Chapter 16: Khai's Achilles Heel

Khai's POV

I lost control again.

I clenched my bruised hands as I walked aimlessly through the dimly lit streets of Chicago. My knuckles stung from the fight, but it was nothing compared to the ache that settled deep in my chest. If there was one thing I was certain about, it was this—I would do anything to protect Rain, even if it meant protecting her from myself.

That's why I let her go.

But seeing her tonight, watching her smile at someone else, feeling the sharp sting of her indifference—it made me realize just how much of a fool I was to believe that time would make it easier. It didn't. It only made the longing worse, turning it into something I couldn't quite name, something that burned even when I tried to douse it with reason.

I should have just walked away at that bar. I should have ignored Luna, should have let Rain handle it herself. She wasn't mine to protect anymore. But the moment I saw that discomfort in her eyes, the hesitation in her stance, the way Luna's hand gripped her waist like she had the right—I snapped.

I fucking lost it.

And now, here I am, another wreckage in my wake, another proof of why I shouldn't be near her.

I exhaled sharply, looking up at the night sky. The city lights flickered above, but they didn't hold any warmth, just like the empty space beside me where Rain used to be. I tried to remind myself that this was for the best. She had someone now. Someone stable. Someone who wouldn't destroy her like I almost did.

And yet, as much as I wanted to convince myself that I was nothing but a ghost from her past, the way she looked at me tonight told me otherwise.

There was still something there.

Something unresolved.

And that terrified me more than anything.

Because if Rain was my weakness, then I was her storm. And I didn't know how much longer I could keep myself from dragging her into the chaos with me.

The Flashback:

The memory crashes into me like a storm surge—violent, relentless, and suffocating.

I was standing in the middle of that dimly lit warehouse, the weight of the gun in my hand heavier than the years of guilt pressing down on my shoulders. My grip trembled, but not from fear. It was exhaustion—the kind that seeped into my bones, the kind that made breathing feel like a burden rather than a necessity.

"Khalia! Drop the gun! Khai, this is not you—" Ella's voice cut through the suffocating silence, desperate and raw. She was standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with something that looked a lot like heartbreak. "Khai, please. I know you've been battling your demons. I know how the years have caught up with you, especially losing both of your parents... but please, don't do this."

I swallowed hard, my chest heaving. She didn't understand. None of them did.

"Khai, put it down," Poppa's voice followed, steady but firm. He was pleading, but there was no fear in his tone. He had seen me at my worst, but even now, even as I stood on the precipice of complete destruction, he refused to look at me like I was beyond saving.

I let out a shaky breath. "I'm so tired, Poppa..." My voice was hoarse, hollow. "I don't know how to keep going. I don't even know if I want to."

His eyes softened with understanding, but his steps remained cautious as he moved closer. "I know, Khalia. I know you're tired. I know you want to end this, but this?" He gestured to the gun in my hands, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This is not how you end it, kid."

I felt the first tear slip down my cheek, hot and bitter. My fingers twitched around the trigger, hesitation warring with despair. Then, before I could even process it, Poppa reached forward and wrapped his rough, calloused hands over mine. The gun slipped from my grip with ease, as if it had never truly belonged there in the first place.

As soon as it was out of my hands, he exhaled sharply and shook his head. His disappointment was palpable, heavier than any bullet could ever be.

"Damn it, Khalia." His voice cracked, but there was no anger, only something deeper—something that burned. "You know what the silver lining in all of this is?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

He didn't need me to.

"That Rain finally decided to let go," he continued, his voice laced with quiet devastation. "Because if she didn't, she'd still be holding on to someone who's a fucking time bomb."

The words slammed into me harder than any punch, any gunshot.

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "This? This is how you protect Rain?" His gaze burned into mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely exposed. "By turning yourself into something she would've spent the rest of her life trying to save? By becoming the weight that would've drowned her?"

I wanted to scream, to tell him that I never wanted to be this person. That I never wanted to hurt Rain. That all I ever wanted was to love her the way she deserved.

But love alone was never enough.

And that night, I realized—maybe I never was, either.

