Chapter 21: Longing

The walk home felt longer than it should have. Each step dragged against the pavement, the faint chill in the evening air biting at my skin.

The streetlights buzzed softly overhead, casting pale lights against the empty sidewalks. Everything was too quiet, quiet enough to count the seconds between breaths.

When I finally reached our home, I hesitated at the door.

For a second, I almost expected to hear her voice. To feel her presence on the other side. But when I pushed it open, there was nothing.

A feeling crept over me, soft and slow, a warmth. The kind that hollows you out, raising your hairs, leaving you achingly aware of the emptiness it fills.

No soft hum of the TV. No lights from the kitchen. Just the distant tick of the clock and the faint scent of beer still lingering in the air.

I shut the door behind me and slipped off my shoes, the sound echoing too loud in the empty space.

I dragged myself to my room, barely feeling the floor beneath my feet. My body ached, not from the walk, but from everything else. From the press of the spine that hindered me since that accident. Since everything broke apart.

I fell onto the bed with a dull thud, the mattress barely giving beneath me. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. My arms felt heavy. My whole body did. I missed her. I missed both of them.

Nora wasn’t there to lend me her shoulder either. I didn’t get to spend much time with her since… everything happened. The only moments we really shared were when the day was over, when she’d curl up beside me at night with a needy greed.

Maybe it was easier that way. Maybe she was trying to keep herself together.

But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could.

I turned onto my side, curling into myself, but the ache didn’t go away. It clung to me, pressing down on my still aching spine. I shut my eyes tight against the empty room, wishing for something to fill that silence.

The stillness felt like drowning riptide, dragging me in its waves. I turned over, facing the empty side of the bed, where Nora should’ve been.

My fingers drifted toward her pillow, brushing against the soft fabric. The faintest trace of her scent lingered there. It clung to me as I pulled the pillow closer, pressing my face into it. It wasn’t her, but it was the closest thing I had.

I held it tighter, arms curling around it like I could convince myself she was still here. That if I just held on long enough, I’d feel her warmth again. But there was nothing. Just the cold stretch of an empty bed and the desire that wouldn’t leave.

The loneliness was sinking deeper, heavier with every hour. My thoughts drifted back to the accident, no matter how much I tried.

If I had just kept my mouth shut, if I hadn’t pushed Dorian like that, none of it would have happened. The crash, the hospital, Cassandra lying there, silent, unmoving. It was all because of me.

If I wasn’t here, if I had never been part of their family, maybe everything would still be normal. Maybe they’d be happy. Maybe none of this would have happened.

But now, with Dorian gone, how were we supposed to handle any of this? The weight of it all began to press down harder. How would we survive? How would we pay for the hospital bills? Keep the house? Take care of Nora’s future?

I had to stand on my own feet. I couldn’t keep drifting, hoping things would fix themselves. Not when everything was unraveling.

But the truth was, I knew next to nothing about this world. I had gotten by on luck and the illusion that I could figure things out as I went along.

Deep down, I’d clung to the secret thought that the fragments of my past life… those hazy, half-formed memories, would be enough to guide me. Like they held some hidden advantage I could always fall back on.

But the truth was I couldn’t rely on it, not in this different world. Without proper education, without any real foundation, I was stumbling blind.

Every unfamiliar word on a form, every conversation about the future that slipped past my understanding, it all made the gap between me and the rest of the world feel wider.

And yet, I had to do something. For Nora. For Cassandra. If I didn’t, who else would?

