Chapter 28

Faye

The soft chirping of birds echoed just outside my window, a gentle melody that blended with the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the curtains. The golden light bathed the room in a quiet glow, coaxing me awake with a tenderness that felt almost deliberate.

But what truly woke me was the steady rise and fall of Yoko's breathing against me. Her back was pressed firmly against my chest, her warmth radiating into me like a second sun. My right arm lay beneath her head, cradling her like it was the only pillow she'd ever need, our fingers laced together in a quiet promise neither of us was willing to break.

This feels good. Waking up like this, right next to you.

A soft smile tugged at my lips. I leaned in, nuzzling the top of her head with the tip of my nose. Her hair smelled like fresh rain mingled with something sweet—maybe her shampoo, maybe just her. I breathed it in, letting it settle in my chest like it belonged there. She stirred, letting out the smallest, sleepiest hum before turning over to face me, her eyes still heavy with dreams.

"Morning, Darling," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Her skin was warm, like sunlit silk.

"Good morning," she murmured back, her voice husky with sleep, each word laced with tenderness.

Her eyes fluttered open, honey-brown and a little dazed, but when they met mine, she smiled. That smile. It had the power to make everything—every worry, every doubt—disappear like fog under the sun.

We stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled beneath the blanket, exchanging warmth and quiet affection. No words were needed. Just the soft press of her nose against my collarbone, the brush of her fingers against my palm, the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing syncing like it always did.

How is it that you make the world feel so quiet and full at the same time?

But peace, as always, had its limits.

Her phone alarm buzzed faintly from the bedside table, shattering the stillness with its shrill reminder of reality.

"Ohh..." she groaned, burying her face against my neck like she could hide from it. "I don't wanna leave this bed..." Her voice was muffled but filled with that soft, sleepy whine that made me grin.

She wriggled closer, as if clinging to the last few seconds of peace before the world called her away.

"Come on," I said, gently patting her back with slow, coaxing taps. "If you don't get up now, you're going to be late."

"Nooo..." she whined again, drawing it out like a stubborn child. She peeked up at me, her pout exaggerated but adorable, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on," I repeated, a little more firmly this time. I squeezed her hand before letting go, already feeling the absence of her warmth as I sat up. "I'll drop you off at the café."

Her sigh was long and dramatic, like she was bidding farewell to the greatest love of her life—our bed. But she moved anyway, slowly peeling herself away from me. It's the small victories.

Even though we both knew it had to be done, part of me still hated letting her go. There was a unique ache in those moments of separation, like pulling apart two pieces of a puzzle that had fit perfectly together.

Still, I got up and headed to the kitchen, whipping up a quick sandwich for her while she washed up.

She sat at the dining table, hair still slightly tousled from sleep, looking like the human embodiment of "home." When I placed the sandwich in front of her, she lit up like I'd served her a three-course meal.

"Thanks, babe," she said, grinning wide before taking a giant bite, cheeks puffed like a hamster.

She chewed happily, swaying side to side like she was eating something that was just that good. I watched her, my chest filling with a warmth that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

You don't even realise how dear you are to me, do you?

She glanced up, still chewing, and caught me staring. "What?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Nothing," I said, turning away before she caught me smiling too hard.

On the drive to the café, the quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was peaceful, like the hum of a favourite song playing in the background. Yoko sat next to me, tapping idly on her phone until she glanced up and spoke.

"By the way, my dad's back," she said casually, but there was something softer in her voice when she mentioned him. "I'll be spending tonight with him."

"Yeah?" I glanced at her, nodding with understanding.

"That's good. You should." I shifted gears smoothly as we approached a red light. "We'll have plenty of time next week. Go spend time with him."

Her eyes lingered on me, and I could feel her gaze more than see it. "Will you miss me?"

I raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft laugh. "Why would I?" I glanced her way just as the light turned green. "We'll see each other on Monday, right?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'll see you on Monday."

When we pulled up to the café entrance, she turned to me with a grin so wide it nearly crinkled her eyes shut. Her face was practically glowing, all bright energy and soft warmth, like she'd just stored every bit of love I'd given her for safekeeping.

"I'll see you on Monday," she chirped, her voice light and full of something I could only describe as happiness.

"See you Monday," I replied, my heart tugging just a little as she opened the door. "Have a good weekend."

She turned back to smile at me one last time before stepping out, her movements light, like she was walking on clouds. I watched her walk into the café, her pace quick but lively, her hands waving animatedly as she greeted the coffee shop owner.

