wore underneath my skirt.

I guess my over-preparedness has finally paid off.

As one of them walked towards me, my hands tightly gripped the side of my skirt. Yes,mjetime said they were his most trusted men, I trusted him but not them.

Each second felt like a minute as he approached me and slowly too.

“Boss orders to take you to the jet in less than three hours. The others have packed some necessities but we would not dare touch your personal belongings. Please have a bag ready for your comfort ma'am.” The guard said and walked away immediately. As soon as he left, I felt a bile in my throat.

I can't

I can't

I really can't leave. I couldn't fathom how I was going to be able to leave here not knowing whether he was okay, alive or not and then be expected to continue to live my life.

All sorts of thoughts ran through my head as I took slow steps towards my room. Every step felt heavy

It felt like I was abandoning and betraying him if I left but I had made a promise.

Every hour felt like it went by too fast and before I knew it, it was almost time and I was sitting in the jet.

‘The sky is not dark yet.’ I keep telling myself that.

Not night. Not fully. Not enough.

My eyes stay fixed on the horizon like I could hold it there, like I can stop the sun from slipping any further just by refusing to look away. I could see that the light was fading, but it’s still there. Still clinging.

So am I.

My fingers curl against the edge of the seat, gripping harder than I mean to. I don’t loosen them. I need something to hold on to, something solid, because everything else feels like it’s slipping through me.

He said night.

Not evening. Not sunset.

Night.

“If I don’t return by nightfall, they put you on the plane.” His voice replays in my head, calm and final, like he had already decided how this would end.

I swallow, my throat tight.

You don’t get to decide that.

Not without me.

My gaze shifts, just slightly, toward the entrance of the jet. His men are still there. Quiet. Watchful. Not speaking, not moving unless necessary. They haven’t said a word to me since I got on board, but they don’t need to. We all know what they’re waiting for.

The moment the sky goes completely dark.

The moment my hope and care becomes disobedience.

My jaw tightened at the fact that I hate that he thought of everything.

Hate that he made this so… airtight.

The jet. The crew. The timing.

Me.

He accounted for me.

For what I would do. How I would react, and still I’m here.

Waiting.

Exactly where he wanted me.

“You’re insufferable.” I mutter under my breath, but it lacks heat. It always does when it comes to him, because underneath the control, and the command, I know why he did it.

‘I shouldn’t have let him go.’ The thought comes sharp, immediate as the invincible hand of fear held me by the neck, but I knew there was no “letting” Jerome do anything.

He doesn’t ask.

He decides.

And somehow… I let him do that too.

I close my eyes for a second, inhaling slowly, trying to steady the way my heart keeps racing ahead of me.

He told me what to do.

Gave me a line I couldn’t cross.

A time limit I couldn’t ignore, and the worst part?

He gave me just enough time to believe he would come back.

If he had told me to leave immediately, I wouldn’t be here, I’d have fought him.

Refused. Stayed anyway, but this…

This waiting between now and nightfall, It’s torture because I can still hope.

My eyes open again, snapping bac

k to the window.

The light is dimmer.

Not gone.

But weaker.

My pulse spikes.

How much time is left?