Chapter 126: The number you blocked
The dying sun filtered through the translucent curtains, casting pale, golden light in the living room. Particles of dust floated in the beams like hanging concepts, wafting and glinting with each momentary shift of air. I sat on the edge of the couch, knees pulled up to chest, a book sitting open in my lap. Its pages remained unturned for over an hour. I couldn't remember a single word I had read. I just felt numb.
Silence in the villa had recently become something new—dense, expectant, like a suppressed breath.
Then the phone rang.
A staccato hum on the glass table top, jarring the quiet. I went still. My heart racing before I even reached out to it. Part of me already knew.
Another number. Another message. “Not again.” I said silently under my breath.
You can't silence love, Lily. I can't breathe without you.
His words glared up at me, black on white, easily understandable. I clamped my lips together, the ghost of his voice trailing along the inside of my skin. Same words, different day. Different count.
I turned it off without responding, as a dozen others had. My hand trembled as I placed the phone face down on the table. And yet, I couldn't erase the flush of fear that ravaged beneath my skin. The edges of my world came undone a little more with every message.
"Another one?"
The voice was behind me. I looked up to find Caspian in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw set. The sunlight caught the golden hairs in his hair, but there was nothing warm about his face.
I nodded, barely trusting my voice. "Yes."
He stepped further into the room, eyes flicking to the phone. "From him again?"
"From another number. Again." I stood up, unable to stay put under the pressure of his gaze.
Caspian's fists clenched at his hips. "Why doesn't he ever quit trying? What else have you not said, Lily?"
I moved away, walking through the room in slow stages, my bare feet silent on the wood floors. "There is nothing more. I've done everything in my power to block him out. He just… keeps coming."
His voice was lower now, tense. "Are you certain you're not giving him reason to think there's still hope?"
The words hit me in the face.
I whirled back to face him, appalled. "You think I want this?"
"That's not what I said."
"No, it's exactly what you said," I growled. "You think I'm still keeping him in on it somehow? That I like being stalked? That I want him here again?"
Caspian took a deep breath, ruffling his hair. "That's not fair, Lily. I'm just… I'm trying to figure out how to get inside his head. Why he won't leave me alone. Why this keeps going on."
"Because he's sick," I said more loudly. "Because he's obsessed. And because he knows how to push my buttons—and yours."
His face skidded. "It's working."
I stared at him, my heart pounding. "Do you not trust me?"
"I don't trust him," Caspian growled. "And maybe I don't trust you to get it right. Every time I think we're finally okay, another letter shows up. And now, just when I'm sure you'll be just as quiet as before, you're quiet again. Cutting away."
I collapsed into the couch cushions, my arms tight around myself. "You think I'm making a decision? That I want to live in fear again?"
No, he replied, coming towards me. "But I believe you're still tormented. And you're not opening up to me."
My breathing stalled.
Neither of us said anything for a moment. His eyes searched mine—pleading, angry, depleted. And I realized then that beneath his exasperation was something finer: fear.
He was afraid. Of losing me. Of watching me drift back into the darkness.
And I was afraid as well.
Afraid of what it would feel like to tell how much the messages still affected me. How they hung on the periphery of my mind, digging themselves into nightmares. How I flinched at every telephone ring.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Caspian sat beside me, close enough that his leg brushed against mine. The tension between us pulsed like something breathing.
"I don't want to fight," he whispered.
"Neither do I."
He raised his hand, his fingers brushing against mine. I let them rest there.
It was a long moment before he spoke. "Have you thought about going to the police?"
I nodded, casting my eyes down. "But unless he actually threatens me, they won't do anything. I have only messages. No sign that he is near. No threats. Only… ghost love letters."
Caspian's jaw set. "He's not a ghost. He's a parasite. And I want him out of our lives."
I looked at his eyes then, at the fierce protectiveness that glowed in them. It softened something in me. I rested my forehead against his. He shut his eyes.
"I'm tired," I breathed.
"Me too," he whispered.
We hung there for minutes, breathing each other's air, supported only by each other. But the calm did not last. Not really.
Hours later, the air between us was again cold. We wordlessly stripped. Bared teeth without a word. Got into bed and turned away from each other.
We didn't sleep. Silhouettes on the ceiling twisted into shapes I refused to recognize.
I waited for an hour. I got up. Took my blanket and pillow and crept out of the room.
The guest room was cold. Weird. I hugged the bed, refusing to cry.
But cry, I did. In a way that the tears felt really hot on my face.
And when I did, I buried my head in the pillow and let tears flow. Not only for Nathaniel. Not only for Caspian. But for all of it.
For the version of me who once believed peace was achievable.
For the gap between two hearts that loved one another so deeply—and still ached.
And for the fear that perhaps, possibly, Nathaniel had already gained more than I was willing to accept.