I stayed for just a moment longer than necessary, watching as she was met with a cheerful grin from the owner. They started chatting, their energy electric even from afar.

I smiled to myself, letting the moment linger for just a few more seconds.

Then I shifted the car into drive and pulled away.

But the warmth of her stayed with me the whole way home.

When I returned home, the space felt quiet but not empty. There was warmth in it—something invisible yet unmistakable.

Maybe it was the lingering scent of Yoko, faint but familiar, like she'd left behind a piece of herself in the air. Or maybe it was just her presence, still holding the space together even when she wasn't physically here.

I set my things aside, glancing around the room. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, dappling the floor in patches of soft gold. The cushions on the couch were a little lopsided, just the way Yoko always left them. The kitchen counter had her half-finished glass of water from this morning. Little traces of her everywhere.

How fulfilling it is, I thought, to have a place to call home with the person you love.

A small, unbidden smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I used to think "home" was just a space—four walls, a roof, a shared bed. Back then, I believed life was about finding someone you could grow old with, someone to return to at the end of every day. I really thought I'd found that with Allison.

We had the place, we had the plan, and I thought that was enough. But she proved me wrong.

When she left, she didn't just take herself away. She took that belief with her.

After that, I convinced myself that I wasn't built for love.

That I was meant to watch from the sidelines as everyone else celebrated theirs. Weddings, anniversaries, couple trips—I was sure none of it was for me. I'd scroll past pictures of happy couples and think, Good for them, but that's not for me.

But then fate decided it wasn't done with me yet. It had one last twist to make.

It brought Yoko.

She didn't arrive like a lightning bolt or some grand, sweeping force of nature. No, she came like a quiet sunrise, her light creeping in slowly, warmly, without me even noticing until it was everywhere.

She didn't demand that I believe in love again. She just... existed beside me. Her kindness, her patience, the way she never needed to be anything more than herself—she made me realise that not everyone in this world is out to hurt you.

She made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could try again.

And somehow, in trusting her, I was given something I'd thought I'd never have again—a home.

But not the kind I used to chase. Not four walls and a shared bed. It was her. Her laughter filled the room. Her words are packed with sincerity written for me. Her warmth beside me at night, fitting against me like she'd always belonged there.

This was the home I'd been searching for all along.

I drew in a slow breath, letting it settle in my chest. It didn't feel heavy like it used to. It felt light, calm, full.

After throwing together a simple lunch—just rice and leftover stir-fry—I settled onto the couch, letting the soft hum of the TV fill the quiet. Some sitcom was playing, the canned laughter rising and falling in predictable waves. It wasn't particularly funny, but it didn't need to be.

I leaned back into the cushions, letting myself sink in, eyes half-watching the screen.

And for the first time in a long, long while, I didn't feel alone.

Not even a little.

I glanced at the clock. Engfa should be here soon.

Knock knock.

Speaking of the devil.

I grinned, already hearing her footsteps before she knocked. I walked over to the door and swung it open.

"Water?" I asked as she breezed past me, letting herself in like she owned the place.

"Ice water, Faye. ICE," she huffed dramatically, swiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. "God, this period is the absolute worst. It's hot everywhere, and I swear the sun is beefing with me personally."

I chuckled, shaking my head as I moved to the kitchen. "Hang in there, lawyer. Time will pass quickly. Spring's just around the corner."

"Spring, huh?" she muttered, fanning herself with both hands like she was about to faint.

I returned with a glass of ice water, pressing it into her palm. "Here. Emergency relief package."

"Bless you," she said, gulping it down in three long sips, pausing only to breathe.

"So..." she began, setting the glass down with a light thud. Her gaze sharpened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What's the matter? Why'd you call me?"

Straight to the point. Engfa never wasted time on small talk.

I hugged a cushion close to my chest, my fingers tracing the edge of the fabric. My throat felt tight, like the words I needed to say had gotten stuck on the way up. But I had to tell her.

"Allison," I said softly, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it was as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.

"She's..." I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay even. "She's here. At the school I'm teaching at."

Her jaw slackened, disbelief flooding her features. "What?" she blinked rapidly. "Why is she there?" she demanded, her tone caught between shock and outrage.

"I don't know," I replied, voice flat with exhaustion. "She says it's a coincidence, but I don't buy it." My fingers curled tighter around the cushion.

"I told her to leave, but of course, she played her little victim card, said leaving would 'harm her reputation.'" I snorted, shaking my head. "Unbelievable."

