Why does it feel like I'm still losing?

Sunlight filtered through the tall, sheer curtains like it was afraid to touch anything. The room was too quiet. No birdsong, no city noise, no sign of life except the steady ticking of the radio clock—7:02 a.m.

I blinked slowly, disoriented, the memory of last night dripping back into me like a slow poison. Callahan’s hands on my waist. The water. The coldness. Leon’s words. It all felt like a fever dream.

My mouth was dry, and my limbs ached with exhaustion that sleep hadn’t cured.

I sat up and glanced at the side of the bed Callahan had claimed last night—it was empty. Neatly made. I didn’t even hear him leave. The same way I hadn’t heard him return the night before until the door flung open.

I shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the tap, letting icy water shock my face. I stared at myself in the mirror, in the full-length mirror unsure of what I was looking for something to ground me? A sign this life would start to make sense?Insted of finding that, laughter bubbled up unexpectedly at the absurdity of it all. Who puts a full-length mirror in their bathroom? But as I gazed at my reflection, laughter faded into dismay. The bandages wrapped around my head and wrists felt like shackles rather than healing aids; dark circles under my eyes. Oliver’s eyes in my face. Tired. Dull. Haunted. It's still your face. I tried to reassure myself. Just in a different life.

After changing the bandages with shaky hands, brushing my teeth, and washing away some of the fatigue from my face, I did what I could to appear somewhat presentable before leaving the bathroom.

When I got downstairs, a maid was already waiting in the dining room. She offered a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good morning, sir. Would you like to have breakfast here or in the garden?”

I almost laughed. The garden? What kind of man ate alone in a garden like some romantic ghost? Oliver apparently.

“Here is fine,” I muttered as I walked to the dining table and sat.

She nodded and vanished, like she’d never been there at all. Moments later, more maids appeared and food was placed gently before me—fruit, toast, eggs arranged like I was royalty, no pun intended. But again, the idea of eating felt... absurd.

I managed a few bites before pushing the plate away.

“You eat like you’re preparing to die.”

Callahan’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. I stiffened, slowly turning to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shirt sleeves rolled up and collar undone—casual in a way that made him look even more dangerous.

“I didn’t hear you come in, I thought you might have left for work already,” I said stiffly.

“Well, I haven't. I wanted to talk to you before I leave. I didn't want to wake you,"

A beat of silence stretched between us.

“Didn’t you say there’s nothing between us?” I asked finally, voice flat. “So why do you care whether I eat or not?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room to sit across from me. He didn’t touch any of the food. Just watched me. It made my skin itch.

“You’re not Oliver,” he said at last.

The words stunned me. I froze.

“What?”

“You’re not the same.” His tone wasn’t accusing. Just... observant. “Oliver never asked where I went. Never raised his voice. He was quiet. Careful. Distant. You’re... not.”

I swallowed. Hard. “Is that a problem?”

Callahan looked at me for a long time. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes—recognition? Regret? Boredom? I couldn’t tell. Maybe even he didn’t know.

“No,” he said finally. “Just different.”

He stood, walking toward the exit, but paused before leaving.

“Don’t think I'll be different just because you are,” he said without looking back. “It's not going to happen."

And then he was gone.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the untouched half of the table, unsure of what I felt.

Later that day, I found a small study tucked behind the grand staircase—one of the rooms I’d missed yesterday. Dust lined the bookshelves, like no one had stepped inside in weeks. Maybe months.

I ran a finger along the spines of old novels, medical texts, personal journals written in flowing cursive. I sat in the window seat, hugging my knees again, like I used to when I was younger, in my past life, waiting for someone who wouldn’t come back. It almost feels like I'm doing the same now.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered to no one.

A soft breeze stirred the curtains, though no window was open.

“You’re not supposed to know,” Leon’s voice came, more like a breath than a sound.

I didn’t even flinch this time.

“You keep saying that,” I muttered. “But you never say what I should do.”

Leon stood in the corner now, solid as a shadow. “Because the point isn’t doing what someone tells you. It’s choosing for yourself. Even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts.”

“Why does it all feel so familiar?” I asked, curling tighter. “Why does it still feel like I’m losing?”

Leon was quiet for a moment before replying. “Because you’re still grieving. Not just your past life. But the idea that this one would fix everything.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

And just like that, he was gone.

I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window, watching nothing outside, and whispered:

“I’m scared this is going to be just like before.”

I must have fallen asleep because then I was being shaken awake gently. I blinked my eyes open, a face coming into my vision.

“Hey, Royal,” Eniz greeted with a warm smile.

I sighed and sat up, rubbing my eyes sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged nonchalantly but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Well, that’s nice,” I replied, feeling a flicker of gratitude spark within me. “And since you’re here…how did you know I'll be here?”

His smile turned sad. "It's where you come when you want space, you know I know that."

"Oh, yeah." I nodded trying not to show how new that fact is to me. "How long was I asleep?"

"Awhile apparently," he replied sitting beside me. "At least that's what the maids say, you sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine,"

He grabbed my hands, standing up and pulling me with him. "Then, come have lunch with me, I brought your favorite ice cream cake,"

I nodded, allowing him to drag me out of the room.