Chapter 16: Three Days Gone, One Lifetime Left Behind
I opened my eyes to the scent of fresh grass after rain and the warmth of a ten-year-old summer.
I was small again. My legs dangled from the wooden bench in our old backyard, feet barely brushing the dirt. Dad sat beside me, his huge hand resting on my shoulder like the whole world could fit inside it and still be safe.
"Divine," he said, voice low the way men speak when they're about to tell you something that will hurt and heal at the same time, "one day I won't be here to carry you when you fall. So you have to learn to stand up fast, love hard, and never apologise for taking up space in this world. Promise me you'll live loud enough for both of us."
I turned to answer, but my throat felt full of stones.
He smiled anyway— that crooked, tired smile that always made the sun look dim— and there were tears shining in his eyes like stars that had fallen and decided to stay.
I reached for him.
I wanted one more hug. One more "I love you, champ." One more anything.
Then the world cracked open.
And then the dream shattered.
I blinked.
My hands—older, longer, scarred from a hundred stupid teenage fights—rested on a blanket that definitely wasn't mine.
A soft, mocking voice floated in from the doorway.
"So you finally woke up, sleeping beauty."
Rebecca.
She was leaning against the doorframe, a wicker basket of folded clothes balanced on her hip, one eyebrow arched so high it threatened to disappear into her hairline.
"Rebecca?" My throat tasted like ash. "What… what happened to me?"
She rolled her eyes so hard I was scared they'd get stuck.
"Wait. Don't tell me you don't remember?"
"Remember what, exactly?"
"Ah, I knew it. You've already forgotten. You really are dumb. And stupid. And foolish. And crazy. And—"
"Okay, okay, OKAY! I heard you the first four times. I'm an idiot. Now tell me what happened!"
Rebecca inhaled like she was about to recite an epic poem.
"Actually… you, Joseph, and Gabriel finished your little 'deep talk' about gardens and vessels and whatever nonsense you boys pretend to understand. Then Joseph—being the responsible adult he definitely isn't—pulled out a flask of heavenly forbidden nectar. The strong stuff. The one even archangels only sip on New Year's.
You, Mr. I'm-Definitely-Not-A-Kid, insisted you were old enough for 'just one sip.'
One sip later you were dancing on the table, singing love songs to a lamp, declaring it was your soulmate, and trying to baptize Gabriel's cat you were trying to baptise the furniture and telling me that I have 'the most kissable eyebrows in all the realms'."
My face ignited. "I said WHAT?"
"Direct quote," she said sweetly. "Then you passed out cold..
Gabriel panicked, hit you with a spirit-sleep hex, and you've been dead to the world for three entire days."
Three days.
The words slammed into me harder than any punch.
I shot upright. "Three days?! My mom—school—oh my God—"
I scrambled for my school bag, legs tangled in blankets, nearly face-planting.
Rebecca's hand shot out like a viper and caught my wrist. One twist, one hip throw later, I was staring at the ceiling again.
"You fool," she sighed, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. "You slept here three whole days. Joseph already handled everything with your family. Relax."
I didn't listen. I never listen when I'm panicking.
I bolted out the door, barefoot, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape first.
The sky outside was bruised purple—evening.
Three days. Gone.
I ran.
The whole way home I prayed in fragments.
Please let Mom be okay. Please let me mom be okay. Please please please—
I threw open the front door so hard it bounced off the wall.
And froze.
The living room was full of laughter.
My mom was perched on the couch, one hand resting on her eight-month pregnant belly, eyes shining with tears of joy.
Melody—my little sister—was doubled over, slapping the couch cushions.
Sharon, arms crossed but smirking, leaned against the wall.
And there, right in the middle, telling a story with grand, ridiculous gestures—was Joseph.
"—so I told the centurion, 'Listen, mate, I don't care if Caesar himself signed the order, my friend here already paid with two denarii and a goat, and that goat had feelings—'"
The whole room erupted again.
Mom finally noticed me in the doorway. Her face lit up like sunrise.
"Divine! You're home!"
She struggled up—belly first—and pulled me into the warmest, softest hug. "How was school today, honey?"
I stood there stiff as a board, brain short-circuiting.
School? Today? I've been missing for seventy-two hours!
"Uh… fine?" I scratched the back of my head. "Long day."
Sharon's eyes narrowed. "Divine, your friend said you two had a big conversation project."
"Precious?" I asked automatically.
"Yes," she said sweetly. Too sweetly.
I flicked my gaze to Joseph.
My eyes screamed: What the hell are you doing in my house?!
He answered with the tiniest shake of his head and a smile that said, Play along, kid.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"Wait… you guys know him?"
Mom laughed like I'd told the funniest joke in the world. "Of course, sweetheart! Joseph has been your father's best friend for years. He's practically family. Remember when he helped fix the roof that time the storm took half of it?"
I stared blankly.
Sharon chimed in, "Or when he drove you and Dad to the hospital the night Melody was born?"
Melody giggled. "Uncle Joe-Joe brought me a teddy bear bigger than me!"
I felt the world tilt sideways.
Joseph wiped an imaginary tear. "You were all so tiny back then. Divine used to follow me around asking if angels really had six wings or if some of us were just showing off."
Everyone laughed again. Even Mom dabbed at her eyes.
I forced the stiffest smile of my life. "Right. Totally… remember that."
Joseph launched into another story—something about Dad accidentally challenging a minor god to a drinking contest and winning—and the room dissolved into comfortable, familiar chaos.
I backed away slowly until I could slip out.
I needed air. I needed five minutes where reality wasn't folding in on itself.
I made it to the corridor, pressed my back to the wall, and exhaled like I'd been holding my breath for three days.
A low chuckle behind me.
