Chapter Three

Raelynn

By eighteen, I had become very good at lying to myself. Not big lies. Small survivable ones. Like I’m over him. Or this doesn’t hurt anymore. Or my personal favourite maybe this time will be different.

That last one should’ve legally counted as self-harm.

Asrael was leaving in three weeks. Three weeks.

After graduation, he’d accepted a position overseas through his father’s company. London first. Then maybe New York. Maybe somewhere else after that.

Every conversation around him had become filled with excitement. Future. Movement. Meanwhile, I felt strangely left behind already. Like everyone else had received instructions for growing up except me.

“You’re sulking.”

I looked up from the kitchen counter to find Asrael watching me with amusement.

“I’m existing.”

“Dramatically.”

“I learned from Rhett.”

“Tragic influence.”

He walked past me toward the fridge sleeves rolled to his elbows again. That tiny detail still ruined my emotional stability after all these years. Embarrassing. Truly embarrassing.

Outside, late summer sunlight spilled gold across the backyard. Rhett had people over again. Normal afternoon. Normal conversation.

Asrael grabbed a bottle of water before glancing at me again.

“You’ve been weird lately.”

My laugh escaped too quickly. “What a horrifying thing to say to someone.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well, maybe I’m evolving.”

“Into what?”

“A threat.”

That earned a laugh. I wondered if he knew how easily he occupied space inside people. Probably not. People like Asrael rarely understood their own gravity.

“You excited to leave?” I asked carefully.

His expression shifted slightly.

“A little.”

Only a little? That surprised me.

“You don’t sound convincing.”

He leaned against the counter beside me.

“I think it just hasn’t fully hit me yet.”

I nodded slowly. Because it had hit me. Repeatedly. Violently. Like emotional blunt-force trauma. The thought of him leaving made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t explain without sounding insane. No more him.

Eight years of loving someone and suddenly the universe expected me to continue existing normally afterward. Cruel.

“You’ll be fine without me,” he said casually.

That sentence irritated me instantly.

“Oh, obviously. I’ll throw a celebration actually.”

“I knew you secretly hated me.”

“I tolerate you at best.”

“Heartbreaking.”

I smiled despite myself.

And there it was again. That ease between us. Maybe that was why I could never let go. Nothing between us ever felt forced. Not the conversations. Not the teasing. Not the silence. Loving him had become stitched into ordinary moments so deeply that removing it felt impossible. Like trying to separate thread from fabric after years.

“Asrael?”

“Hm?”

The question sat heavily in my throat. I already knew this was a terrible idea. My brain knew. My dignity knew. Unfortunately, my heart had the survival instincts of roadkill.

“When you leave…” I paused. “Do you think you’ll miss me?”

He looked genuinely startled.

“Of course I will.”

“No, I mean…” I stared down at my hands. “Specifically me.”

The air changed. Slightly. Asrael went quiet. And suddenly I hated myself. Because here we were again. Same conversation. Different year. God, I was pathetic.

“Rae…”

There it was. That tone again. Soft. Careful. Merciful. The verbal equivalent of being escorted gently toward rejection. I laughed weakly before he could continue.

“You know what? Never mind.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Pretending you don’t mean something after saying it.”

I looked away immediately.

Outside, someone cannonballed into the pool. People screamed. Music blasted louder. Inside the kitchen, everything felt painfully still. Then I made my third mistake.

“I still love you.”

The words fell out quietly. Asrael stared at me. And for one heartbeat, hope flickered again. Then he exhaled slowly and stepped closer. Not close enough to touch. Just enough to break me politely.

“Raelynn,” he said softly, “you’re eighteen.”

I laughed once. Sharp. Humourless.

“That excuse is getting old.”

His expression tightened immediately.

“It’s not an excuse.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked frustrated for the first time in years. Not angry. Never angry. Just trapped.

“I care about you.”

There it was again. The sentence that never meant enough.

“But not like that,” I finished quietly.

Silence. And silence can be an answer too. Something inside me finally sagged tiredly. Not shattered this time. Just exhausted. Like my heart had been knocking on a locked door for years and finally realized nobody lived there. Asrael rubbed a hand over his face before speaking carefully.

“You deserve someone who can give you the same feelings back.”

I smiled faintly.

“That’s a very kind way of saying no.”

His eyes softened instantly. God. I wished he’d stop looking at me like that. Like I was something fragile he didn’t want to damage. Too late for that.

“You’re going to meet people,” he continued gently. “Real people. And one day you’re gonna look back at this and wonder why you ever liked me so much.”

The terrifying thing was, he truly believed that. I nodded because I couldn’t trust my voice anymore. And because I finally understood something awful. Asrael wasn’t rejecting me because he was cruel. He was rejecting me because he simply did not love me. And there was nothing in the world more helpless than that.

Three weeks later, he left.

Before getting into the car, Asrael pulled me into a hug.

“You’ll take care of yourself?” he asked softly.

I nodded against his shoulder.

“Good.”

And then he smiled at me. That same stupid smile that had ruined my life since I was eight years old. Then he left. And somehow the world kept moving afterward. Cruel again.

While he was away, I tried dating but nothing ever felt right. The guys always felt a bit too much or less that what I wanted. Asrael. I knew it was a bad idea but I was so determined to find a new love interest. Someone that actually liked me back and didn’t just see me as his best friends sister or didn’t care about how I felt. God, I felt hopeless.

As much as I wanted to get help, I didn’t know who to turn to. If I went to Rhett, he’d either one, not take me seriously. Or he would make fun of me and just the thought of that happening depressed me. And if I went to Maddie, she would try and set me up with lousy dated just for the fun of it.

What a horrid social circle I had.

I tried talking to mom and she thought Asrael was right and I would just outgrow the feelings. Why was she always on his side? And what was so wrong with liking him? I didn’t want to get over him, where would I have found someone like him?

“You’re about to join college and soon after that you’ll start working. You’ll be so busy that you won’t have time to think about him,” mom advised me.

I really wanted to believe what she said and I did. It worked and I wasn’t thinking much about him. But soon enough, it became non-effective since he and Rhett would do video calls almost everyday.

Four years later, Asrael Kerrigan came home. And I still loved him.

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