I couldn’t afford to be useless anymore. Not when they needed me.

~~~

The faint clink of the front door opening cut through the emptiness in the house. My heart lurched in my chest.

I shoved her pillow aside, wiping at my face as I pushed myself up. My pulse thudded in my ears while I sat there, every muscle tense, waiting, hoping for her to come in.

Footsteps padded softly down the hall. My breath hitched. The door creaked open.

When I saw her, my chest ached. Her hair was a little messy, her bag sliding off her shoulder.

Dark circles lined her eyes. But the moment her gaze landed on me, something changed. The exhaustion faded, replaced by a lively warmth.

“Markus…” Her voice trembled slightly, and before I could say anything, she dropped her bag to the floor and rushed to me.

Her arms wrapped around me, tight and desperate. She pressed her face against my cheek, fingers curling along my body as if we’d not met for centuries.

“I missed you,” she whispered, the words thick with emotion. “I missed you so much…”

I let out a shaky breath, my arms sliding around her. The ache inside me eased at the feeling of her in my arms again.

The sound of her breathing was the only thing keeping the weight off my chest. I didn’t realize how much I’d been craving this.

“I missed you too,” I murmured against her hair, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. But it was the raw truth.

Her hold on me didn’t loosen, if anything, it grew tighter. I didn’t want her to let go either.

For a moment, I just let myself sink into it. The warmth of her arms. The quiet comfort that came with knowing someone was here. Someone who still cared.

We settled down on the bed after a while, the strain from the day still clinging to her body. Nora sat between my legs, her back resting against my chest as I let my hands trail up to her shoulders.

She felt tense as I worked my fingers gently into the tight muscles, kneading the knots I found on the shoulders.

A soft hum slipped from her lips, her head tilting slightly to the side, offering more of herself to my touch. "You always know where to press," she murmured, the edge in her voice softening into something more relaxed.

I smiled faintly against her hair. "Maybe because you’re always this tense."

She snorted, leaning back a little more. "Can you blame me?"

Her hand drifted down, brushing against my knee as she spoke again. "So… what do you want for dinner?" Her tone was lighter now, like she was trying to pull us back into the ordinary. "I could make something, unless you want to order in."

"Order in sounds easier," I said after a beat, still working slow circles into her shoulders. "Maybe noodles or something."

"Mmm, noodles," she repeated, her voice drifting lazily. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue."

I chuckled under my breath, letting the warmth of her laughter relax me a little. The rest of dinner went just like that. Idling, comforting, seeking each other’s presence, like moths to a flame.

But beneath that warmth, there was something else… something wanting to let my thoughts out. I had to say it. If I didn’t now, I wasn’t sure I ever would.

I took a deep breath, letting it settle in. Right as I finally decided to speak up.

“Nora…” I hesitated, swallowing back the lump rising in my throat. “I… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her tired eyes softening, curious. “What is it?”

I searched her face, with a deep breath, I spoke. "I know things have been hard. With everything that’s happened. And I-" My voice faltered for a moment. "I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying this alone."

Her brow furrowed slightly, and she tilted her head. "I’m not," she said, but the faint strain in her voice told a different story. "You’re here. That’s all that matters."

I forced a smile, though my chest felt heavier. "I know, but… I want to do more. For you. For Mom." My throat tightened at the mention of her. "I want to be better, Nora. I need to be better."

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“And…” I took a shaky breath, bracing myself. "I want to go to school."

The warmth in her expression vanished, replaced by something colder. Stiffer. "What?"

I pulled away slightly, trying to steady myself under the weight of her gaze. "I need to start doing something. I can’t just sit here while everything’s falling apart."

Her body tensed in my arms, her fingers twitching against my sleeves. “Why now?” Her voice was light. Like she was trying to brush it off, trying to make it seem like nothing. "You’re fine here, aren’t you? You don’t need to leave."

If you stay, I can keep you close. I can keep you safe.

I shook my head, trying to push down the unease crawling up my spine. "I can’t stay like this forever. I… I want to learn. I want to help. I have to do something, Nora."

Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing as she searched my face. “You don’t need a degree for that,” she argued, her voice still too calm, too smooth. "You already have us. You don’t need to go anywhere else."

You don’t need anyone else. You have me.

I exhaled slowly, trying to hold onto the fragile resolve I had left. "It’s not just about that," I said quietly. "I want to stand on my own feet. For once."

Her hands slipped from my arms, curling into small fists at her sides. “But you’re not ready,” she said, and there was an edge to her words now. “You’ve barely recovered. What if something happens to you?”

What if I’m not there to stop it?

“I’ll manage,” I said, the words feeling heavier than they should. "I have to."

The air between us thickened, every second dragging against my skin. She was quiet, and that silence felt louder than anything she could’ve said.

“You’re already doing enough,” she tried again, her voice softer now. Almost pleading. "Isn’t that enough for you?"

Why isn’t that enough? Why am I not enough?

I couldn’t answer her. Not when every thought in my head screamed that it wasn’t, not anymore.

Nora's face softened, just barely. As if she thought her words might finally be enough to pull me back. But then, in the quiet, she said something that made my breath hitch.

“You keep talking about what you need to do," her voice was gentle, coaxing. "But what about us? What about our future?"

Our future.

The words crawled under my skin, lodging themselves deep where I couldn’t shake them loose.

“You don’t need to run off to find some purpose," she continued, taking a small step closer. "You already have one here. With me. With…”

Her voice faltered, just for a moment, and in that sliver of hesitation, I heard something else… something cold, something that didn’t belong to her.

"With our children."

The whisper slithered through my mind like a blade, cutting deep. It wasn’t her voice, it couldn’t be, but it sounded so much like it.

A sharp, searing pain stabbed through my skull, so fierce and sudden that my knees buckled beneath me. I barely caught myself before hitting the floor. My breath hitched in my throat, heart pounding wildly as the edges of my vision blurred.

“Markus!” Nora’s voice snapped through the haze, panic lacing her tone. She was at my side in an instant, her hands gripping my shoulders, steadying me as my body trembled. "What’s wrong? Hey- hey, breathe. Just breathe, okay?"

I tried. I tried to focus, to do what she said, but my thoughts were unraveling, twisting in ways I couldn’t control. The room around me warped and stretched, and for one terrifying second, I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.

"Our children." The whisper echoed again, curling against my ears like poison.

No. No, that wasn’t real. That wasn’t-

“I… I’m fine,” I choked out, though the words barely felt like mine. My fingers dug into my temples as if I could claw the pain out by force. "I just-just need a second."

“You’re not fine,” she snapped, the brittle edge to her voice breaking through my panic. “You’re shaking. What’s happening? Talk to me!”

I sucked in a sharp breath, willing my lungs to work properly again. The pressure behind my eyes throbbed mercilessly, but I forced myself to lift my head, meeting her gaze.

Her face was pale, her lips parted with worry, but beneath it, beneath the fear. There was something else, something… possessive.

And for one terrifying second, I couldn’t tell if it was really her.

“I’m okay,” I repeated, the lie bitter on my tongue. "I just… I think I need to sit down."

Without hesitation, she guided me to the bed, her hands never leaving me. Her touch was warm -too warm, but I clung to it anyway, desperate for something real to anchor me.

Her fingers brushed against my hair as she eased me down, her eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "Is it your head again?" she asked quietly. "Is it from the accident?"

I nodded faintly, even though I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what was happening to me. But I knew I couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell anyone… about the voice. About the things it said.

Because if I did… I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to escape it.