I stood there for a while after I called him.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it in the air around him, in the way silence had started clinging to him differently now—not peaceful like before, not calm. It was heavier. Like something inside him had been replaced with emptiness.
He wasn't himself anymore.
Or maybe he was… just not fully here.
Jace always used to have that quiet presence that made things feel stable, even when he wasn't speaking. But now… now it felt like I was looking at someone who was only half-present, like part of him had drifted somewhere far away and never came back.
"Jace," I called softly at first.
He didn't respond.
He was standing near the kitchen counter, staring at nothing in particular. His posture was straight, but it didn't look natural. It looked forced, like he was holding himself together out of habit rather than awareness.
"Jace!" I called again, louder this time. My voice cracked slightly without me meaning to.
That finally made him turn.
His eyes widened slightly, like he had been pulled out of somewhere far away.
"Mom," he answered quickly, almost too quickly. "What's wrong?"
I stared at him.
Not because I didn't have words—but because I had too many.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I said slowly, stepping closer.
"Jace… it's been six months."
His eyes flickered.
"Six months since you've been like this," I continued, my voice rising despite myself. "What is going on? What happened to you?"
He blinked once.
Then forced a small smile.
"It's nothing, Mom," he said quietly.
"I'm fine. It's nothing to worry about."
But I could see it.
The lie didn't even reach his eyes.
I saw everything he was trying to hide.
The exhaustion.
The emptiness behind his gaze.
The slight tremble in his fingers as he gripped the edge of the counter too tightly.
And worst of all—
The way he looked like he was constantly somewhere else.
Like even when he stood in front of me, part of him was still trapped elsewhere.
Somewhere I couldn't reach.
I took a slow breath, forcing myself not to push too hard.
Because I knew him.
Or at least I thought I did.
And right now, pushing too hard would only make him shut down completely.
So I softened my voice.
"For now," I said quietly, "I won't force you."
His shoulders loosened slightly, like he had been bracing for impact.
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.
"I'm not letting this slide, Jace," I added firmly. "I'll ask again. Just not today."
He nodded slowly.
Not because he agreed.
But because he looked too tired to argue.
Too tired to exist properly.
And that scared me more than anything else.
"What on earth happened to him?" I whispered under my breath long after he left the room.
________________________
Am I being too hard on myself?
That question had been repeating in my head for weeks.
My grades dropped without warning.
I stopped caring enough to fix it.
I didn't tell Mom.
I didn't tell anyone.
I begged the teachers not to call home, not because I was proud—but because I didn't want more questions I couldn't answer.
I used to be good at hiding things.
At pretending I was fine.
At wearing a mask so convincing even I started believing it sometimes.
But now…
It wasn't working anymore.
The cracks were visible.
And I could feel it.
Every time I smiled, it felt wrong.
Every time I spoke, it felt rehearsed.
Every time I tried to act normal, it felt like I was standing on something fragile that could collapse any second.
Mom asked me what was going on.
I didn't know where to start.
How do you tell someone that your life stopped feeling real six months ago?
How do you explain that you wake up and feel like you're still stuck in the same moment?
That you can't breathe properly unless you're thinking about someone who isn't there anymore?
I couldn't.
So I said nothing.
And kept breaking quietly.
"You're crying."
The voice came out of nowhere.
Calm.
Familiar.
Wrong in a way that made my entire body freeze.
"Young man…"
I spun around so fast my head went dizzy.
My vision blurred for a second as I stumbled back.
And there he was.
The old man.
Standing like he had always been there.
Like he had never left.
Like he wasn't supposed to exist in the first place.
My breath caught.
"You…" I whispered. "Where have you been?"
He sighed, shaking his head slowly.
As if disappointed in something I hadn't done yet.
"Are you truly ready?" he asked.
My heart pounded instantly.
All the grief, confusion, anger—everything rushed back at once.
"Yes," I said immediately. "Yes, I am. I'd do anything. Just tell me what to do."
There wasn't hesitation.
Not anymore.
Not after six months of waking up with a hollow chest.
Not after seeing her face in everything.
Not after realizing that even time wasn't healing anything—it was just making the pain quieter, not smaller.
The old man studied me for a long moment.
Then finally nodded.
He looked away slightly.
"How was your friend," he asked slowly, "when she was still alive?"
The question caught me off guard.
It wasn't what I expected.
My throat tightened immediately.
I blinked.
"What?"
"I will not repeat myself," he said flatly.
I swallowed hard.
Her life…
The memories came rushing in before I could stop them.
Her silence.
Her fear.
The way she flinched at everything.
The way she looked like she had been surviving long before I met her.
"She… didn't have a normal childhood," I said quietly, my voice shaking slightly despite my effort to control it. "It was bad. Really bad."
I looked away.
"I don't want to say too much… but it wasn't easy for her. It was… hell."
My hands clenched.
Even saying it felt like reopening something sealed.
The old man didn't react.
Not a single expression changed.
"She is not just suffering," he said finally. "She is paying for someone else's sin."
My head snapped up instantly.
"What do you mean?"
My heart began to pound harder.
"What are you talking about?"
He watched me quietly for a moment.
Then spoke again, slower this time.
"Your friend is cursed."
A cold wave ran through me.
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"A curse?" I repeated. "Are you serious right now? This is some kind of joke—"
But my voice faltered when I saw his expression.
He wasn't smiling.
Wasn't joking.
Wasn't anything.
Just… watching.
Waiting.
My breath became uneven.
"You think she would be happy coming back to this life of endless pain and suffering?" he asked calmly.
I clenched my fists.
"I don't care," I said immediately. "I just want her back."
My voice broke slightly at the end.
"I just want her back…"
Even if it meant reopening everything.
Even if it meant dragging her back into something worse.
Even if it meant she would hate me for it.
The old man tilted his head slightly.
"Even though she would be unhappy?"
"Yes," I snapped. "I'll try to make her happy."
A dry, humorless laugh escaped him.
It wasn't kind.
It wasn't encouraging.
It sounded like someone laughing at something already decided long ago.
"A curse is a curse," he said. "She will never be happy in that life again unless you break it."
My chest tightened painfully.
"How?" I asked quickly. "Tell me how to break it."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then spoke slowly.
"To break it… she must return."
My heart skipped.
"Then bring her back," I said immediately.
But he raised a hand slightly.
"And to bring her back…"
He paused.
The silence stretched.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Final.
"…you must pay the price."
I froze.
The words didn't feel like a warning.
They felt like a door closing somewhere far away.
My voice came out quieter this time.
"What price?"
The old man's eyes darkened slightly.
And for the first time since he appeared, I felt something real behind his calmness.
Not kindness.
Not cruelty.
Something far more absolute.
"Not less than what you are willing to lose," he said.
My stomach dropped instantly.
The world around me suddenly felt too quiet.
Too still.
Like even the air was waiting for my answer.
And in that silence…
I realized something terrifying.
I wasn't just asking to bring her back.
I was being asked what I was willing to sacrifice to undo a death that the world itself might not allow to be reversed.
But even then…
Even with fear crawling up my spine…
My answer didn't change.
"I'll do it," I whispered.
"I'll pay whatever price it takes."
And somewhere in the distance—
I swear the air shifted.
Like something had finally accepted that I wasn't going to turn back anymore.