Cherry Blossoms, Soda Pop

The kitchen smelled of eggs and chocolate powder. Zina was humming under her breath, whisking batter in a plastic bowl, still wearing her pink pajamas. The morning cartoons played faintly in the living room.

She heard it then. The sharp intake of breath. The quiet sob. The silence that fell like a guillotine.

She frowned, leaving her whisk on the counter, and walked barefoot to the living room.

Her parents sat frozen on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Her mother's hands were pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father was shaking his head, muttering prayers under his breath.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?" Zina asked, confusion prickling her chest like needles.

They didn't answer. Her father turned slowly, eyes red-rimmed as he crouched down before her, taking her small hands in his trembling ones.

"Zina… baby… there was… an accident."

Her stomach dropped. The cartoon voices behind her felt distant, unreal. "What… accident?"

Her eyes darted to the TV screen. Breaking News banners scrolled across. An image of a smoking plane wreckage on a forested mountainside. Headlines screaming:

"Flight 258 – No Survivors Confirmed."

Her father's voice was trembling. "Zina… it was Malik's family plane. I'm so sorry, baby… I'm so sorry."

"No." Her voice was flat. Hollow. "No. Don't tell me that."

"Zina—"

"NO!!" she screamed, ripping her hands away from him. Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled back. "YOU'RE LYING! HE PROMISED HE'D COME BACK!"

Her mother sobbed harder, curling into her father's chest as he reached out to her.

But Zina ran. She ran to her room, slamming the door shut with trembling hands. She collapsed onto her bed, clutching Tiko to her chest, sobbing until her throat burned and her ribs ached. The smell of cherry vanilla soda pop lingered in her hair and on her lips.

Outside, the birds chirped and the sun shone golden. But her world had ended.

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They stood there for a long time, just staring at each other.

Malik felt something warm crawl up his throat as he drank her in. Zina. His Neve. But not the girl he remembered. This woman before him—she was sharper, brighter, and harder around the edges, like a glitter-coated blade.

Her once snow-white hair was now bubblegum pink, curling wildly down her back in candyfloss waves. Her red eyes, once innocent and round with childish wonder, now burned like molten rubies. Eyes of someone who had seen too much darkness and swallowed it whole to survive.

She was small—still short compared to him—but her body had changed. She had grown into herself beautifully, curves soft and feminine but underlined by toned slenderness, built from years of acrobatics and running from shadows in her mind. She shrugged off her damp raincoat, letting it fall to the floor with a wet slap. Underneath she wore tight black shorts and a hugging t-shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal pale arms littered with tiny strawberry-shaped stickers. On her legs, mismatched striped thigh-high socks—one pink-and-black stripe up to her thighs, the other only to her knees.

She ran a trembling hand through her hair, raking it out of her eyes, before sinking onto her bed with a silent exhale. Byte meowed worriedly at her feet, but she didn't notice.

Finally, she lifted her gaze to him, eyes narrowing with cold skepticism.

"If you really are Malik," she said softly, her voice like broken glass wrapped in velvet, "what's my favorite soda pop flavor?"

He blinked, startled at the question. "Cherry vanilla," he answered immediately.

She scoffed. "Anyone could guess that. It's all over my room."

A sad sigh escaped his chest. He dropped his head slightly, shadows hiding his eyes as memories flickered behind them.

"You hate physics but love coding," he began quietly. "You collect neon hair clips but never wear them outside. You bite your nails when you're thinking, even if they're painted. You sleep with one leg out of the blanket because you said the monster under your bed would get hot if you covered both. You…you name everything after food. Your favorite stuffed toy is Tiko because you said he looked like chocolate cream and you wanted to eat him."

Her breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes. His voice cracked as he whispered, "It's me, Neve. I'm alive."

But her tears turned into rage. She stood up so fast Byte scrambled away in fear.

"Alive?" she yelled, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You died in a plane crash! They said it fell in the sea! You couldn't have survived that. You…you couldn't have!"

He swallowed hard, forcing down the tremor in his voice. "I did," he rasped. "I was trapped in an airtight luggage compartment. For a week. Until divers found me. They belonged to…to the family I work for now."

"Family?" she spat. "What family?"

"Assassins," he whispered. "They…they were supposed to kill a client on that plane. They took me instead. Raised me. Trained me. I didn't… I didn't have a choice."

Her chest heaved as tears spilled down her cheeks in hot rivers. "Why didn't you come back?" she croaked. "Why didn't you look for me?"

He closed his eyes, pain etched into every line of his face. "Four years, Neve. Four years in solitude, training. I was twenty by the time they let me out. I didn't know how to come back to you. I didn't know what to expect. I thought…maybe you'd moved on. Maybe you'd be safer without me. Especially now that I'm…who I am."

She laughed bitterly, a sound so broken it carved a hole in his chest. "Bullshit. I was your family. Or did you forget your promise to come back for me? For years I mourned you! Oh my god—I fucking pay your grave fee every three months! I deliver flowers every Saturday! I went through therapy! I had to teach myself how to wake up every morning without wanting to die because you were gone! How could you do this to me?"

He took a shaky step forward. "Neve—calm down—"

"Don't you DARE tell me to calm down!" she screamed, grabbing the closest thing—her soda can—and throwing it at him. It clanged against his shoulder and fell to the floor, spraying fizz everywhere. She grabbed another, but before she could hurl it, he closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest.

She struggled violently, fists pounding at his chest, screams muffled by sobs. But he didn't let go. He held her tighter, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar cherry vanilla scent. His arms were iron bars, his warmth like a hearth she had been cold from for too long.

Finally, her screams dissolved into broken sobs. Her knees buckled and he held her weight effortlessly as she pressed her face into his chest, tears soaking his tactical vest.

He stroked her hair, gently patting down the frizzy curls. His voice shook as he murmured, "You changed so much…your hair…pink now. You're not my little sunshine girl anymore… you're an anime yandere hacker now."

She stiffened and pulled back, glaring at him with watery eyes. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

His lips twitched with a sad smile. "No. It's just…different."

She sniffled, wiping her nose with her wrist. "You changed too, Halo."

His chest clenched. Halo. Th

e name only she ever called him with so much love.

"I know," he whispered. "I know, Neve."