The Last Thing I Said Was I Love You....

11:00 AM.

Erick stood at their usual meeting spot, waiting.

As always, Dan arrived precisely on time—sharp, collected, and dressed in a way that made him look more like a CEO than anything else. There was something about Dan's presence—his elegance often outshone even the master's.

Erick greeted him with his signature foolish smile, the same one that never failed to irritate Dan.

"Let's go," Dan said curtly, motioning toward the entrance.

The two walked in and settled at a nearby table. Erick ordered two iced Americanos without asking, then leaned in as they got to the point.

"Boss, I got the update," Erick said. "They'll be heading back by tomorrow."

Dan's lips curved into a faint smile. "Put our men on them. The moment you get the green signal—grab both of them. It's time we played fair."

Erick blinked, surprised. "But boss... the red thread is just the girl, isn't it? Why take both?"

"Just do as I said," Dan snapped, his jaw clenched. "And make sure the master doesn't hear a word of this. I've got a few debts to settle."

"But boss," Erick hesitated, "shouldn't we keep business and personal matters—"

"You'll do only what you're told, Erick. This doesn't concern the master. Understand?"

Dan's tone left no room for argument. Erick, loyal as ever, gave a small nod and stood.

"Yes, boss. As you say."

"Let's go," Dan said coldly, and with that, the two slipped into Dan's car and drove off.

___________________________________________________________________>>>>***>>>***>>>***

Evening – 7:00 PM

The cold had grown sharper than usual. Last night's light snowfall had left a white hush over the city, and more was expected by nightfall. Winter had arrived a little earlier this year, and by this hour, most streets had grown quiet. Only the food stalls and a few convenience stores still flickered with life. Sam walked silently along the side of the road, his breath misting in the air, a takeout bag in hand—dinner for him and Zero.

He'd met Maera and Sim earlier that evening at a café and had only just found out Maera was leaving for America the very next morning.

His steps moved forward, but his mind trailed far behind.

Sam felt strangely alone. Elina was still upset with him for disappearing without notice, and he honestly didn't know how to fix it. His thoughts bounced from Maera's parting words to Alexa's cryptic warnings—and back again to Zero. Above all, one question kept clawing at him:

What had pushed Zero so far that he'd drunk himself to forget? What was it that he couldn't tell Sam?

Maera's voice echoed in his mind:

"Sam, sometimes the truth is standing right in front of us… and we still choose to ignore it. Maybe out of fear. But that fear can turn into a lifetime of regret."

Alexa, too, had said something once:

"You're always so late at recognizing things—people, their tone, their eyes. Try learning before it's too late. Before someone stops being someone worth noticing."

Sam was connecting threads now, threads that only deepened the confusion. What was Maera trying to warn him about? What had Alexa already seen? And Zero… was everything he knew about Zero just an illusion?

By the time he reached home, the chill in the air matched the unrest in his heart. But he pushed all the thoughts into a corner of his mind—shoved them into a metaphorical drawer—and stepped inside.

The lights were already on. The house was clean, warm. Zero sat on the couch, completely engrossed in a movie.

Sam placed the food on the shelf and called out with his usual teasing charm, "Hey, you semi-human creature."

Zero turned and smiled. "Oh, you're back." Just like that, he swiftly changed the channel.

Sam noticed it but didn't say anything.

"What took you so long?" Zero asked. "I've been waiting forever. Where were you?"

Sam blinked, startled by the flood of questions. "Easy, easy, Zero. I wasn't even that late. I ran into Maera and Sim at the café. But I brought dinner."

Zero smiled. "Alright. You go freshen up. I'll set the table."

He disappeared into the kitchen. Sam watched him go, raising a brow.

"Why is he acting like my wife?" Sam thought. But he was too tired to dwell on it and walked off to the washroom.

Later, they sat across from each other at the dinner table, warm ramen bowls between them.

"I was going to treat you to ramen today," Zero muttered, "but you brought it yourself."

Sam looked up. "Zero," he said in a tone neither harsh nor casual.