"Wow," Engfa breathed, eyes narrowing as she pressed her hands against her chest like she'd been personally wronged.

Her face twisted into a mix of disbelief and pure disgust. "This is some serious Narnia Chronicles, I swear. The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch!"

I burst out laughing, nearly dropping the cushion from my hands. "God, you're terrible."

"I know," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she'd just won an award for it. "But am I wrong?"

"Not even a little."

Her grin lingered for a second before she leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing with quiet seriousness.

"But seriously, Faye," she asked, her tone dipping lower. "Does she know? About you and Yoko?"

"Nope." I shook my head firmly. "We've been careful. Kept it quiet on campus." My lips pressed into a line.

Well, mostly careful, I thought to myself. But there was no point in saying it out loud.

"Good. Keep it that way," she said, nodding like she'd just given me a tactical strategy. "The last thing you need is for Miss Betrayal Bitch to sniff out your happiness and come after it."

I tilted my head at her, fighting back a grin. "And here I thought I was the paranoid one."

"Paranoia's just another word for being prepared," she quipped, waving it off. "So, what did she say to you? Like, after you told her to scram."

"She... apologised." The word tasted even worse than her name.

My shoulders tensed, and I rubbed my arm like I was trying to wipe off the residue of it. "She actually had the nerve to apologise for 'that time' like it was just one singular event."

The moment I said it, Engfa flopped onto the couch with a groan, her head lolling back like she'd just been hit by a wave of secondhand embarrassment. Then, in true dramatic flair, she threw her head forward and mimed vomiting onto the floor.

"Bleh! Gross. Disgusting." She wiped her mouth with a fake gag. "After all these years? I'm sorry, but that is not an apology. That's just guilt trying to find a place to live rent-free."

I laughed, letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Right?! Like, I can't believe she thought I'd just accept it."

"She doesn't get to rewrite history just because it makes her feel better," Engfa said, shaking her head. Her eyes flickered back to me. "But for real, are you okay?"

"I am," I said, and this time, I meant it. "I'm not giving her the power to affect me. Not anymore." I leaned my head back, letting it rest on the cushion.

My eyes closed for a moment, breathing in slowly, exhaling even slower. "She has no hold on me, Fa."

"Good." Her voice was soft now, the sharp edges gone. She nudged my knee with hers. "Does Yoko know?"

I nodded, eyes still closed. "Yeah. She knows."

Her silence pressed on me like a gentle weight, and I knew she was waiting for me to say more.

I opened my eyes slowly."That day... I had an attack. It hit me so hard, Fa." My voice wavered as I recalled it—the racing heart, the tightening chest, the way I couldn't breathe. It felt like drowning, like being dragged under with no way out. "I was drowning."

Her face softened, her playful energy gone. She shifted closer, gently taking my hands in hers.

Her thumbs rubbed small circles on the back of my hand, warm and steady. "I'm so sorry, Faye," she said softly. "But I'm glad Yoko was there. I'm glad you had her."

I smiled faintly, eyes flicking down to where our hands were joined. "She was my anchor."

Engfa nodded, letting out a small breath of relief. "It must've been hell. But you let her in."

"Yeah." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I thought she'd run." I blinked slowly, as if I could see it playing out in front of me—the old version of me, the one who expected people to leave.

"But she didn't."

She didn't.

I glanced up at Engfa, and the words fell out of me like petals from a flower that had been closed for too long.

"She stayed. She stayed through all of it. She saw me at my worst and didn't flinch. She stayed, Fa. No one apart from you has ever done that for me." My throat tightened again, but this time it wasn't from fear. It was something else. Something warmer.

She stayed with me.

"She loves you, Faye." Engfa smiled at me like she'd known it all along. "And it sounds like you love her too."

I nodded slowly. Yes. I did. I do.

"More than I knew I could," I said softly.

A warmth bloomed in my chest as I spoke the words, ones I'd buried deep for so long. "She's everything I thought I'd never have. All the tenderness I used to think was fictional? I have it now."

My gaze flickered to the kitchen, to the little glass of water she'd left behind that morning, half-full and waiting. Her presence was still here. She was still here.

For the first time, I didn't feel like I was chasing after love. I was standing in it.

Engfa left after dinner, her footsteps fading into the night until the only sound left was the faint hum of the ceiling fan. I sat there for a while, letting the stillness settle over me like a heavy blanket. The cushion I'd been hugging lay abandoned on the floor, a small reminder of the conversation we'd just shared.

