Chapter 164 - The Final Cry

The afternoon slipped away quicker than I expected. The sun, a glowing orange disk, leaned low over the blue ocean horizon, painting the waves with streaks of fire and gold.

A gentle breeze rolled across the shore, rustling through the coconut palms so they swayed like dancers keeping time with the music. The laughter and chatter from the party had begun to thin out, the atmosphere softening as the celebration wound down.

The bar lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the crowd gathering for one last drink before night fully claimed the sky.

We had already traded our swimsuits for semi-formal clothes. I buttoned up a crisp white long-sleeved shirt and slipped into brown slacks, still carrying a trace of salt and sand clinging to me. My friends arrived in their own styles—bright dresses, neatly pressed shirts, casual blazers—each of us half-polished but still carrying the air of a beach day.

Together we drifted toward the bar, where the sweet scent of fruit and the sharp bite of alcohol mixed in the air. As I joined the queue, fate had me standing right behind Myrrh. She had already shed her beach look and now wore a flowing white dress tied neatly with a corset, the fabric catching the faint gold of the sunset. When her eyes found mine, she lifted a hand in a quick, playful wave. I returned it with a small smile before stepping into line behind her.

“Hey, don’t drink too much, okay?” Myrrh said, wagging her finger at me with mock seriousness.

“Okay, mommy,” I answered dryly, though the corners of my lips betrayed a smirk. “Look, it’s your turn now.”

“Ah, right.” She stepped forward, giving her order with the kind of confidence that suggested this wasn’t her first time at a bar. Moments later, the bartender slid across a sparkling French 75—bubbly, golden, and elegant. The same drink she had chosen during our last “date.”

But before she could take a sip, a shadow fell across her. Ephraim appeared, clutching a crimson cocktail that looked almost as tense as his smile.

“Uh, Myrrh. Can I talk to you for a second?” His voice carried a hesitant edge, as though he was both hopeful and afraid.

Myrrh’s brow furrowed slightly, the light in her expression dimming. Then her gaze shifted to me. Her eyes lingered, wordless but heavy with meaning. Was she silently asking me to step in—to play the part of her pretend boyfriend again, to shield her from Ephraim’s approach? The thought weighed on me. Yet as much as I wanted to protect her, I knew it wasn’t my place. This was her past, her history.

And me? I was nothing more than the placeholder she sometimes leaned on. A fake boyfriend.

“Go.” I gave a small nod.

For an instant, Myrrh’s blue eyes caught the light, glittering like fragments of glass on water. Yet I couldn’t read them—was that shimmer excitement, relief, or the fragile glint of tears she fought to hold back?

Whatever it was, she turned away before I could tell, facing Ephraim with a hesitant nod. Without another word, the two of them walked off together. Myrrh’s shoulders drooped, and though Ephraim spoke, she never once looked up—her gaze stayed fixed on the sand beneath her feet, as though every step was too heavy to bear.

Only when they disappeared into the crowd did I realize the bartender was staring at me expectantly. It was my turn, but I’d been standing there like a statue.

A sharp tap landed on the back of my head.

“Hey, slowpoke! Give your order already!” Jordan barked, half-annoyed, half-amused.

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, shaken from my haze.

But even as I faced the counter, a cold weight pressed down on me. The realization struck hard: I’d just left Myrrh alone with Ephraim. Old wounds had a way of reopening, and old flames—well, they were the hardest to extinguish. The thought burned in my chest, sour and sharp, like regret given form.

Before I could stop myself, I stepped out of line.

“I have to go,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

Sand kicked up under my shoes as I rushed after them, following the faint impressions of Myrrh’s footsteps trailing toward the shore. My heart hammered, my chest tightening with every stride. I hated this feeling—the helplessness, the jealousy, the fear of answers I might not be ready to hear.

But this was no game I could gamble with. I needed to know where Myrrh’s heart truly stood.

The setting sun painted the world in fire and gold. Half of it had already slipped beneath the edge of the sea, its last light spilling across the horizon in molten streaks. The sky above blushed in shades of orange and rose, gilding the clouds with a warm tint. The breeze was cool against the skin, but mingled with the dying sunlight it carried a soft, comforting warmth, like the last embrace of the day.

On the seashore, two silhouettes stood framed against the glowing horizon. It was almost too perfect—like a scene pulled from a romance novel—two figures alone with the lull of the waves, bathed in the tender radiance of sunset. Myrrh’s long, greenish-blonde hair danced with every brush of the wind, strands catching the light as though spun with gold.

Hidden behind the rough trunk of a coconut tree, I watched in silence, my breath shallow, my chest tight. Their voices carried faintly over the hush of the surf.

“I’m sorry for cornering you like this,” Ephraim began, his tone low and heavy with unease, “but… I just want to make something clear. Clarisse and I… we’re no longer together. She’s only here to provoke you.”

“I know.” Myrrh’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Hazel told me you broke up almost ten months ago.”

Relief spilled from Ephraim in a deep sigh. “I’m just glad you didn’t misunderstand.”

Then, without warning, he dropped to one knee in the sand and gently took Myrrh’s hand. The gesture startled her—her eyes widened, her body stiffened—but she didn’t pull away.

