Chapter 37

Zayne Point of View

I was born into wealth—what most people call the top 1%. While others would envy my life, to me, it all felt strangely dull. They called me handsome, a "prince," thanks to my unique features from parents who hailed from different parts of the world.

“You're cute,”

“I bet he also inherited his parents' intelligence,” another chimed in, laughter ringing out.

“Oh, what a cute boy you are! You’d better be my son-in-law!”

Those words suffocated me, replaying in my mind like an unending loop. The expectations, the pressure—it all felt overwhelming.

“Look at him! Such a charming boy!”

“Such potential! You’ll make us proud one day, won’t you?”

“Just wait until your father hears about this!”

“Everyone will be talking about you, I’m sure of it!”

The voices blended together, drowning out my own thoughts. But over time, I became known as the "Cold Prince."

From a young age, I could see things others couldn’t—ghostly apparitions, memories from lives that weren’t mine, and glimpses of the future. At first, it terrified me. These spirits approached, pleading for help, while flashes of futures and pasts bombarded me every time someone made contact. It wasn’t a blessing; it was a curse. Overwhelming.

That’s why I chose to become a doctor. I wanted to save lives, not just those I saw suffering in front of me, but those lost souls as well. For once, I thought I had control. But even with my purpose, these abilities lingered, always reminding me that I could never fully escape them.

Thanks to my looks, I never had trouble attracting attention, especially from women. They came with their intentions painted across their faces, hoping to win me over. But every time they touched me, I saw through them—their futures, their pasts, everything. It became too much. I craved something more. Someone real. I had visions of being with someone who would make all of this make sense.

Then one day, during an exhausting shift at the hospital, it happened. I bumped into her.

She wasn’t like anyone else. The moment my eyes landed on her, my world shifted. There was something familiar about her, something that made my heart race—a feeling I had never experienced before. My pulse quickened as if some forgotten part of me had been waiting for this exact moment.

And when she looked at me, everything inside me screamed that I knew her. A sudden, overwhelming urge surged through me. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to tell her how much I’d missed her—even though we had never met. My heart pounded against my chest, the intensity almost unbearable, as if the universe itself was trying to remind me of something I couldn’t quite grasp.

I had never felt this before. But in that instant, I knew—she was the one.

Then, we meet again. Seeing her after all this time—it fills me with a happiness I can't quite explain. But there's a distance between us, one I hadn’t expected. She keeps her space, like I’m just another stranger in her world.

Maybe I am, to her.

Still, I can’t shake the urge to approach her. I want to close that gap, to capture her attention. The longing inside me grows stronger every time I see her.

She called, asking to claim the item she had left behind. I watched her close her suitcase before I immediately rushed to my office to grab it, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t deny the uncomfortable fluttering inside me, but at the same time, I felt grateful. Grateful for the chance to see her again.

When I met her, she smiled at me—a small gesture, but it was enough to make my pulse quicken. I kept my composure, reminding myself to stay calm, not wanting to overwhelm her. Earlier, I had seen her with a man. There was something unsettling about him, a dark aura clinging to him, the kind I had only seen before with reapers. In the hospital, reapers often roamed the halls, their presence cold and menacing, always cloaked in black. But this man... he had the same dark presence.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Was she connected to him? Was she a reaper too?

Before I could dwell on that thought, my phone rang. I answered it quickly, but when I turned around, she was gone. Vanished, as if she had never been there. I scanned the room, searching for any sign of her, but there was nothing. No shadow, no trace.

I thought I had lost her again.

But the next day, something unexpected happened. I saw her again, this time at a restaurant near my house. She looked dazzling, like she didn’t belong to this world. Even though I had already eaten, I made the decision to go in. Just to see her, to speak to her, to be near her once more.

Our eyes met.

That single moment made everything else fade away.

She remembers me.

The realization makes my pulse quicken, stirring something deep within. I’ve been curious about her from the moment we met, and now that we’re seated at the same table, I can’t help but want more. She tells me she’s a job hunter, but I know she’s lying. I can see it in the way she avoids my gaze. But does it matter? She’s here, in front of me, and for now, that’s all I want—to be in this moment with her.

