Seperation and Hope

(I re-upload this chapter with more detailed and emotion)

That night, after the sex, they didn't rush to sleep. Ronan lay on his back, the sheets tangled around his legs, while Xyaa rested beside him. Her head pressed against his chest, her damp hair cool on his skin. He listened to her soft breathing. They didn't talk much—just shared the quiet, their bodies close. Her arm draped over his stomach, warm and relaxed. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and they drifted off together.

Morning light streamed through the thin hotel curtains, spilling across the crumpled white sheets. Ronan blinked awake, the soft creak of the bed pulling him from sleep as Xyaa shifted beside him.

"Ronan… Thank you," she said, her voice low and sleepy. She sat up, stretching her arms high above her head. Her back curved smoothly, the muscles in her shoulders flexing as she let out a long, satisfied sigh. Her black hair, slid down her neck, catching the sunlight in thin, shiny strands. She reached for her bra on the nightstand, hooking it around her chest with slow, graceful movements.

Ronan froze, his breath catching in his throat. From behind, she looked perfect—the arch of her spine leading down to the gentle dip above her hips. His heart beat faster as she adjusted the bra, her light brown skin glowing in the morning light. He swallowed hard, stunned by how effortlessly beautiful she was.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, sitting up. He grabbed his underwear from the floor and pulled it on, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, it was best night I had in months," she replied, turning her head slightly to glance at him.

She smiled faintly, slipping her black cotton panties up her legs. "Hoe about you? How did you feel? About last night, I mean." She picked up her white dress from the chair, shaking it out.

"For me?" Ronan looked surprised, pausing with his shirt in his hands. He thought for a moment, then sat back on the bed. "I might never forget this night. You're truly beautiful—your face, your body—but it's more than that. The way you talk, so direct and calm, the way you move… even how you laughed when I was nervous. It's all stuck in my head. Everything about you is beautiful. Just beautiful."

Xyaa laughed softly, her fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "You're sweet. I wasn't fishing for compliments, but… I'll take it." She stepped into her dress, pulling it up over her hips. "It was an unforgettable night for me too," Then she stopped for a while, before she said, "I don't usually let guys stick around this long."

He stayed quiet, watching her smooth the fabric over her stomach. Their eyes met for a second, and she gave him a small, warm smile. His chest tightened a little. He stood up, pulling on his shirt and jeans. She finished dressing too, slipping her shoes on with a quick tap against the floor. Neither of them said much more—just moved together in the comfortable silence.

It was already afternoon by the time they checked out. They walked through the hotel lobby, past a few guests chatting near the glass table in the corner. The tiled floor clicked under their shoes, and the air smelled faintly of coffee from the front desk. The clerk handed Ronan the receipt with a quick nod, and they stepped outside. The sun glared down, hot on their skin, and the street buzzed with cars honking and people shouting.

They stopped under the hotel awning. Xyaa shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her dress swaying slightly in the breeze. Ronan shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at her.

"So… this is it, huh?" she said.

"Guess so," he replied, "Unless you want to grab coffee or something? There's a place down the street."

She smiled faintly, her clear eyes catching the light. "Tempting, but… no. It was perfect because it was just one night. Meeting again might ruin that."

Ronan exhaled lightly, his shoulders slumping a little. "It's okay. I'm disappointed, but I kind of expected this."

"Well… I guess this is goodbye then," Xyaa said, her tone soft.

"Hm." He nodded.

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment longer. She stepped back, her fingers brushing his hand for a second, warm and quick. "Take care, Ronan."

"You too," he said. She turned right, her white dress swaying as she walked away, blending into the crowd of people on the busy street. He watched her go, then turned left.

----

Ronan walked along the sidewalk. His dorm wasn't far, but he stopped at a bench under a tree, sitting down to think. His mind drifted to Xyaa.

He'd lost everything from his past life. Back then, he'd built a little recording studio, nothing fancy, but good enough to produce a lot of things.

He'd signed a few local singers, made decent money, and lived in a decent apartment. He'd had connections, small-time managers, club owners who owed him favors, some actors and singers and a solid grasp of the industry. Now, all that was gone.

This new world was different. The entertainment industry here was completely unknown for him. He had no connections, no capital, and no idea who the top players were, what their habits were, or how anything worked. To succeed, he'd have to learn it all—study the big names, figure out the system, build a network from nothing.

Work. That word used to make him groan. Twenty years of it, hustling, stressing, scraping by, and he'd sworn he'd never do it again. After all that grinding, he'd settled into a comfortable spot in his past life, a small figure who didn't have to push anymore. He'd stopped taking risks, stopped chasing anything bigger. And that was his mistake.

But last night changed something. Sitting there on the bench, he doesn't know why but spending a night with Xyaa, he began to feel more hopeful, and desire to work.

He might have lost everything, but he still had experience. Things would be easier this time—he knew how to talk to people, how to spot talent, how to hustle when it mattered.

Plus, he had something else: knowledge from his old world. Songs, novels, movies, series—stories that didn't exist here. He couldn't remember them perfectly, but he had fragments. There was a song about a girl dancing in the rain, upbeat with a catchy chorus he could hum if he tried. And a movie plot—a guy fighting robots in a ruined city, gritty and loud. They weren't complete in his head, but he could tweak them, fill in the gaps, make them new. Those ideas could start something great.

Most importantly, he had youth. He was 22 again, full of energy he hadn't felt in decades. And this face—sharp jaw, blue eyes, red hair was a weapon he never had before. In his past life, he'd been plain, forgettable. Now, he could walk into rooms and turn heads. He could charm club owners, scout singers in dive bars, convince investors to give him a shot. With this body and his old mind, he could be more successful than he'd ever been.

The only thing that weighed him down was starting over—from the bottom, with nothing. That was why he'd been sad, frustrated, drinking alone at that bar. He didn't want to work anymore—not after twenty years of it. But now, he got it. He had to. He had to step out of his comfort zone, push himself like he hadn't before.

Ronan stood up from the bench, his steps lighter now.

This time, things would be different. He wouldn't settle. Not again.