Page 22 of When We Collide

I may as well have been dead, because surrendering a life I cherished to live one built on lies was a fate far worse than death itself. I’m a goddamn fighter pilot, my soul is intertwined with the skies. I dedicated every fibre of my being for over a decade to becoming the best air combat pilot the RAF had ever seen. I poured literal blood, sweat, and tears into my career only to see it ripped away from me. It wasn't just a job—it was my identity, the very essence of who I am. Without my career and the woman I love, I didn’t fit in the new fabricated life they constructed for me.

I yearned for my life back. And were it not for Jeyla and my family, I would have faced my end with a defiant grin etched across my face, fighting till my last breath before I let anyone strip me of my life.

While I can't say I was unhappy with where I ended up, there are certainly less desirable places to be. Italy proved to be a dreamlike experience. The town selected for me—Sorrento—was nothing short of a picturesque wonderland, adorned with its vibrant buildings painted in every shade of the rainbow and offering breathtaking views of a shimmering sea that stretched infinitely under the golden sun.

Each day, as I wandered through this charming locale, I couldn't help but imagine Jeyla walking beside me, her stunning green eyes wide with awe as they absorbed the enchanting sights. She would have been captivated by the winding cobblestone streets, each brimming with quaint charm and bustling with the lively energy of coastal life. Despite Sorrento's undeniable allure and tranquil beauty, I’ve always been a city dweller at heart. The fast-paced energy and constant movement of urban life is what I thrive on. Unless I'm seventy years old and contemplating retirement, a serene and peaceful small town isn't quite my cup of tea. If Viktor Lukin didn’t kill me, the fucking boredom would have.

Once I’m showered, I step back into the bedroom and the silence that greets me is deafening; punctuated only by the faint sound of my own breathing. A pang of disappointment hits me as I realize that she must not be here. Slowly exhaling, I let my gaze sweep over the room before closing the door behind me. Maybe she's gone to check on DJ or retreated downstairs. With a resigned sigh, I make my way towards the wardrobe, my fingers grazing against familiar fabrics and textures. Each piece hangs untouched and neatly folded, just as Jeyla said it was. It's both comforting and disorienting to see all of my belongings exactly as I left them, yet everything else feels… different. I feel like I’m stepping into a stranger's version of my own life, and I hate it.

Obviously, I didn’t return with the naive hope that Jeyla would accept me with open arms, ready to pick up where we left off. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy, not after what she went through and definitely not for us. If I know Jeyla—and I do—she’s going to wilfully cling to the resentment she’s currently feeling toward me. And who can blame her, after everything I put her through, her trust has been shattered and it’s going to take time to fix that… time I might not have. As much as I longed to make things right between us, my main focus right now is ensuring her and DJ’s safety, because the thought of anything happening to them terrifies me to my very core and this world isn’t ready for the wrath I will unleash if either of them get hurt.

Pulling on a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms I walk out of the bedroom and quietly move over to the nursery to see if Jeyla is in there with the baby. Pushing the door open slowly I find the nursery empty except for DJ sleeping soundly in his crib.

DJ’s nursery is warm and cheerful. The walls painted a soft, buttery yellow that radiates a sense of joy and tranquillity. As I step into the room, the gentle glow of the walls immediately envelopes me in a warm embrace, creating an inviting and cozy atmosphere. The room is filled with the delicate aroma of baby powder and the faint sound of lullabies playing in the background, creating a peaceful and loving atmosphere.

In one corner, a pristine white crib stands as the centrepiece, adorned with a mobile of pastel-coloured stars and moons that dangle overhead. The crib is dressed in a quilt of tiny yellow and white ducks and fluffy clouds—adding a touch of softness to the room.

Near the crib, a plush white rocking chair beckons with its comfortable cushions, perfect for midnight feedings and quiet moments of bonding. A soft, knitted throw blanket in a pale-yellow hue is draped over the back. I picture Jeyla sitting in that chair and feeding our son during the night and warmth fills my chest at the thought. And then it hits me all over again that I missed out on so much. The pregnancy, the birth, decorating the nursery and building our baby’s crib and furniture. The thought of Jeyla going through the experience all by herself, or with my brother, when it should have been me makes me sick to my stomach.

Shaking my head of those unpleasant images, I move over to the crib to watch my son sleep and I can’t help but smile. He really is perfect. I still can’t believe we have a baby together. After her accident and losing our first baby, Jeyla and I were sure we wouldn’t have children in our future, yet here we are with a beautiful son.

