Chapter 23 – Unwilling to leave, Unable to stay

The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below. Bastian stood motionless, the night air heavy around him. His heart was already broken, the weight of what he was about to do crushing him. He stared out at the skyline, trying to summon the courage to carry out the cruelest act of his life. Every memory of Anastasia—her smile, her laugh, the fire in her eyes—rushed through his mind like a tormenting storm.

He couldn't do this.

But he had to.

The sharp sound of wings slicing through the air startled him. He turned sharply, and there she was, landing on the rooftop with the grace of a seasoned warrior. Anastasia. Her presence was like a beacon, bright and fierce, but her expression was stormy. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing, and he realized she'd felt his turmoil—his torment. Of course she had. They were bound in ways even heaven couldn't sever.

"What the hell is going on, Bastian?" she demanded, her voice sharp, but there was an edge of concern under the steel. "Why are you up here, drowning in whatever mess you're not telling me about?"

He turned away, clenching his fists to stop them from trembling. He couldn't let her see how much he was unraveling. Not tonight. Not for this.

"Go home, Ana," he said flatly, his voice devoid of the warmth she was used to.

Her boots clicked against the concrete as she stepped closer, ignoring his dismissal. "No," she snapped. "Not until you tell me what's going on. I felt you, Bastian. You're hurting, and you don't get to push me away. Not this time."

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He kept his back to her, hoping she couldn't see the conflict tearing him apart. "I'm fine," he muttered, but his voice wavered slightly.

"Don't you dare lie to me," she said, her voice rising, fierce and unrelenting. "You think I can't see through you?"

He let out a harsh laugh, but it was hollow. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think, Ana. Maybe that's the problem."

Her footsteps grew louder as she closed the gap between them. "Don't do this," she warned, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "Don't shut me out, Bastian."

He spun around, his face cold and indifferent, though his heart was screaming. "What do you want me to say, Ana? That I'm tired? That I'm done being dragged into your reckless decisions? You didn't even think to tell me what you were planning back there. You almost died again. Again! Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Her jaw tightened, her eyes glinting with angry tears. "Oh, so this is about me now? You're mad because I made a call in the heat of the moment? I'm sorry I didn't consult you before saving someone's life!"

"It's not about saving lives!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "It's about you not respecting me enough to let me in. To trust me. You make these decisions on your own, and I'm left to pick up the pieces. I can't do it anymore, Ana. I won't."

She froze, her breath catching. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The weight of his words hung between them like a physical thing. Then, her expression hardened. "So that's it? You're just giving up? Walking away because it's hard?"

"This isn't about me giving up," he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. "This is about you not needing me anymore."

Her laugh was bitter, laced with disbelief. "You're kidding, right? After everything we've been through, you think I don't need you? That I don't want you? You're acting like a coward."

His heart shattered, but he didn't let it show. "I've made my decision," he said firmly. "I'm going back."

The words hit her like a blow. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she was silent. Then the anger returned, fiercer than before. "You're going back?" she repeated, her voice trembling with fury. "Wait, you're just… leaving? Now?"

"I have to," he said, though his voice was barely audible now. "You don't need me, Ana. You're stronger than you've ever been. You don't need someone like me holding you back."

"Don't you dare," she hissed, stepping closer until they were face-to-face. Her tears spilled over now, but they were tears of rage, not sorrow. "Don't you dare put this on me. This isn't about what I need. This is about you running away. If you leave, don't come back. Do you hear me?"

He couldn't meet her gaze. Instead, he reached out, cupping her face gently. Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. "I'm doing this for you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For what's to come."

She didn't understand. How could she? And he couldn't explain, not without putting her and their unborn child in even greater danger.

"Bastian—" Her voice cracked, but he silenced her by leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It wasn't just a kiss—it was everything he wanted to say but couldn't. Everything he felt but wouldn't allow himself to show.

She closed her eyes, her fierce demeanor faltering for just a moment. She let herself feel it, savoring the last piece of him she might ever have. Her hands trembled as they hovered near him, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

When he pulled back, he didn't let her see the tears in his eyes. He couldn't. Instead, he took a step back, his face a mask of indifference once more. "Goodbye, Anastasia," he said, his voice devoid of the love he felt.

"Don't you walk away from me!" she shouted, her voice breaking with desperation and fury. But it was too late. His body began to glow with ethereal light, and before she could reach for him, he vanished, disappearing into the night like the proper angel he was.

Anastasia stood there, her fists clenched, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. The rooftop was empty now, but his absence felt like a gaping hole in her world, and fell to her knees. She didn't cry—she refused to—but the rage and heartbreak inside her burned like fire.

And in the shadows, someone was watching. A sinister smile spread across their face as they murmured, "Let the games begin."