I was snapped back to reality by the blaring horn of a taxi. "Get out of the fucking street!" the driver yelled, breaking the chaos of my mind. The world around me felt distant, unreal, as I staggered to the side of the road. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting at the bar counter of the hotel, the glass of whiskey in front of me trembling slightly as I took another sip, drowning myself in the burn of it all.

I fished my phone from my pocket and dialed Ella's number, needing to hear a voice, anyone's voice, but hers in particular.

"Hey, you," I slurred into the phone, a forced smile stretching across my face. I waved the glass of scotch in my hand like it could chase away the storm inside me.

She sighed on the other end. "Hey, you're supposed to not drink alcohol anymore."

"Ahhh, fuck it, Ella. This is just for today," I muttered, the bitterness in my voice matching the whiskey's bite.

Her tone shifted, concern creeping in. "Khai, remember last time?"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to remind me, Ella," I snapped, irritation mixing with the haze of alcohol already clouding my thoughts.

She sighed again, softer this time. "What happened to you? And what happened to your hand?"

I shrugged, pretending not to care, but the truth was I wasn't sure anymore. I leaned back in my seat, the weight of the evening settling on my shoulders.

"Khalia!!" she said sharply, using that commanding voice of hers. The one that always made me feel like I was still the girl who needed saving, even when I didn't want to admit it.

"I just picked a small fight with some douche-knuckles at the bar earlier?" I replied, my voice a little too casual, as if I wasn't falling apart inside.

"Oh come on," she responded. "You just had a few days in Chicago, and now you're picking fights already?"

I signaled the waiter to bring me a bottle of whiskey, the need for something stronger crawling up my spine.

"Khai, enough of it. You're already drunk," she said, her voice soft but firm, a warning I didn't have the energy to heed.

"I'm not drunk," I protested, a grin tugging at my lips despite myself. "You know I'm drunk if I'm not talking to you anymore."

But truthfully, I could feel the effects of the alcohol running down through my system already. After the barista handed me the bottle of whiskey, I stumbled my way up to my hotel room. The door clicked shut behind me, and I collapsed onto the floor of the balcony, the city lights blinking like stars that couldn't reach me.

I unscrewed the bottle and took another long swig. The warmth of the alcohol seemed to mix with the ache in my chest, drowning it all out just enough for me to breathe.

Then, I called out to Ella again, even though I knew it was a bad idea.

"Elle, I'm sorry for bothering you," I said quietly into the phone, "and thanks for picking up when I needed someone to talk to."

Ella's voice softened, but there was a hint of exhaustion in it now. "You're welcome? But please, enough of that, and get yourself a proper rest."

I didn't say anything else, just hung up the phone and sat there, watching the city unfold beneath me, the night slipping away as the alcohol continued to dull everything.

The silence hung in the air until a soft knock at the door broke it.

I blinked, confused and slightly dizzy, then slowly pushed myself off the floor. I stumbled over to the door and opened it, only to find...

Sofi.

Her dark eyes flickered with a mix of concern and uncertainty as she stood there in the hallway, the cold air from the outside creeping in behind her.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her voice low but steady.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, before nodding slightly.

"Yeah," I muttered, stepping aside to let her in.

As the door clicked shut behind her, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was happening now—whatever was coming—was another moment I wouldn't be able to outrun.

I let her in.

She stepped inside, her presence bringing a strange sense of calm to the chaos in my head. The scent of her perfume mixed with the lingering alcohol in the room, grounding me for a moment.

"Are you drinking alone?" Sofi asked, her voice gentle but laced with concern.

I took another sip before replying, "I am." Then I glanced at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I was driving home and passed by your hotel. I thought you might need some company," she said casually, but there was something deeper in her tone.

I exhaled, setting my glass down. "Thank you, by the way," I said after a pause.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "For what?"

"For taking care of my hand," I murmured, glancing down at the faint bandages she had placed earlier.

Sofi gave me a small smile. "I brought some bandages so you can clean your bruises and wound tomorrow."

I studied her for a moment, then asked the question that had been lingering in my mind. "Why are you doing this?"