Despite Jeyla's condition and not being able to conceive, I couldn't contain my satisfaction that my boys had defied all odds and successfully impregnated her. If anything, it’s a testament to the strength of our love and the amount of sex we had on our honeymoon alone; it’s really no surprise that one of them had taken root. And now, DJ is the living embodiment of our fierce and everlasting love for each other.

Bending down, I gently press my lips to his forehead and inhale deeply, relishing in that sweet baby scent. My heart swells with love as I whisper, “I wish I could promise to always be around and watch you grow up to be the amazing man your mother will raise you to be.”

Closing my eyes, I nuzzle my nose against his soft head and release a contented sigh. “No matter what happens to me, I want you to know that you had a dad who loved you more than anything. And if there's one thing I can promise, it's that I will fight like hell to come back home to you and your mum. But if Idon’t survive this mess, just know that I will never stop watching over you both.”

A heavy lump forms in my throat, thickening with each passing moment as emotions threaten to overwhelm me. The sting of tears begins to spread behind my closed eyelids, aching to break free and unleash the flood of feelings that are unravelling inside of me one at a time. It takes every ounce of strength I possess to hold back the onslaught.

Walking away from Jeyla once was excruciatingly difficult, but having to do it a second time and knowing the odds of me making it back are slim is just crushing. Like a stone sinking into quicksand, the longer I look at my son the heavier and burdened my heart feels.

After whispering a quiet ‘I love you’ to my son, I leave the nursery and make my way downstairs to find Jeyla. Halfway down the stairs my ears pick up low murmurs coming from the kitchen.

“If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t hesitate, I would have fought to the death for you,” I hear Oz say and I feel a painful knot form in my stomach. “I wish there was a way I could turn these feelings off, now more than fucking ever, but I can’t Jeyla, nor am I deluded enough to believe that I’ll ever be a choice when I’m up against Dean.”

My jaw clenches, the muscles in my face tightening as I ball my hands into fists at my side. A searing heat ignites deep within my gut upon hearing his words, spreading like wildfire through my body. I've always been aware of my brother’s feelings towards Jeyla; he's been in love with her for as long as I have. And yes, it has bothered me. After all, they have always been incredibly close, and it was hard to not feel a tinge of envy over theirfriendship and unshakable bond over the years. But despite his feelings for her, I always knew that deep down, Oz would never act on them. Hell, he could have probably done what I couldn’t and given her the happy and uncomplicated life she deserves.

It seems it took for me to ‘die’ for my big brother to find his balls and finally open up to her about his feelings. Had I not already known about their secret ‘relationship’ I would have marched in there and beaten him within an inch of his life.

After I was handed the photos of the two of them by the security officers sent to keep an eye on Jeyla after we received the threats, I remember staring at it for over an hour. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. My brother and my wife? Their betrayal still sits like a knife embedded into my back. And I realise that the blame wasn’t on them, it was all on me, and I accept that even if it is a fucking hard pill to swallow.

I can still feel the beast inside me shaking with anger, and lucky for Oz I already beat my frustration and anger into a boxing bag for two days straight or I would have lunged at him and rearranged his entire face.

I’m still waiting for either of them to come clean about their so-called relationship, but she’s said nothing and neither has he. The mere idea of Jeyla possibly returning his affection is enough to drive me into a fit of madness. Yet, I do find some small comfort in knowing that he feels guilty for his actions and understands that he will never measure up to what Jeyla and I have. Hell, he can try his best and I can’t blame him for wanting to, but my presence in her life has left shoes too big and expansive for him to ever fill.

As much as I’m hurt and feel betrayed by him, watching them together now and the way he’s looking at her, if I had to choosebetween some stranger for Jeyla to be with or Oz… I would choose Oz every time. Because if anyone loves her almost as much as I do, it’s him. And Jeyla deserves to be loved blindly, madly and unconditionally.

I just hope to shit I’m not too late.

“I thinkit’s best if I go and stay at my parents’ tonight.” I hear my brother tell Jeyla and she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. As much as I would love to have some time alone with Jeyla without having to worry about my brother's presence in the house, my parents don’t know about my return and honestly, I don’t think I'm ready to face them yet.

“Oskie, you don’t have to do that. This is your home.”

“I feel like I'm in the way here, Jey.”

“You’re not,” I answer as I stroll into the kitchen. They both look over at me. My eyes lock with my brother’s, but I can feel Jeyla’s gaze burning through me. “Jeyla’s right, this is just as much yourhome now, bro. Don’t feel like you need to leave on my account.” My eyes shift to look at Jeyla and she just stares back at me chewing on her lower lip.

Are you afraid of being left alone with me, baby girl? Are you worried we’ll fall into old habits, and we won’t be able to control ourselves? Because all I want right now is to dive right in and bite, suck, and nibble on that lower lip of yours.

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