Page 84 of King of Ashes
I can hear him calling my name, hot on my trail, but I am in a trance, driven by the need to reach this elusive destination.
I come to an abrupt halt in front of wrought-iron gates. Behind them, a city mansion stretches, looking uninhabited. I wrap my fingers around the bars, reaching for the other side, watching my entire life play out while still unable to grasp it.
His breaths come in shallow exhales. My husband is not one to get winded from a quick run, adding to my turmoil.
I press the heels of my palms into my temples, desperate to align my thoughts, so done with scattered puzzle pieces and no clear picture.
This is my dream house. Mine. I feel it. I know it, even if I can’t remember it.
“Zara,” he calls my name with unmistakable agony.
“This house…” I gulp.
“What is it with this house?” His voice is barely audible, as if he doesn’t want to scare me off.
“I think he was from here. I think it was ours.”
He lets out a sound like a growl from an injured animal, but if I overcame my jealousy of his first love, he needs to deal with his too.
“I would like to go inside.”
“No,” he says vehemently.
I spin on my heel, not expecting his harsh reaction—or that this is the first time he has refused me anything.
I blink at him, not knowing which of us has the brain injury. “This is where you draw the line? Trespassing?” I huff, pointing at it. “It looks abandoned.”
His jaw sets in such a hard line it could break cement. “Looking and being are two different things. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t give me a second to process this before he grabs my hand and forces me away.
“Vian, stop,” I say, breathless by the time we reach the car.
He rakes a hand through his hair, staring at the night sky, clearly conflicted, as if the stars could provide the right answer.
“I don’t understand your reaction.”
“Stay away from that house.” His tone drops to chilly, instantly freezing me.
“Excuse me. Why?” It only makes me want to go even more.
“I built it for her.”
I stumble back, his words unbalancing me. “Oh.”
Then why does it feel like mine? Why? Why? Why?
Heavy silence envelopes the drive to the penthouse, suffocating, each of us lost in thought.
I didn’t think our night would end like this, but once again, the past spins its web around us and traps us.
We can’t escape it.
We just fool each other into believing we can.
The future is already written. The past ensured that. We simply refuse to accept it.
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