I should've felt lighter after talking to Engfa. And in some ways, I did. But the hollow ache in my chest only grew sharper as the minutes passed.

I miss Yoko.

Miss her in a way that wasn't just longing—it was a slow, quiet ache, like the pull of a tide I couldn't resist.

I'd seen her this morning. She'd kissed me at the door, told me to have a good weekend, and flashed me that lopsided grin that never failed to make me feel like I'd just won a lottery I didn't even know I'd entered.

And still, here I was, craving her presence like I'd gone weeks without it.

You're being ridiculous, Faye, I told myself, rubbing at my temples. She's probably busy.

But logic had no sway over the heart. My fingers itched to reach for my phone. I'd already checked my messages three times, hoping she'd text first.

Nothing. Of course, nothing.

She's probably not the type to send a "thinking of you" text in the middle of a packed day. And I—I'm not the type to demand it.

So I settled for something quieter. I picked up my phone and opened Instagram, scrolling straight to her page.

Her feed was like a kaleidoscope of colour—bursts of sunlit blues, lush greens from weekend hikes, soft pinks from flower fields she'd visited on her trips. It was Yoko in every shade of joy, every moment of wonder she'd decided to capture and share.

No brooding, no moody monochrome shots. Her world was bright, and somehow, she'd pulled me into it too.

I scrolled slowly, savouring each image like I'd never seen them before.

Her in a yellow sundress, arms outstretched to catch the sky. Her with a paintbrush in her hand, a smudge of blue on her cheek. Her at the beach, feet half-buried in the sand, eyes squinting against the sun, her smile so wide it could've split the horizon in two.

I stopped at one photo—a candid shot of her from a year ago.

Her hair was tousled from the breeze, one hand holding back a stray strand, the other balancing a cup of iced coffee. The sun had caught on her cheekbones just right, lighting up her face like she'd swallowed the sun itself. She wasn't even looking at the camera. She was looking at something off to the side, her lips just slightly parted as if caught mid-laugh.

How could someone look so alive? I wondered, my thumb hovering over the heart icon.

I'd seen this picture a hundred times before, but tonight, it felt different. I double-tapped it. The little heart appeared, flashing bright red before fading away.

I stared at her face on the screen, my own reflection faintly visible behind it. My chest tightened with the weight of it all. I missed her so much it hurts.

And then, like fate's quiet answer to a silent prayer, my phone buzzed in my hand. I flinched, nearly dropping it.

Her name lit up my screen.

Yoko

Thinking of me?

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. My heart stumbled, then picked up a frantic rhythm. For a second, I didn't move. I just sat there, staring at the message as if it might disappear if I looked away.

A slow, uncontrollable smile stretched across my face. I pressed my fingers to my lips, like I could hold it in, but it was no use. Warmth bloomed in my chest, spilling over into every part of me.

I typed back with hands that were suddenly too unsteady to type properly.

Faye

Says who? 🙄

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, pulsing slowly, teasing me with every blink. She was typing.

Yoko

Mhm, I can feel it. Like a tug on my heart.

I exhaled through a quiet laugh, sinking further into the couch like it could swallow me whole. My cheeks were burning, and I didn't care.

Faye

Tug harder. Maybe I'll appear in front of you.

There was a pause — I imagined her smirking at her screen, thinking of a response.

Yoko

Careful, I might pull too hard and drag you right into my bed. 😏

My cheeks burned even more instantly. Heat spread through me like wildfire, and I pressed my phone to my chest, laughing at how effortlessly she could make me feel like a love-struck fool.

Faye

Empty promises, huh.

Yoko

Oh, Babe. I don't make promises. I make plans.

I felt my breath catch, a shiver dancing down my spine. My fingers hovered over the screen, heart pounding.

Faye

What a dangerous woman.

Yoko

Only for you. 😉

I bit back a smile so wide it hurt. This woman — she had me wrapped around her little finger, and I didn't even mind.

Yoko

Go to sleep, Babe. Dream of me xx.

Faye

Why dream when reality with you is better?

Another pause.

Yoko

That was smooth. I'll remember that line the next time I see you.

Faye

You better.

Her typing bubble appeared again, lingering for a moment longer this time.

Yoko

Goodnight, Don't miss me too much.

Faye

Too late. Already am and so much more. Goodnight, Darling.

And just like that, my heart felt lighter. I stared at her last message until my eyes grew heavy, letting her words fill the quiet of the room. For now, I let myself sink into the warmth of it all — the tug of love, soft and steady, just like Yoko.