CHAPTER 8

ZARIA

I didn’t look at him after that.

The words hung between us… ugly, and I hated that I had said them, hated that they had come out so easily, like my mouth was already trained to hurt first before being hurt.

Wang went quiet immediately. His eyes dropped back to the book in his hands, but he wasn’t reading anymore. I could tell by the way the page never turned.

I stared straight ahead, my heart beating too fast for no reason that made sense. I hadn’t meant to snap like that. Or maybe I had. I wasn’t sure anymore.

That made it worse.

The rest of the flight passed in a strange silence that wasn’t heavy but wasn’t comfortable either. Wang didn't try to speak again and I found myself noticing the absence of his voice…

The cabin lights dimmed as people slept. A baby cried somewhere behind us. I closed my eyes but didn’t sleep because every time I shifted, I was aware of Wang beside me, still, polite, giving me space without making it obvious.

When the plane finally landed, I felt relief rush through me so strong it almost made my chest ache. I had expected people to clap, but no one did… this was China anyway. We stood up with the rest of the passengers and slowly moved down the aisle. Wang reached for his bag. Our hands brushed briefly, accidentally. He pulled back immediately.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

I didn't reply.

That was all.

At baggage claim, he stood a little distance away from me now. I tugged my suitcase off the conveyor and adjusted the handle, a little stiff from sitting too long. He noticed, gave a small nod, and turned back to his phone. No pressure. Thankfully, for reasons I didn’t want to unpack, it hurt.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

What would I even say? Sorry, I snapped. Sorry, my life is a mess. Sorry, I don’t trust anyone who speaks to me kindly.

We walked toward the exit together without planning it. The automatic doors slid open, letting in cold air and when I finally came down the escalator into the arrival hall, the noise hit me all at once.

Chinese. Fucking Chinese… the smell of coffee and something fried. New country. New rules. It wouldn't hurt to… end things in a less awkward way. I slowed, then stopped a few steps away, remembering Wang was still there, near the exit.

“I…” I started, then stopped. The apology was there, right on my tongue. It would have been easy to say that I was tired and scared, and that I probably didn’t mean it. But apologies had always led me back into things I shouldn’t return to.

So I swallowed it.

“I need to go,” I said instead.

He nodded once. “Of course.”

“Yeah,” I hesitated, then forced a smile that didn’t quite work.

“Take care, Zaria.”

“You too,” I said. “I didn’t mean…”

He waited patiently.

I exhaled. “Never mind.”

He gave a small smile. “Okay.”

I turned away before I could change my mind. Outside, the taxi line stretched along the curb with drivers shouting destinations.

Who knew where they were headed? I frowned, trying to remember the hotel… You know what? Fuck it. I walked toward the curb and raised my hand. A yellow taxi slowed and pulled over in front of me. The driver leaned across the passenger seat, looking me over.

He asked, “Where to?”

I swallowed, forcing the words out carefully. “Can you take me to the Beijing International Hotel?”

He nodded immediately. “Okay, get in.”

I climbed into the back seat and pulled the door shut.

As the taxi pulled away, I looked through the rear window. My heart flew to my mouth as I realized Wang was still standing there. He was on his phone, watching the taxi like he was making sure it left safely or reporting back to Renzo.

Dread recoiled in my stomach.

Fuck!

“I’m never coming back anyway,” I whispered under my breath. “Forever.” The taxi turned the corner, and he disappeared from view.

The driver glanced at me through the mirror, curious.

“What?” he asked.

I said quickly. “Nothing”

A few minutes passed in silence. The city unfolded around us as we drove. Tall buildings and neon signs… so beautiful. I pressed my forehead lightly against the window. When I looked back at the rearview mirror, the driver was still stealing glances at me.

He said casually, “The man just now, was he your husband?”

I blinked, startled. “What?”

He laughed. “You left so fast. He stood there watching you like he’d been abandoned”

I huffed, then I replied quickly. “No. Not my husband”

“Boyfriend” He pressed, clearly entertained.

“No,” I said firmly, “He’s not my boyfriend. Just someone I know”

The driver laughed, a warm, rolling sound. “I thought you were fighting”

“No,” I said, then paused, searching for the right word. “We just know each other.”

He repeated knowingly. “Oh…know each other… sounds more complicated.

I rolled my eyes.

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You foreigners, your relationships are always complicated.”

That surprised me more than anything else.

He pointed out. “You laughed

Did I? Immediately I glanced at the mirror to see any remnant of laughter on my face. I saw nothing… I replied. “I just think you talk too much.”

The taxi slowed at a red light.

My phone vibrated heavily.

I froze, staring at my handbag.