CHAPTER 73
ARIA
I stayed rooted in place long after Dr. Evers vanished, unable to make sense of anything, my body locked while the city carried on around me like nothing had happened.
When my legs finally obeyed, it felt like walking through thick water—each step heavy, slow, unnatural.
The rain sliced down in icy needles, soaking through my clothes, dripping into my hair, crawling cold down my spine.
Snow clung stubbornly to the pavement, half-melted into slush that stuck to my shoes, but I barely registered it.
All I felt was the ache in my chest, sharp and endless, and the suffocating knot of despair pulling tighter with every breath.
Tears blurred the world around me.
I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t swallow them down.
My mind was a mess of broken thoughts spinning too fast, colliding and tangling until I couldn’t tell one from the other.
What was real anymore?
What was just my imagination?
If Lian was still alive—if Dr. Evers truly had him locked away in that sterile, merciless lab—then who was the man who came to me last night?
The one whose voice unravelled me, whose presence felt like home, whose touch made me believe, for one fleeting moment, that I had him back.
If the real Lian had never walked free, never stood before me, then what was Professor Lian?
A shadow?
A copy?
A stranger wearing the shape of the only person I’d ever—
My stomach twisted.
Was I clinging to a ghost?
Was I so desperate to see him again that I’d let myself fall for an illusion?
The questions tore at me, merciless.
Was I losing my grip?
Or had everything I trusted already been a lie?
I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, the sobs ripping out of me anyway.
The rain drowned me, the snow bit into my skin, and still, nothing hurt as much as the thought that I no longer knew who he was—or if he’d ever really been mine at all.
The tears ran freely, mingling with the rain and snow, carving tracks down my cheeks I barely felt, each sob tearing something deeper inside me.
Every inch of my body felt like it was being ripped apart by invisible knives, my muscles screaming, my heart pounding in frantic, uneven rhythms that made my vision swim.
I stumbled blindly, dragging my feet through the slush, my thoughts fracturing with panic.
I couldn’t think straight—I couldn’t even think at all.
My chest felt like it was caving in, every beat of my heart a frantic hammer that made the world tilt and blur.
The rain and snow melted together, dizzying spots in my vision, and my legs gave way beneath me, and for a second I felt myself going down—helpless, the world tilting sideways.
A broken sound tore from my throat.
And then—arms.
Strong, steady arms caught me before I hit the ground, pulling me back against a solid chest.
My breath caught, my whole body rigid as warmth cut through the cold for the first time in what felt like forever.
I didn’t dare move.
Didn’t dare look.
My heart hammered so hard it hurt, caught between terror and the impossible hope that somehow—somewhere it was him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid to look, my lips trembling around..
“Lian…”
It was barely more than a breath, a prayer, a desperate whisper that clung to the storm.
Couldn’t face the truth if it wasn’t him.
My chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, the world holding still in that fragile, impossible moment.
And then, with a trembling breath, I whispered one more silent plea—please, let it be him—and forced my eyes open.
Golden eyes.
Fierce, wild, and yet soft—eyes I knew, eyes that haunted me even in dreams.
They burned into mine, full of something raw and unspoken, something that felt achingly like home.
“Aria…”
My name, breathed out in a hoarse, broken voice that wrapped around me like warmth against the storm.
Helplessness.
Compassion.
A kind of aching tenderness that made my throat close.
And then—so gentle it undid me—his lips brushed my forehead.
The world went silent.
The cold, the storm, the confusion—all of it fell away, leaving only that fleeting touch.
My body surrendered, my eyes fluttered shut, and I slipped into darkness in his arms.
......
When I woke, the world was warm and soft.
Steam curled in the air, rising in lazy tendrils. I was in a bath—warm water lapping gently at my skin, chasing away the chill that had settled deep in my bones.
Water lapped softly against my skin as I realised I was lying in a bathtub, someone’s careful hands moving over me, gently adjusting the temperature, rubbing warmth back into my frozen limbs.
My chest was still tight, my pulse thrumming erratically, but the scent… the scent alone was enough to make my stomach twist with a mix of hope and fear.
He was here.
He was real.
And yet, my mind recoiled.
What if this wasn’t real?
What if the storm, the grief, the weight of it all had finally splintered my mind?
What if this was nothing more than a cruel hallucination—my despair conjuring the one thing I wanted most?
My breath caught the instant my eyes focused.
He was there.
Golden eyes.
Those same eyes that had haunted me, comforted me, and destroyed me in equal measure.
Eyes I’d sworn I’d never see again.
My throat closed, the ache in my chest sharp and unbearable.
I bit my lip, my chest heaving, torn between leaning into him and recoiling in fear of finding nothing but smoke and shadows. My hands trembled above the water, aching to touch him, to prove he was real.
“Please,” I whispered, barely audible.
“Please… don’t disappear.”
His voice broke the fragile silence.
“I’m sorry…”
The words were low, hoarse, thick with something that made my throat ache.
His golden eyes held mine, guilt flickering there like firelight, and the weight of that apology settled heavily in my chest.
Sorry?
A strangled laugh almost tore out of me, but all I could manage was a whisper.
“No… no, I should be the one apologising.” My voice cracked.
“For not finding you, for not saving you, for letting you—”
The words tangled, dissolved. I pressed my trembling hands to my face, trying to hold myself together, but the dam inside me was breaking.
All this time, I’d carried the shame, the ache, the hollow nights filled with his absence.
And now here he was—close enough to touch—yet still I didn’t know if he was real.
Maybe I was still lying in the street, rain pouring down, my mind inventing this moment because I couldn’t bear the truth.
But if this was a dream, I didn’t care.
I reached for him with a desperation that startled me, my fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders, pulling him down to me.
I buried my face against his chest, breathing him in, that scent I knew, that warmth I had missed so fiercely it left me shaking.
“Please,” I whispered against him, my voice raw, almost pleading.
“Don’t leave me again. I can’t—I can’t survive losing you twice.”
My arms locked tighter around him, needing to feel the solid weight of him, the reality of skin and breath and heartbeat.
Even if this was madness, even if the world vanished when I opened my eyes again, I wanted this.
Him.
The need inside me grew unbearable—an ache not just to hold him, but to erase the distance, the years, the cold.
I lifted my face, tears still spilling, and sought him with a fierce, unsteady urgency, desperate for proof that he was truly here, desperate to feel his closeness before it could all dissolve back into nothing.