She hesitated, as if my words caught her off guard. Then, after a beat, she put the medicine bag on the bedside table and looked at me—really looked at me.

"Because I like you, Khai," she admitted, her voice unwavering. "And I don't care if you have a history with Rain."

I stared at her, stunned.

"Sofi—"

She stepped closer, cutting me off before I could say more.

"I appreciate your honesty," I finally managed to say, breaking the heavy silence between us. "I like you. You're kind, you're warm, and you're easy to be around—"

She interrupted me again, this time with a question that sent a chill through me.

"Hey, can we pretend that nothing else matters for tonight?" she whispered, her eyes searching mine. "I like you, Khai."

She reached up, cupping my face gently. "I just want to be with you here tonight."

I felt the weight of her words settle between us. A part of me wanted to let go, to allow myself to escape into something easy, something that didn't come with ghosts and regrets. But that wouldn't be fair to her. It wouldn't be fair to me either.

I took a step back, creating space between us.

"Look," I said softly, "you're a great friend, and I appreciate your concern. But I don't want to take advantage of your kindness just to soothe my loneliness. You deserve more than that."

I cupped her face gently, mirroring her earlier touch. "Thank you. Really. For being here tonight. For checking in on me."

She smiled—sad but understanding—before pulling me into a hug.

"Thank you, Khai, for being honest with me."

I held onto her for a moment, grateful for her presence, but knowing deep down that some things just weren't meant to be.

The next morning came too fast. I packed my things, ready to leave Chicago after finalizing the contracts with the suppliers.

"Thank you, Ms. Stanton," Mr. Steiner said as we shook hands. "I'll make sure to send all the necessary details regarding logistics and shipping."

"Appreciate it," I replied with a nod before leaving his office.

With business concluded, I made my way to the F&V building to bid farewell to Mr. Boyd and the team. Rain wasn't there—she had a meeting. Maybe it was for the best. I asked Mr. Boyd to pass along my goodbye before heading out.

Before going straight to the airport, I took a detour to Sofi's restaurant.

As soon as I stepped in, she greeted me with a warm smile. "Hey, Khai—I thought you left already."

"Not yet," I said, returning her smile. "I'm heading to the airport now, but I wanted to drop by and say thank you again."

She studied me for a moment before nodding. "You didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

"And..." I hesitated for a beat before continuing, "Tell Michelle and Alice that I'm very sorry for what happened last night. For what it's worth, you guys are amazing to be with, and I'm glad I met you."

Sofi smiled, but there was something else in her expression—understanding, maybe even a little sadness. "They'll appreciate that, Khai."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" I added.

"You too," she said. "Safe flight."

I gave her one last nod before stepping out, the weight of the past few days settling deep in my chest.

It was time to leave Chicago.

Sitting in the airport lounge, I stared blankly at the boarding screen, my mind wandering as I waited for my flight. Chicago had been a storm—memories, unfinished business, and emotions I thought I had buried long ago.

Then, my phone buzzed. A message.

Rain: Safe flight.

I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening around my phone. A simple message, yet it held so much weight.

For a moment, I considered replying. Thank you. Take care. See you around.

But I didn't. Instead, I locked my phone and placed it face down on the table.

Last night, after what I told Sofi, something inside me shifted. Maybe it was long overdue, but I finally understood—I needed to fix things. Not just the chaos I left behind, but myself. My past. The demons I never truly faced.

Because if I didn't, I'd keep running in circles. Hurting the people who cared. Sabotaging any chance of something real.

I inhaled deeply, straightening in my seat as the final boarding call echoed through the terminal.

It was time. Time to let go of the weight I'd been carrying for years.

Time to finally make room for whatever the future had in store for me.

As the plane leveled off, I stared out the window at the vast, empty sky. It felt like a mirror of the space she used to occupy in my life. A space I'd tried to fill with other things, other people. But no matter how strong I pretend to be, no matter how far I run, I know one thing for sure: Rain will always be my Achilles heel. And until I deal with that, until I face the truth of what she means to me, I'll always be walking a tightrope, one wrong step away from falling.