"Hmm?" Zero didn't meet his gaze.

"What time did you wake up today?"

"Uh... around 5 in the evening, I guess. God knows how I slept so long. Also, what the hell am I doing at your place?"

Sam stared at him. "You seriously don't remember anything?"

Zero didn't respond—just shook his head and kept eating.

"Alright," Sam said, his voice cooling. "Let me ask you a few things. And I want honest answers."

Zero froze. He slowly looked up. His face had lost color, but within seconds he forced a neutral expression and nodded.

"Where were you yesterday? And why didn't you tell me before leaving?"

"I was just… wandering around," Zero said, brushing it off. "You're being too sensitive, Sam."

"Oh really?" Sam's tone sharpened. "Then why can't you remember how you got to my place or why you were passed out on the couch?"

Zero had no reply.

"Look, Zero," Sam said, voice tightening. "I'm not sure why you're acting like this, but I was genuinely worried about you."

Zero glanced up, a forced smirk playing on his lips. "So you do care, huh?"

"Yes, I do!" Sam snapped. "But what's going on with you? Why are you lying to me, Zero? You're hiding something."

"I haven't lied."

"That's a lie in itself!" Sam nearly slammed his chopsticks down. "Let's be honest for once. What were you doing at Jacob's Bar? Do you even know what kind of place that is? The people there—if Jacob hadn't called me—God knows what could've happened to you!"

Zero's eyes darkened. "So now I can't even go where I want? Or do you care so much only because of Elina?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Sam's jaw clenched. "You're still jealous of Elina? You never used to be like this!"

"I am jealous," Zero said, his voice cracking. "Do you know how many times you chose her over me? And I—" He stopped, eyes suddenly glassy. "You really don't care what I think, do you?

Sam looked at him. Zero's eyes—brimming with unshed tears—were unfamiliar. Sam had never seen him cry, never seen him like this.

"You were going to tell me something, weren't you?" Sam said quietly. "Last night… you—do you…"

But before he could finish, Zero stood up abruptly, his chopsticks clattering onto the table.

"You want to know the truth?" he shouted. "Fine. Yes, I'm possessive. Yes, I said something I shouldn't have. But you know what? It's better if I don't say anything at all. I'm done making you uncomfortable."

A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it harshly, picked up the dishes, and turned away.

Sam remained frozen, stunned. This wasn't how their fights usually ended. Something was deeply wrong.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," Sam thought. "I dumped all my frustration on him."

He stood and followed Zero into the kitchen, where Zero was drying his hands, eyes still slightly red.

"Zero…"

Zero turned around, startled. He tried to speak—"Sam, please…"—but the words choked in his throat.

Sam didn't let him finish.

He stepped forward, grabbed Zero by the shirt, and pulled him into a hug.

Zero stiffened, caught off guard. But as Sam's arms tightened around him, he sank into the embrace.

There was something about Sam—his warmth, his scent—that calmed him like nothing else.

"I'm sorry, Zero," Sam murmured. "I care about you. You're like a little brother to me, and I should've seen that you cared too. I misunderstood you."

Zero's chest twisted. He gripped Sam's shirt tightly.

"Brother… That's all I'll ever be to him."

A silent pain cracked through his heart. He lowered his face into Sam's shoulder, letting his tears soak into the fabric.

But love is strange—it teaches even the worst actors to play their parts well.

Zero had learned to mask his heartbreak.

In the next moment, he pulled back, straightened up, and smiled like nothing had happened.

"Alright, alright," he said, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and winking. "I forgive you. After all, it's always your fault anyway."

Sam laughed. "You'll never change."

"Try me."

Later that night, Zero had left.

Sam turned off the lights, intending to relax. He switched on the TV, only to find a series already playing—the same one Zero had been watching earlier.

It was the show he'd quickly turned off when Sam had walked in.

Sam squinted at the screen. "Theory of Love?" he read the title. "Since when does Zero watch stuff like this?"

Curious, he sat down and let it play.

The more he watched, the more pale he grew.

