EZRA
I used to believe that there was something between us. Something unspoken, something real.
But I was a fool.
There was never a connection, just a glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes met, and I let myself believe it meant something. That he saw me, really saw me. That maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us than duty and circumstance. But it was all in my head.
Malachai never said anything. Never did anything. And why would he? I was nothing to him. Just another pawn in Lucius' game, just another body he was ordered not to touch, not to acknowledge, not to care about.
And yet, I cared. I cared in a way I had never cared for anyone before.
I liked him.
I had never liked anyone before. Not like this. Not in a way that made my chest ache and my stomach twist and my heart feel too big for my ribs. Not in a way that made me want something more, something I had never been allowed to have.
I wanted Malachai to care for me, to see me, to reach for me, to prove that I wasn't just imagining it all. But he never did.
And maybe he never felt it at all.
Maybe I had spent all this time chasing a feeling that only existed in my head. Maybe I had mistaken a look for something more, a moment of hesitation for something deeper.
I felt stupid.
Foolish.
Pathetic.
Because what kind of person convinces themselves they have something with someone who won't even meet their eyes?
I hated how much space Malachai took up in my mind. I hated that even after everything, I still searched for pieces of him in the silence, in the emptiness, in the stolen glances I could never afford to take.
But what was I even searching for? A sign? A shred of proof that I wasn't losing my mind? That what I felt wasn't one-sided, wasn't just a cruel trick of my own desperation?
It didn't matter.
Malachai had made his choice, whether he spoke it aloud or not. He had chosen silence, distance. He had chosen to be a shadow that never reached for me, never tried to break through the suffocating air between us.
And I had to accept that.
I had to force myself to forget, to carve out the parts of me that still longed for something I was never meant to have. Because the truth was brutal, merciless, and undeniable:
I was alone.
I had always been alone.
And no amount of foolish hope was going to change that.
It was just a glimpse of him that made me feel that way, everything about him made me feel safe.
I was foolish to fall in love at first sight.