Page 88 of The Wishing Game

"Okay." I nod, a little puzzled about his attitude. But as I watch him from the corner of my eye, I realize he's quite confused about himself, too.

Maybe it's the foreign world, and he's just trying to fit in. But at the same time, why would someone with Ze's egowantto fit in?

With not too much time to spare, I choose a similar sweater to the one Cer had gotten since that's likely to fit him properly. I get it in black and the largest size available. Next, it's pants. I manage to find a pair of loose black pants that might fit him. Since he's such a fan of black, this should work just fine.

With the clock ticking, I push him into the changing room to try on his clothes while I also quickly scramble to find clothes for myself.

Thea and Cer are having fun in the accessories section, and I fly past them as I quickly browse the available options. Since this is going to be a long journey, I need something warm and comfortable.

I grab a pair of leggings from the sports section, adding a pair of warm tights too—just in case. I also get a sports bra that won't be too much of a bother, then quickly survey the underwear aisle and pick up a few to have throughout the trip. For the top, I decide to go with a couple of warm layers topped by a big purple hoodie. I purposefully choose a large size so that it looks oversized on me, the hem reaching my knees.

Finally done, I get back to the changing rooms to check on Ze. This time, luckily, his clothes fit him. I give him a thumbs-up—which I realize he doesn't know the meaning of—after which we pay and we're finally ready to go to the airport.

As we get there, we successfully snag four tickets to Jinan, but the only available ones were in the economy class. With Thea's charm, we manage to get through airport security by only showing a blank agenda that they think is a passport. The staff doesn't even scan it, merely glancing at it and letting us move forward.

It's only when we're ushered into the airplane that the problems start to arise.

Thea is marveling at everything around while Cer and Ze look downright uncomfortable.

"Damn it," I mutter softly as I realize with their size, they won't have an easy time fitting in their seats. And this is such a long journey, too...

We're pointed to our seats by one of the air stewardesses, and though I'd planned to sit with Thea, I decide to ask her to switch places with one of the guys. It would be too torturous to have them both crammed in one place when they will barely be able to fit in a seat.

"But, Luce." She sighs, not too happy with the idea.

"You can sit with Ze if you don't want to argue with your brother," I offer, knowing how easy it is for them to squabble.

"No way! I'd rather fight with Cer a hundred times over than have"—she leans in to whisper—"that surly man next to me. No, thank you. You can endure his company for the flight."

"Fine." I chuckle. "I'll just ignore him and it will be fine."

Reaching our seats, I inform the guys of the changes. Cer rolls his eyes while Ze merely stares at me unblinkingly—as is his habit.

While Thea and Cer make themselves comfortable in their seats behind us, I turn to Ze.

"You can have the window seat," I tell him. He should have a bit more freedom there than in the middle seat. And we don't know who's going to sit next to us either... Yes, the window seat is best for him.

He regards me for a moment before he gives me a brisk nod, folding his big frame in the seat. As I slide next to him, I lift up the armrest so that he can have a little more room.

"I'm sorry about this. You'll have to bear with it for a few hours." I give him a tight smile.

"Are all humans as small as you?"

"What?" I frown. "Not really. I'm on the smaller side for a woman. But the men are much larger. A lot have problems with these seats too."

He nods to himself.

"Was your dead husband small, too?"

My lashes flutter in surprise. He's staring forward, his back straight, his hands resting on his thighs.

"No, he was not a small man," I mention, a smile pulling at my lips as I remember how easily Nikki could carry me in his arms—even with his busted knee. Although he hated the outside world, he'd always had a fondness for physical exercise, and he installed a gym in every home we ever owned. We'd sometimes work out together, even though I was not the best at it. But I would just love to watch him, sometimes lying on a yoga mat with a book, spying on him as he was doing his sets.

When he was shot in the knee, he was devastated to find that he couldn't move as well as he used to, but he didn't let that keep him back. He was always a fighter. And even in his last days, all he was thinking was how to fight more, harder—how to go to war with himself and his own psyche. My eyes are moist as I bring the back of my hand to wipe the tears clinging to my lashes.

In the beginning, when the grief had been too strong—too blinding—I hadn't been able to see anything other than the pain in my soul. Now, though, I can look back and be proud of my husband and everything he did.

Four more trials, and I'll see him again.

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