________________________________________________________________>>>>***>>>***>>>***

Exams were drawing near, and Sara had completely vanished from the scene. No one knew when she came or left, whom she talked to, or what she did. For the past several days, she hadn't even visited Alexa. Although Alexa's condition had slightly improved, she still hadn't awakened from the coma.

Sara might not have been seen, but she still existed in the mortal world—quietly, distantly. She rarely visited the dorm and spent most nights outside. It felt as though she no longer understood the purpose of her life.

That day, the weather was beautiful again, but Sara felt achingly lonely. No matter how much a person tries to cage their emotions, they can never fully trap them. Emotions are what make us human—without them, we'd be machines. God had placed emotions in her for a reason.

Even though she tried to contain her feelings, they always found a way to escape.

While people outside were bundled in warm coats against the cold, Sara wore only a long coat over a simple shirt and jeans. Maybe the pain inside her was so sharp that the physical cold meant nothing anymore.

She made her way to the park and sat at her usual bench, watching the children play in silence, like always. Sometimes, she stared up at the sky—as if she had endless questions for the God who might be listening from above. But no answers ever came.

Even when her heart grew heavy, tears no longer fell. Perhaps, along with Maera's letter, she had burned all the tears too.

"Aah! Mummy!" The sudden cry of a small child jolted Sara from her thoughts. She looked toward the boy who had tripped and was now sobbing as his mother tried to comfort him.

Sara watched them closely. The woman gently dusted the dirt off the boy's clothes and then hugged him tenderly. There was a kindness in her—genuine, soft, nurturing.

A sad smile crept across Sara's face.

That scene dragged her back into a past she thought she had buried two years ago. She found herself remembering fragments of her real mother, Selene—though there were so few.

Her biological mother had rarely been home, and the years she spent with her felt like a blur. Sara couldn't recall a single memory of being hurt and comforted like that. Her relationship with her siblings had also been distant and cold.

After college, her mother had walked out on the family—leaving Sara to face a new nightmare: a stepmother who entered their lives like a storm.

Sara still remembered the evening she returned home and heard her younger siblings crying. She rushed inside to find her stepmother mercilessly beating her little brother. Maybe the woman didn't hear Sara enter.

The sight made Sara's blood boil. Whatever her issues with her siblings, she could never bear to see someone else hurt them—especially not a stranger, especially not like this.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a belt from the woman's hand, slammed her against the wall, and snarled through clenched teeth, "How dare you touch my siblings!"

Sara's eyes were blazing red with fury. Her brother and sister—barely teenagers—stood trembling. She didn't hesitate. She packed them onto her old sports bike and left that house that very night.

Two days later, she returned when she learned her father had come back from a business trip. She wanted to tell him the truth—that his wife was a monster. But he didn't listen. He believed the woman's twisted lies.

Sara could still remember his words:"Sara, you're just like your mother. Fire. Always burning yourself—and others."

The rest of what he said was no less cruel. On her stepmother's suggestion, Sara was locked inside the house for a week like a criminal under house arrest.

That memory made her fists tighten.

The cold wind snapped her out of her thoughts. The bitterness of that day still stung her tongue.

If there was one person Sara truly hated in the world, it was her stepmother.

A sudden fear crept into her heart—how were her siblings now? Had that woman continued to torment them? Would they even recognize Sara if she returned? She had become independent after turning eighteen, no longer relying on her family. Even while living under the same roof, she paid for her own food and expenses.

She thought, Max and Hazel must be seventeen by now. Do they ever think of me?Would Dad talk to me if I returned?

Once her best friend, even her father had turned his back on her because of that woman.

She had no family photo left, but there were still some things—small keepsakes left behind by her real mother. Things locked away in her old room. She'd never had the courage to look through them.

But maybe… now was the time.

Realizing she'd been sitting for far too long, Sara stood. Her back and legs ached from remaining in the same position.

It was 6:00 p.m. when a middle-aged man suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Sara," he said."May I speak with you?"

She looked at him, cautious.

