Page 93 of Siren

“And this one,” I said, voice trembling just a little, “this one’s for the man who flew across the world when I needed him. Who reminded me what it feels like to be held, seen, loved. Taraj... this is yours.”

The first chords played—slow, sultry, soaked in longing.

I closed my eyes.

And sang:

I tried to love you with half of me,

But you pulled the rest from where I’d buried it deep.

You kissed the scars I didn’t name,

Made me feel fire and never shame.

Now I crave you like the sun craves the sea,

Like silence longs for a melody.

I don’t want the pieces—I want the truth.

I want the breath. The pulse.

I want all of you.

The crowd was still.Spellbound. I opened my eyes.

And there he was. Standing just off stage. Hand over his heart. Jaw clenched. Eyes wet.

I kept singing.

Let the world spin wild outside our bed,

We’ll be wrapped in words we never said.

Give me mornings with your mouth on mine,

And nights that taste like red wine and time.

I don’t want the moment—I want the proof.

I want the breath. The ache.

I want all of you.

The last notecurled into the air like smoke—thick, golden, lingering. It held the ache of everything I couldn’t say out loud. Everything I’d carried. Everything he came to carry with me.

And when it faded… the silence broke.

The crowd erupted. Thousands on their feet, screaming, clapping, crying.

But I didn’t bow.

I stood still, chest rising with breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My gaze locked on him—right there in the wings, arms folded, heart wide open, eyes burning like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

I mouthed,Come here.

He stepped forward. Not rushed. Not showy. Just slow, grounded steps like the whole earth was moving with him. Like fate had taken his hand and brought him into the light where he belonged.

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