45. Chapter 45

Chapter forty-five

13th May 2023

0 0.03 AM. Twelve minutes left and then that's it.

It's cold tonight. At first, I was shivering, but now I'm too drunk to feel the cold. The breeze is faint, and the night is suffocatingly dark, with the only light coming from the occasional lamppost. The only sound I can hear, besides my own uneven breathing, is the low hum of the railway lines.

I didn't plan on being here. I didn't plan on being drunk. But here I am, a prisoner to my own emotions. The heartache has become unbearable, an inescapable weight pressing down on me. I once lived in a world bursting with colour, where my future was bright, and my dreams felt within reach. The sun was always high in the sky, the birds were always singing, butterflies danced around me in circles, and flowers bloomed in every corner. But now…the sun has turned to rain, the birds have fallen silent, the butterflies have disappeared, and the flowers—oh, the flowers—have withered and died, just like my heart.

I stand on the edge of the platform, jeans clinging to my legs, leather jacket doing little to ward off the chill. In my hand is a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels. I stare across the empty platform at the clock, watching the minutes slip away.

Nothing feels right anymore. My sense of direction, my dreams, my goals, the love that once made my world so bright—it's all gone. I don't know what I have left, except for Meatball. He'll be fine without me. He hates me anyway. It's not like he'll miss me. He'll find someone else to love, someone who can give him the care and the affection he deserves—someone like Laelia.

It's been three days since the funeral. Three days since I last felt anything other than this crushing despair. I've done nothing but drink, trying to numb the pain, but it never works. Every time I think of the future, all I see is darkness. The constant headache from the accident, the cracked ribs that are slowly healing—those wounds are nothing compared to the gaping hole in my heart. Nothing else will heal. Not my soul, not my heart, not my shattered world.

This is my life now. Pain and suffering. Grief for one thing I will never have again, the one thing I lost because I fucked up. I should have been more careful, paid more attention. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't. I did this myself. I'm the one to blame.

I raise the bottle to my lips, taking another burning sip, and think of her. The way the sun lit up her hair, the way her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and her smile—oh, her smile—could take my breath away. She was everything good in this world, everything I loved and more. If I could trade my life for hers and our child's, I would in a heartbeat. They should be here, not me. They deserve to live. I deserve the pain because I caused it.

00.13am. Not long now.

I stand on the edge, waiting for the train. I close my eyes and hear her voice—soft, warm, comforting, like home. Soon, I'll be with her again, holding her in my arms, loving her for all eternity in a place where pain no longer exists.

"Killian," I hear her say. I know it's just my mind playing tricks on me. But it sounds so real, so close.

"Killian," the voice calls again, louder this time. But it can't be real. It's just in my head.

I open my eyes and see the train's lights in the distance. I close them again, knowing it's only a matter of seconds before I take that final step. The step that will end it all.

The train pulls in, and I lift my foot, ready to move forward.

"Killian!" A voice shouts, jolting me out of my trance.

My heart races as I turn my head, and there she is—Laelia, standing next to me on the platform, holding onto my arm with a grip so tight I can feel her warmth seeping into my skin. I freeze as the train roars past, inches away.

I look down at her hand, disbelief clouding my mind. It feels so real, her touch, her presence.

"Laelia?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

She giggles, a sound so sweet, it almost breaks me. "Were you expecting someone else?" she teases, and I shake my head, unable to speak.

"What's happening right now?" I ask, confusion lacing my words.

Her smile fades as she frowns, her eyebrows knitting together. "You mean, what are we doing here?"

I blink rapidly, the fog in my mind lifting slightly. I'm standing on the edge of a train platform. Why am I here?

I glance down at the bottle in my hand, feeling a wave of nausea. Why am I drinking?

I look back at Laelia, who's studying me with those eyes that always see right through me. "I'm so confused," I confess.

She steps closer, and the scent of citrus surrounds me, comforting and familiar. My heart aches, but it's a different kind of pain—one that feels almost hopeful. "Let's go home," she says softly.

I nod, still disorientated but feeling a strange sense of clarity wash over me. As I look at her, I can't help but feel as if everything I've been through—the pain, the darkness—was just a bad dream. It's like waking up to find the world hasn't crumbled; it's just been waiting for me to come back. Laelia is here, alive, and real, with the same warmth and love that I thought I'd lost forever.

As long as she's with me, I have a reason to keep breathing. Maybe that's all I needed—to remember that even in the darkest moments, there's still light, and that light is her. Everything will be fine. We'll go home together, and I'll find my way back to life, with her by my side.