As the dinner comes to a close, I reach for my wallet, ready to pay, but she stops me. Her hand rests on mine, and for the second time, I’m overwhelmed by a vision. Images of her flash in my mind—her face, but always different. Different hairstyles, different dresses, as if I’ve known her in countless lives, countless forms.

Just who is she? Just that thought came to my mind

I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve known her far longer than these brief encounters. I want to understand her, to get close to her like that man in the hospital did. There’s a connection there that I can’t ignore. But, once again, before I can grasp it, she pulls away.

I lose her. Again.

It’s becoming a pattern, and yet... every time we meet, it feels like destiny. Like fate is drawing us together, even as she keeps herself at arm’s length. There’s something about her that eludes me, something I’m meant to discover.

But now, as I stand with her letter in my hand, her words replay in my mind:

"Zayne, thank you for everything. I fear we will not meet again, but thank you so much for everything. You’re a good person. But due to circumstances, I need to go far away. I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused. I hope the envelope I left beside this letter will be enough. I also apologize that you need to move on from me. Thank you for the vacation. I had fun, but moments are short, and I needed to leave."

Her farewell feels like a punch to the gut. I set the letter down, my mind racing.

Just a while ago, she was in danger, and I was terrified of losing her. Now, after everything, she’s gone again—leaving me with nothing but this letter, her words cutting deep into my thoughts.

I need to find her. I can’t let this be the end. Not after all of this. Not after what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. I won’t lose her again.

Not this time.

Ring*Ring

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen—it's my mother. I answer, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Son, we need you,” she says, her voice stern and direct. No greeting. No, ‘how are you?’ Not even a moment to ask if I’m fine.

"Need me? For what?" I ask, though I already know what’s coming.

"The company. It's time you take your place, Zayne. Your father and I have discussed it. You’re ready to inherit the position. We can’t wait any longer." Her words are sharp, almost demanding.

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on me. Inherit the company? They only want me there because they need someone to control, to mold into their version of success. I’ve always known they saw me as a tool, something to further their agenda.

“I’m not interested, Mom,” I respond flatly, my grip on the phone tightening. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want to be a part of the company.”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, then her voice cuts through the quiet. “Zayne, this isn’t about what you want. This is about your responsibility to the family. You don’t have a choice.”

I can feel my frustration bubbling to the surface, but just as I’m about to argue back, a memory flashes in my mind. Lanaya’s voice, soft and calming, but with an undeniable weight to her words:

"All worlds matter only to you, and only you. Don’t let anyone decide your path. Not even them."

I already missed her. She had said those words to me in a moment of quiet, when the pressures of my family and the world felt like too much, when my birthday I tell her that my family and I are not in good terms . Her voice had been the anchor I needed, reminding me that my choices were mine and mine alone.

Returning to the present, I sigh. “I’m not going to be your puppet, Mom. I have my own life, my own purpose.”

“Puppet? You’re making a mistake, Zayne,” she says coldly. “The company needs you, whether you like it or not.”

“No,” I say firmly. “You need me because you think I’ll follow your orders. But I won’t. Not this time.”

Without waiting for her response, I hang up, feeling the familiar surge of frustration mixed with a strange sense of freedom. They’ve always tried to control me, to bend me to their will. But I know better now.

Lanaya’s words echo in my mind once more: “Only you.”

I’m going to live my life the way I choose.

I sat on the edge of the bed where she once lay, my hand instinctively reaching out to the spot she had occupied not so long ago. The sheets still held traces of her warmth, a reminder of her presence. I wanted so badly to ask her, Are you okay? Was she having a good time? Who was the person who dared to attack her?

But now that she’s gone... how could I ask her anything?

She ran away—just disappeared. I even tried calling her, desperate to hear her voice, but she didn’t answer. She blocked my number, cutting off the only connection I had left.

Zero contact. Nothing but silence.

What would I do now? How could I find her when she clearly doesn’t want to be found?

What happen to you Lanaya?

My wife.