Chapter 22: Almost, But Never

Khai's POV

I know she's leaving today—I heard it when she took that call this morning. The reminder that she has a life waiting for her, a life that doesn't include me. But if this is the last time, then I'll make the most of it.

We tumbled out of bed in our pajamas, the warmth of last night still lingering between us. I made her breakfast—waffles, bacon, and eggs—watching the way she smiled when I placed the plate in front of her. I wanted to freeze this moment, etch it into my mind like a perfect painting.

The rest of the day felt like a dream, a carefully crafted illusion where time didn't exist. We wandered through Jackson, revisiting every corner that once held our laughter, our stolen kisses, our late-night confessions. We went boating in Ocean Springs, the salty breeze tangling in her hair as she laughed, leaning against me. We ate at our favorite diner—the same booth, the same order, the same unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, we could rewrite the ending.

But reality loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon. No matter how much we pretended, tomorrow was still coming.

Rain's POV

I checked my watch. 4:07 PM.

Time was slipping through my fingers, dragging me closer to the inevitable. I sat in the passenger seat as Khai drove me back to my hotel. The car was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from me. Every mile felt heavier, like I was being pulled away from something I wasn't ready to leave behind.

I stole a glance at her—her hands gripping the wheel, her jaw tight, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as if looking at me would make this harder. Maybe it would.

Then, without thinking, I asked, "Did you go after me? In Chicago?"

She stiffened.

Her knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, but she kept driving. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, she spoke. "I wish I did, Rain."

A lie.

Unbeknownst to her, I already knew the truth. I knew she had come for me. I knew she had fought against the chains tying her to this place, that she had tried to reach me before being dragged back into the darkness of her world.

I wanted to press her, to tell her I knew. But what difference would it make? It wouldn't change the fact that I was still leaving. That she had let me go before, and I had let myself believe she never tried.

So I stayed silent.

Instead, I reached across the console, my fingers grazing hers. She didn't pull away. And for a fleeting second, I let myself pretend that we were just two people driving home—together.

We reached the hotel, and Khai pulled into an empty spot near the entrance. Neither of us moved. We just sat there, the air thick with words left unsaid. The silence between us wasn't just silence—it was unbearable, filled with everything we wanted to say but couldn't.

Then she finally spoke, her voice low, controlled. "What time is your flight?"

"Seven," I answered, my throat tightening.

She nodded, gripping the steering wheel a little too hard. "Come on, let's get you settled. I'll drive you to the airport."

She stepped out and walked around the car, opening the door for me. I hesitated, just for a second, because stepping out meant this day was truly ending. But I forced myself to move, to ignore the way my heart clenched as I followed her inside.

In my hotel room, I packed in silence, folding clothes methodically, as if I could control the storm of emotions brewing inside me. Khai sat on the balcony, staring at the city below, lost in her own thoughts.

Then my phone buzzed. Mel.

I inhaled sharply before answering. "Hey, babe."

"Hey," she greeted, her voice light. "Are you getting ready?"

"Yeah, almost done packing."

"Okay. Text me when you're boarding. I love you."

I swallowed. My fingers tightened around the phone. I could feel Khai's presence just behind me, her back still turned, but I knew she heard.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I will."

I ended the call and stood there for a moment, gripping the edge of my suitcase.

Then, slowly, I turned to face Khai.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressing my face against her back, inhaling deeply—memorizing every bit of her scent, the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing.

And then it happened.

The dam broke.

Tears spilled freely, soaking into the fabric of her shirt as silent sobs wracked my body. I clung to her like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Because she was.

But she didn't flinch. She didn't turn around. She just let me cry against her, let me hold on as if I had the right to. As if this moment could stretch into forever.

The weight of reality pressed down on me. I had to go. I had someone waiting for me. Someone who loved me.

But right now?

Right now, I just wanted to stay here.

After a few moments of crying, she slowly turned to face me. Her hands gently cupped my face, her touch soothing, grounding me in this fleeting moment.

"Hey," she whispered softly, her voice barely a breath. "Everything will be okay."

She pulled me closer, her lips pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, and then enveloped me in her arms. I buried my head against her chest, letting the warmth of her embrace calm my racing heart.

"I love you, Rain," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I always have, and I always will."

Those words cut through me like a blade, tearing my heart to pieces all over again. But before I could respond, she pulled away, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Okay, it's 5:54 already. Let's get going before I change my mind," she said, forcing a small, controlled smile. But her eyes... her eyes betrayed her. I saw the tears she didn't want me to see, the ones she was desperately trying to hide.

We gathered my things, my hand luggage, and as we moved toward the door, she stopped me once more.

"Rain," she said, her voice cracking slightly. I looked up to see the tears brimming in her eyes, the weight of goodbye pulling at her.

She pulled me into another tight hug, one that spoke volumes without words. This was it. This would be the last time we were together like this. Because who knew what would happen next? Maybe I'd be married to someone else, or she'd have moved on to someone new. The future was a blur of uncertainty, but in this moment, all I could feel was the ache of her arms around me, holding me one last time.

