The message Ansel sent this afternoon still lingered in Heka's mind, making him hesitate more than he had anticipated. The words on the screen seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy, stirring a storm of conflicting emotions within him.
Yet, on the other hand, his conscience tugged him in the opposite direction, as if an invisible hand was guiding him toward Ansel. It was a strange, almost magnetic pull, one that felt less like a choice and more like destiny.
Adding to his turmoil was the unwavering support he had received from Clancy. Her belief in him, her steady encouragement, had become a beacon of light in his confusion. Clancy's confidence in facing Ansel gave Heka a newfound strength, a reassurance that perhaps avoiding Ansel was not the answer.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of contemplation, he took a deep breath and typed out a reply to Ansel's message. He didn't expect an immediate response. He knew Ansel was likely fast asleep by now, wrapped in the comfort of dreams far removed from Heka's restless reality.
His fingers hovered over the send button for a moment before he pressed it, the words simple but resolute:
"There's no hazard in trying, whatever the risks."
He took out his smartphone and typed a message reply,
I've been busy and haven't been able to meet you
Maybe next week
I will text you again.
The message he sent was final-his decision, carved in digital ink, unchangeable and resolute. At least, for now, he has bought himself some precious time until next week.
While the days stretched ahead, he deliberately chose to divert his mind, to bury himself deeper in his work. The tasks and deadlines became his refuge, a fortress against the swirling thoughts that threatened to consume him.
Tomorrow, he told himself firmly, tomorrow held no obligations, no encounters. He would not spend a moment with Ansel tomorrow, nor the day after. He needed this distance, this breathing room, to regain control.
As the hours slipped by, day by day, his conscience grew sharper, more insistent. Sleep became elusive, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. In the quiet solitude of the night, when the world was still and shadows lengthened, he sensed a subtle but profound change within himself. As he could suddenly see through the façades people wore, reading their true characters with unsettling clarity.
But this time, unlike before, he had crossed a line, a decision made that went against every principle he had ever held dear.
Who knew what dark consequences might follow? The possibilities haunted him, yet he refused to dwell on them. To imagine the worst would only paralyze him, and he needed to stay strong.
Because he didn't know what it was at all. But one thing was obvious. It was not something that brings happiness, but disaster.
****
One week had passed, Heka was still busy with his laptop. He became a workaholic. He took on too many tasks, which made him overwhelmed. As he typed furiously, his eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was still 10:00 a.m
The weight of responsibilities pressed down on him, leaving him overwhelmed and exhausted, yet unable to stop. Work was his refuge, a way to drown out the persistent thoughts that threatened to break through his carefully constructed walls.
He seemed to have forgotten something. Suddenly, it hit him: he was supposed to meet Ansel today.
For Heka, this was oddly a good thing. The looming meeting forced him to confront what he had been trying so hard to avoid. In a way, it was a sign that he had managed to keep his mind off the darker thoughts, at least for a while.
But deep down, Heka knew this was only a diversion. A fragile shield against the inevitable. He understood that ignoring Ansel completely was not the answer.
The meeting was necessary, a step he had to take despite the fear gnawing at his insides. What he truly needed was to find a way to breathe freely again, to reclaim the calm before his breath became shallow and painful with anxiety.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the encounter ahead. Whatever awaited him with Ansel, he knew he had to face it, not just for the sake of their tangled past, but for his own peace of mind.
Then he took his smartphone in hand, fingers trembling slightly as he hesitated before pressing Ansel's contact. Before making the call, he reread the last message Ansel had sent. His eyes lingered on the enigmatic phrase: soul delivery.
The words echoed in his mind, mysterious and heavy with unspoken meaning. What did Ansel truly mean by that? Was it a promise, a warning, or something else entirely? The question hung unanswered, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
While the phone rang, he tried to concentrate on finishing his work, fingers moving mechanically over the keyboard. The tension in his chest grew with every passing second, the silence on the other end amplifying his unease.
The first call went unanswered. No voice, no click of connection, just the cold, persistent ringing. Undeterred, he tried again, hoping this time Ansel would answer. But the result was the same. No response. No sign that Ansel was even there.
Frustration and confusion welled up inside him, but he refused to let his mind spiral into worst-case scenarios. Instead, he simply tossed his smartphone onto the bed with a soft thud.
Right now, his work was all that mattered. He had taken on too many tasks, and the looming deadlines demanded his full attention.
As the hours passed, the question of whether Ansel would contact him again faded into the background. He felt a strange laziness, a weariness that made him indifferent to being ignored.
Thirty minutes later, his phone rang and he just ignored it. After a few minutes, his phone rang again. He just looked at who was calling him. He was Ansel.