Shards of Memory [English - Under Revision]

Chapter 35: Sun

Skylane

The airport buzzed with overlapping sounds—rolling suitcases, flight announcements crackling overhead, the sharp hiss of espresso machines from a café nearby. All of it blurred together as my pulse roared in my ears.

My suitcase handle felt cold and too tight in my grip. Each step forward dragged like my shoes were filled with sand.

"Princess," Mom said softly beside me. Dad walked on my other side, calm but unreadable, while Dalyn followed just behind, hands in his pockets. "Your fiancé will meet you once you're checked in."

Fiancé. The word made my stomach twist, even now.

The woman at the counter smiled politely as she printed my ticket. I smiled back like my lips were stitched into place. One step, then another. Conveyor belt. Security check. Waiting lounge. My body moved like it had rehearsed this a thousand times, but my heart felt like it was drowning.

And then—

"Sky."

I froze. That voice. I DO know him.

He stood there, neat shirt, duffel bag over his shoulder, expression more formal than his usual easy grin.

"K-Kingsley?" My voice trembled. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled faintly, steady, almost... resigned. "I'm here to accompany you. Don't worry, you won't be alone."

My eyes flicked to the folded note in his hand, to the curve of the letters scribbled on it. My chest seized.

That handwriting.

It was the same I'd stared at for months in those letters from Sun. The familiar loop of Y's, the tilt of G's. Recognition slammed into me.

It was him.

That was why the writing in Palawan had felt like déjà vu. I'd seen it in class notes, in casual scrawls across forms. Kingsley. It had always been Kingsley.

My stomach twisted. My mind scrambled through every letter, every carefully chosen word that had once felt like a lifeline. All this time, it was him?

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't decide if I felt betrayed or foolish or both. He didn't confirm it. He didn't deny it. Just gave me that same steady look.

The boarding announcement echoed overhead, metallic and impersonal. "Flight PR 844 to Paris boarding now at Gate 7."

The words rang like a verdict.

I gripped my bag tighter. Maybe this was fate. Maybe this was what I was meant to walk into.

As we moved toward the gate, my eyes snagged on a departure board nearby. The letters flickered for a moment, glitching, before stabilizing again. A single word flashed brighter than the rest before fading:

DELAYED.

I blinked, shook my head, told myself it was nothing. Just a technical error. But still... something about it lodged under my ribs, strange and stubborn.

Kingsley walked beside me, silent and solid. I forced my feet forward. Yet in the back of my mind, one thought kept clawing up, no matter how much I shoved it down:

And yet... as I glanced back, just once, at the airport doors, a part of me still ached with a foolish hope.

Would Blaise come running after me?

But no. There was no sign of him.

Not then.

Isn't this what I asked for anyway? I did avoid him. I did accept to be bethrotred to someone else. So why am I still thinking of him?