As I checked out of the hotel, I noticed Khai loading my things into her car. The drive to the airport was unusually smooth, the usual heavy traffic nonexistent, as if the universe was making this moment just a little more surreal—like it was confirming that we were indeed parting ways.

We arrived at the airport in no time. She parked her car, the engine still humming softly in the silence between us.

"I have something to give you," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Something I didn't get the chance to give you when we were together."

Her hands fumbled as she reached into the glove box, pulling out a small, velvet box. My heart immediately began to race, a mix of anticipation and dread pooling in my chest. She handed it to me with a soft exhale.

"I was supposed to give this to you... I went after you, Rain," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

I froze, unable to move, her words hitting me harder than I expected. She continued, each word heavier than the last.

"I went after you in Chicago, but Aunt Joanne said you were already married. So... I let it go. But please don't get mad at her. She just wants the best for you." Her voice faltered for a moment, but she took a deep breath and pushed through. "I tried to reach out to you, even before the Azotea Project. But Therese told me you were with someone else. I didn't stop, though. Not really. The moment I closed the deal for the Azotea Project, I made sure one of the board members insisted your firm handle it. I wanted to see you again."

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. She paused, her own eyes betraying the pain she'd kept hidden for so long.

"I'm not telling you this to make you change your mind or anything. I just... I need you to know. Just in case I don't have the chance to say it again."

And then, without thinking, I pulled her into a tight hug, feeling the weight of everything we'd been through, everything we could never have. In that moment, all I could do was hold on, wishing that somehow, things could have been different. But deep down, I knew. This was the end. And I couldn't stop it.

I jumped out of the car before I could second-guess myself. I had to do this. I had to leave. I grabbed my handbag and luggage, my hands trembling slightly as I moved. Khai was already out of the car too, but I didn't turn to face her. I couldn't. If I did, I knew I would change my mind and stay.

As I walked toward the airport gate, I kept my eyes ahead, ignoring the pit in my stomach. But I could feel her presence behind me, her footsteps close. I was almost at the security check when I glanced through the glass walls of the terminal. There she was. She stopped, standing still, watching me. The sight of her was like a punch to my chest, and for a split second, everything inside me broke.

I couldn't keep walking. I couldn't just leave her like this.

Without thinking, I ran back toward her, pulling her into me with a fierce urgency. I kissed her deeply, not caring who was watching, needing to feel her one last time. The kiss was a mix of desperation and love, the kind that comes with knowing it's the end.

When I finally pulled away, my voice cracked as I spoke. "Damn, Khai, I wish things were different. I wish you'd given me the ring... Things between us could've been so different."

I looked into her eyes one last time, and the weight of it all settled in. I turned away, forcing myself to walk toward the gate. This time, I didn't look back. Because if I did, I knew I'd never leave.

After a long, exhausting flight, I finally touched down in Illinois. The familiar hum of the airport was a stark contrast to the quiet moments I'd spent in Jackson, and it hit me hard. I hailed a cab to my apartment, my mind still clouded by the memories of Khai, her touch, her words. The ache in my chest felt like it would never go away.

The moment I arrived at the airport, my phone buzzed, and it was Mel, her cheerful face lighting up the screen. She wasted no time asking how the wedding had gone, already starting to discuss our next vacation plans, but I couldn't bring myself to respond with enthusiasm. Her excitement felt like a distant echo, a world I wasn't a part of anymore.

"How was it, babe? Everything go smoothly?" she asked, but I could barely find the strength to smile.

"Yeah, it was fine," I replied, my voice flat. It wasn't that I didn't care about what she was saying, but my heart was still back in Jackson. The day with Khai—the way she'd kissed me, how she'd poured out her soul—everything we had shared was now a fading dream, slipping away with each passing second.

My thoughts wandered back to that moment at the airport, when I left her standing there, the longing in her eyes still haunting me. Could I have done things differently? Should I have stayed? The guilt gnawed at me, but I had no answers.

As the cab pulled up to my apartment, I could barely even focus on Mel's chatter. I told her I'd update her soon, then hung up, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me as I stepped out of the car.

The moment I walked into the apartment, Hope, my dog, rushed over to greet me, tail wagging wildly. I bent down to pet her, but the joy of seeing my furry companion was momentarily dulled by the hollowness I felt inside.

Aunt Joanne was in the living room, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. "How's the wedding, sweetie?" she asked with a warm smile.

I paused for a moment, gathering myself. "It was... okay," I said, keeping my tone neutral. It was all I could muster. The truth was, it felt like a lifetime ago—like the wedding had happened to someone else. The weight of what I had left behind in Jackson overshadowed everything else.

I walked past Aunt Joanne and headed straight to my bedroom without saying another word. The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, closing my eyes.

Then, the thought hit me—Khai's words about Aunt Joanne, the way she had told me that she was the one who said I was already married. I didn't know what to make of it. I wanted to confront her, demand the truth, but I couldn't. Not after everything. Not after what she had done to me.

Instead, I just stood there, in the silence of my room, the weight of everything sinking in. There was no escaping the truth now. And no matter how much I tried to numb the pain, I couldn't forget Jackson—or Khai.