Half an hour later, they sat in a nearby café. The man was absorbed in a stack of papers, while Sara subtly studied him from head to toe. He wasn't dressed formally, but not casually either. His features were sharp, his body still well-maintained. His glasses rested neatly on the bridge of his nose, adding to his dignified look. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, though his partially graying hair gave him an air of authority. His voice, though calm, held strength.

Eventually, Sara broke the silence.

"Are you… a debt collector or something?" she asked—not rudely, but with caution.

The man looked up briefly, then returned to his papers. Two minutes later, he handed her an envelope.

"My name is Li Cheng," he said. "I've been searching for you for quite some time. This envelope is something your mother entrusted to me."

Sara froze."My… mother?"

"Yes, Miss Sara. It's time for you to return. I can't explain everything just yet, but your mother gave you a wooden box, didn't she? This envelope is closely tied to that. Once your exams are over, you must come to America immediately. Don't worry about the flight—I'll arrange everything. Just do as I say."

Sara's brows furrowed.

"And why should I believe you even know my mother? Why should I blindly follow your instructions? I don't even know who you are."

Li Cheng listened patiently, unfazed. His manner was calm, like a seasoned businessman.

"Sara," he replied gently, "there's no time to explain everything now. But you'll need to trust me. I was the one who brought you to the airport years ago—and the one who sent Alexa to you."

At the mention of Alexa, Sara stiffened.

How did he know her? And if he was connected to Alexa, then… who exactly was he?

"I know you have many questions," he said. "But you'll find your answers once you return to America."

Sara stared at him for a long moment, then finally spoke.

"Look… Mr. Li. I don't know you. But since you're holding an envelope with my mother's signature on it, and it looks genuine… I don't think you're a bad man. So I'll agree to listen—for now."

Li Cheng smiled faintly, then stood.

"Thank you, Miss Sara. Have a pleasant evening."

Without another word, he turned and walked away—leaving Sara behind with a thousand unanswered questions.

She glanced at the envelope in her hand, took a deep breath, and began walking slowly back toward the dorm, coffee in hand.

Perhaps fate was once again preparing to turn the page in her story.

___________________________________________________________________>>>>***>>>***>>>***

A Few Days Later

Since that night, Zero had been trying everything to keep himself together—to appear normal. There was one moment when he nearly told Sam the truth, but he pulled back. He couldn't risk it again.

They were at Sam's place now, hunched over a chaotic desk littered with textbooks and half-eaten cup noodles. Both had white headbands tied across their foreheads like worn-out warriors before battle, drained by days of studying.

"Zero, why can't you ever be human for once?" Sam muttered, rummaging through a pile of notes for a lost pencil. "You always wait till the day before exams to pretend you're going to become a scholar."

Zero gave a lazy grin. "As if you're any better, bro. You study all year and still look more stressed than me. Look at me—chill, man, chill."

"I swear I'll toss you into the freezer if you chill any more," Sam snapped with a scowl.

Neither of them had spoken about the drama series Zero had been watching. Sam had noticed, and he was confused—but now wasn't the time to ruin the mood. He stayed quiet.

"Hey, Sam," Zero said suddenly, his voice low and strange. "Do you ever wonder… if someday we were separated for any reason… would you miss me?"

Sam looked up and replied without hesitation, "No."

One-word answer.

Zero burst out laughing. "Liar. You bastard."

He picked up the thickest book and smacked it lightly against Sam's head.

"Agh! Do you even know how heavy that is! And I'm not lying!" Sam protested, looking away.

Zero's grin widened. "Your ears turn red when you lie. You know that?"

Sam's face changed like a kid caught stealing candy. "It's just cold, alright? That's why they're red."

Zero leaned in, teasing. "Right… even with the heater turned fully to your side?"

He began poking Sam with chopsticks while laughing. Sam started laughing too. He was shy—and Zero knew it all too well, which only made teasing him more fun.

Suddenly, a muffled vibration broke through the room. The sound was barely audible under the mountain of notes. Their chaotic study space looked like a hurricane had swept through it, and both boys froze mid-laughter.