“Myrrh,” Ephraim said, his voice trembling with desperation, “I know I have sinned against you. I betrayed your trust when I cheated, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But these past ten months, I’ve come to realize… you are the only one I love. I regret everything—especially the night of our high school prom when I let you go. I want us back, the way we were when we were young. If you give me just one more chance, I swear… I will never, ever let you go again.”

The wind surged as if nature itself answered his plea. Myrrh’s hair swept dramatically to the side, ribbons of green and gold flickering against the sky. She lifted a hand to tuck the strands back, her face flushed with color.

Her blue eyes glistened like starlight reflected on the sea, shimmering with emotions too tangled to name. I could see the faint tremor in her jaw, as if her heart warred between the sweetness of old memories and the sting of old wounds.

“I’m sorry, Ephraim.” Myrrh’s voice was small, a cracked whisper wrapped in a heartbroken smile. “I loved you. You know how much I loved you. But… even so… I have moved on. Truly.”

Ephraim’s shoulders hunched as if her words had the weight of the tide. “Myrrh.” he pleaded, every syllable raw.

She shook her head, but her smile never crumbled—there was a sad, gentle grace to it. “I already love someone.”

His breath hitched. “Was it—” he began, but she cut him off with another soft shake.

“I’m sorry, Ephraim. My heart belongs to somebody else now.” Myrrh’s fingers tightened once around the sand before she let them fall. “I don’t know if he feels the same—he never reacted to my advances. I don’t even know if he likes me or hates me. But I’ve held these feelings for a year, and I want to embrace them. Even if it’s a gamble.”

For a beat, Ephraim’s eyes widened as though she’d pulled something from his chest. Then he lowered his lids, exhaled, and let his hand slip from hers. He rose to his feet with a slow, brittle composure.

“I see.” His voice was quiet, a bitter smile ghosting his lips. “So I’ve been beaten by him, huh? That one year you spent with him outweighs our decades together.”

“Yes.” Myrrh’s smile widened—not cruel, but sure, like sunlight cutting through cloud. “I’m sure you’ll find somebody like that one day.”

His grin was crooked, full of stubborn sorrow. “I don’t think I’ll love anyone else the way I loved you, but I’ll try.” He inhaled, steeling himself. “Still—thank you. Talking to you like this, heart to heart, after everything… it feels like a miracle.”

Myrrh scoffed softly, an almost playful tilt returning to her tone. “I’m sure you’ll find someone better than your junkie ex. If you want, I’ll even hook you up with someone I know from Xyraxis.” The remark landed like a silvered barb—light, but pointed—and the two of them stood framed by the dying light, one stepping away and the other stepping into something fragile and new.

“I’ll be counting on that then.” Ephraim lifted his hand, grinning like he’d won a small bet, ready for a hi-five.

“You better be. She’s a little explosive, but you can handle short fuses,” Myrrh teased, and she met his raised palm without missing a beat.

The slap of their hi-five rang out across the shoreline, a crisp sound that seemed, for a moment, to hush the surf itself. Ephraim managed a bright, forced smile and waved once.

Then he turned and walked away — shoulders a little too squared, steps practiced to seem light while his chest felt anything but.

When he vanished into the thinning crowd, Myrrh was suddenly alone against the molten horizon. She watched the sun drip its last orange into the sea, then folded both hands over her heart as if to steady whatever was breaking inside. Slowly she sank to the sand and bowed, knees close to her chest.

“Haah… haaah.”

Her breathing came ragged and small; the color rushed up her neck and into her cheeks.

“I can let it all out now, right? I… I cried for him last year, but I can’t hold it in anymore. It’s… it’s okay to cry now, right?”

She hugged her knees and hid her face, shoulders trembling. The first sob tore out of her — a sharp, involuntary sound — then another.  Read full story at ⓝovelFire.net

“Ngh! Hic… Ahhh… Waaaaaah! I… I rejected him… Even though… I… I can’t guarantee… anything… I threw it all away… just for these feelings… that may not be returned… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

The scene folded back on itself like a memory loop. It echoed the old prom — the same collapsing of dignity into tears — only now the roles were reversed: back then she’d been left; now she was the one who’d let him go. Either way, the last act was the same: Myrrh ending up soaked in salt and sorrow of her own tears.

“If only… I hadn’t been so mean at first… If only I hadn’t treated him like a goon… maybe I could have held onto these feelings longer… But it’s not my fault — I didn’t feel this way then. Why is my heart full of regrets now? I rejected my childhood lover… And I’m being hated by the person I love… How do I keep going? I’m so pathetic! Help me… please help me… Zaft.”

Her plea cut through the air like the last bright note of a song. I felt my chest tighten in response — the old, plain tug that always told me when she needed me.

My hand fumbled into my pocket and closed around something soft: a reddish-pink handkerchief I kept for moments just like this. Clutching it like a small talisman, I stepped out from behind the rough trunk of the coconut tree and crossed the wet sand toward her.

"I never hated you..." Words came out of my lips.

Up close, the salt on her lashes caught the dying light. I crouched and held the handkerchief out without words, an offer to wipe away the tears she tried so hard to hide. My heart beat loud in my ears; everything else — the surf, the sky, the last warmth of the sun — narrowed to the small space between us.