Page 155 of The Wishing Game

"I do not have a frame of reference for feelings. I may rationally understand them, but I do not know what feelingsfeellike."

My lids flutter rapidly.

"Are you serious? You're joking, right?" My voice ebbs as uncertainty grips me. It seems like a joke, but his countenance indicates it's not one.

He turns his head toward me, the purple of his eyes intensifying.

"Why would I joke?" he asks with a straight face.

"But... I don't understand. How can you not know what feelings feel like? You just have tofeel..." Maybe he has a hard time putting his emotions into words. We've already established he's not the greatest communicator.

"I cannot. Or at least..." he trails off, his lips flattening as a scowl mars his features. "I thought I could not. I am not sure." He blinks, emotions warring on his face. They're out there in the open, fighting for supremacy despite his proclamation that he cannot feel.

"Can you explain what you mean?" I ask softly. I can see he's struggling with this, and I hate the uncertainty mirrored in his expression.

His features tighten, his brows knit together as he muses quietly.

"I have been this way for as long as I remember. I can logically understand joy, sorrow, love, hate, envy and so on. Iunderstandthem, but I do not experience them. Or, at least, I could not experience them before."

"Before?"

He sighs.

"I was gravely injured in a battle and after I recovered, everything was...strange."

"Strange?" I probe further. He has a lost expression on his face, which tells me he doesn't understand what's happening to him.

"My compulsions have become...unnatural."

I frown. "Unnatural how?"

"They are...illogical. Irrational.Instinctual," he rasps in a rough voice. "As if there is anothermeinside of me that dictates my actions. Anabsurdme."

"And you think your injury caused this?"

He nods.

"I am who I am because of my immutability. I do what I do because I do not waver. But now... I fear I am not unshakable anymore."

My heart clenches at his admission. It's rare to see Ze being so open and vulnerable, admitting to his own weaknesses. But as this information sinks in, more things start making sense—his lack of awareness, his rudeness, his outbursts. Just like I had initially intuited, he doesn't do it with malice. He does it because he doesn't know any better.

I place my hand on top of his, patting him lightly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"You are forbidden from telling this to anyone, human," he suddenly declares in a booming voice, turning his hand palm up and threading his fingers through mine, the action belying the severity of his words. "You are the only one who knows about it."

"Thank you. I'm flattered you'd trust me." I smile.

He stares at me awkwardly, seemingly at a loss for words.

What is it about him that hurts my heart so? It's almost as if his pain and confusion echo in the air, sending an arrow straight to my chest and making mefeelhis struggle. From the beginning, I could sense there was more behind his seemingly haughty facade, but I would have never guessed it would be something so monumental—or that he'd be so lonely and scared in the face of the unknown.

"I could help you navigate it," I offer with a smile. "If you want to talk to someone about it, that is."

"You would do that for me?" His voice is tinged with surprise.

"Of course," I assure him. "We can start with what you experiencedafteryou awoke. What was different than before?"

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