The phone. Buried somewhere.

Sam scanned the mess while Zero started digging.

"Mission: Find Phone. Go!" Zero declared like it was a top-secret operation.

After a small war, he pulled it out victoriously. "Yes! Mission accomplished!"

Sam chuckled. "Even finding his phone is a mission…"

But the screen dimmed their laughter.

Unknown Number.

Both grew serious.

Zero answered the call. "Hello, who's this?"

A girl's voice came through. "Is this Mr. Zeyad?"

"Yes," Zero said, suddenly formal.

"This is Amy from XX Hospital. We need to inform you—it's an emergency—"

"What!?" Zero shouted.

His face turned pale. Sam's heart skipped a beat just watching him.

"I'm coming… ASAP," Zero said stiffly and hung up.

He stood frozen, breath shallow, hands trembling.

"Zero... Zero?" Sam stepped forward, calling his name, but Zero wasn't listening. He was flipping between apps, searching flights, grabbing books, shoving things into his bag.

"Zero—Zero—Zeyad!" Sam finally yelled.

Zero stopped, turned sharply, eyes wild.

"My parents," he said in a shaking voice. "A car crash. It's… critical, Sam. I have to go."

"What?! Uncle? Aunty?" Sam's voice cracked.

Zero nodded. "They're in the operating room. I need to fly out."

He began frantically packing again.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"7:00 PM."

Zero pulled up the soonest flight and booked the one leaving at 9:00.

"Pray for them, okay?" he said, voice trembling. "I'll probably give my exams online… if I give them at all."

He headed to the door.

Sam stood silently.

At the threshold, Zero stopped. His back faced Sam.

"…Samael," he whispered. "I feel like… we may never see each other again."

He hesitated, voice breaking.

"But… thank you. For calling me your brother. Thank you for everything. And… forgive me. I couldn't be what you wanted."

Before Sam could say a word, Zero turned around and stepped forward fast. He grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

Sam wasn't ready—not for the sudden weight, not for the force behind Zero's arms, not for what came next.

Zero pressed his lips to Sam's.

Hard. Desperate. Unapologetic.

Sam's eyes widened. He wanted to resist, but Zero's grip was too strong. He held Sam by the waist, pulled him in, their bodies flush. Zero's eyes were closed. His lips tasted of salt—tears. He kissed him like he'd waited a lifetime, like he wouldn't get another chance. Right, left, his mouth moved across Sam's like a storm, like prayer.

And Sam—shocked, breathless—could only take it.

Zero's heart was pounding. His hands trembled,

Zero's eyes were shut tight as he kissed Sam—deep, hungry, trembling. He tasted him slowly, drinking in the softness of Sam's lips like a secret he was afraid to lose. He tilted his head one way, then the other, pulling Sam closer, deeper, as if this one kiss had to speak every word he'd never said.

Tears slipped from the corners of Zero's closed eyes, hot and quiet, as their racing heartbeats filled the space between them. Sam's doubts—the confusion he had buried for so long—all of it melted away in that overwhelming heat.

This… this was what he had been too afraid to name.

And Zero? He had lost all control. He held on to Sam like he would disappear if he let go.

He didn't stop.

He kissed Sam for what felt like eternity—lips trembling, moving, seeking. Sam's lips, soft and warm, were like a drug he couldn't get enough of. They kept him grounded. They gave him the strength to stand.

They were his remedy.

Finally, breathless, Zero pulled away, just slightly. Sam stood there, frozen in shock. His lips were red, swollen, kissed raw by the storm that was Zero.

With his chest heaving and voice hoarse from emotion, Zero whispered:

"I love you, Samael," he whispered, voice breaking. "You're mine now."

And then—he turned and left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Sam stood frozen, still tasting the kiss on his lips. His mind couldn't keep up. His heart was racing. And Zero's voice echoed in his ears like a chant:

"I love you, Samael. You're mine."

His legs felt weak. The world tilted.

And Zero was gone—like wind.

TO BE CONTINEUD...