"Enjoying the show?"
Joseph. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking way too pleased with himself.
I whirled. "What did you do?"
He raised both hands. "Easy, tiger. Minor incarnation weave. I made everyone thinks you are around with them, so I came here to keep them company ."
"You messed with my family's memories!"
"Borrowed. Not messed with. There's a difference." He smirked. "Besides, you're welcome. Your mom would've lost her mind if she thought you vanished for three days while she's this pregnant."
I wanted to punch him. My fist was already curling.
He sidestepped before I even swung, patting my shoulder. "My bad, my bad. You're adorable when you're murderous."
"Stop. Teasing. Me."
Joseph's smile faded. The air between us grew heavy, like a storm rolling in.
"Listen carefully, Divine." His voice dropped. "There is an evil eye watching your mother. Watching the child in her womb. I don't know whose it is yet—fallen, demon, something older—but it's patient. It's waiting for the birth."
My blood turned to ice.
"You have to keep your family close. Especially now."
I calmly inhale
He studied my face for a long second, then ruffled my hair like I was still ten.
"Good boy."
He turned to leave. Paused.
"Oh, and Gabriel says hi. Also says you owe him a new cat. Apparently Mr. Fluffernutter is still traumatized."
Then he was gone, melting into the hallway shadows like he'd never been there.
I stood there, heart thumping, until a voice hissed behind me.
"What exactly were you two talking about?"
Sharon.
She stepped out from the corner where she'd obviously been eavesdropping, arms folded, eyes sharp as broken glass.
"And don't give me that 'none of your business' crap. I thought you said you didn't know him."
I tried to edge past her to my room. "It's… complicated."
She planted herself in my path. "Three days, Divine. You weren't home. But Mom and Melody kept talking like you were sitting right there eating dinner with us. I checked your room—empty. Your shoes weren't by the door. Your phone went straight to voicemail."
She leaned in until our noses almost touched.
"So I'll ask one more time. What. Are. You. Hiding?"
I met her stare and felt the old familiar headache bloom.
This is why I avoid Sharon. She sees everything.
"Sharon, please. Just… trust me. It's safer if you don't know."
Her eyes narrowed. "Safer for who?"
I didn't answer.
I slipped past her, shut my bedroom door, and locked it.
She pounded on it for a solid two minutes—threats, bribes, guilt trips, the whole arsenal.
I ignored every knock.
Eventually the hallway went quiet.
I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
My phone buzzed on the pillow.
One new voice message—from Precious.
I pressed play.
Precious's voice, nervous and excited:
"Hey man… tomorrow's the day. I'm finally telling her. Meet me at the old jacaranda tree behind the school at lunch, okay? It's gonna be a surprise. Don't be late this time."
Her.
Who.
Hw never told me about the girl.
And beside I need to warn precious about eve
The girl carrying the key to the Garden that could unmake the world.
I closed my eyes and saw Joseph's warning again.
An evil eye on my unborn sibling.
Tomorrow, I have to warn precious n
.
And I had no idea how to stop it without losing him forever.
I pulled the blanket over my head like I was ten again, like fabric could still keep the monsters out.
It couldn't.
The war had already started.
I just hadn't decided which side I was going to bleed for yet.
Morning came too soon.
I slipped out before anyone else woke— before Sharon could corner me again, before Mom could ask why my eyes were red.
The walk to school took forty-five minutes. My legs burned. My heart burned worse.
I was the first one in class. I sat in my usual seat by the window and arranged my books like armour.
The door creaked.
Rejoice walked in, school bag slung over one shoulder, morning light catching in her braids like tiny halos.
She stopped when she saw me.
"You're early today," she said, soft surprise in her voice.
"Yeah." I forced a grin. "Didn't want to miss the chance to look smart for once."
She laughed— a small, real laugh that made something in my chest unclench.
"Hmm. Serious student. Did you come by bus?"
I opened my mouth to tell the truth— I walked, I always walk, we can't afford anything else— but the lie slipped out smoother.
"Actually my mom dropped me off in her car."
The moment the words left my lips something heavy punched my chest— twice— like a warning from somewhere deeper than bones.
Rejoice's eyes lit up. "Wow, that's nice. No wonder you're early."
I smiled until my face hurt.
"So… how's your mom doing?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "Is she okay now?"
"Yes, she is. Thanks for asking." Her smile was sunshine and gratitude and everything I didn't deserve.
Precious burst in five minutes later, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
"Divine!" He grabbed my shoulders. "I called you for three days straight, man! What happened? Are you okay?"
Guilt tasted like rust.
"Sorry. Phone died. Just charged it this morning."
He studied me, then lowered his voice. "Why weren't you in school?"
Before I could answer, Rejoice piped up from her seat. "Wait— Divine was absent three days and nobody noticed?"
Precious glared at me like a disappointed mother hen. "Exactly! Final year, scholarships on the line, and you're vanishing? Are you serious right now?"
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
He sat beside me and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Did your sister give you my message?"
"Yeah."
"Good." He glanced around, then leaned closer. "Did she tell you about today?"
Today. The confession.
"Yeah," I whispered back. "Precious… how's Eve?"
He frowned. "She's fine. Why?"
I hesitated. The words of Joseph and Gabriel clawed up my throat.
"Is she… acting strange lately?"
He went very still. "No. Why would you ask that?"
I couldn't stop myself. "You have to be careful around her. She's… she's dangerous. She's a demon, Precious. A curse. She—"
His hand clamped on my arm— hard.
"Are you serious right now?" His voice was low, shaking. "That's my my sister you're talking about."
"I know, but—"
"Don't." He released me like I'd burned him. "Don't ever repeat those words again."
He walked away and sat three rows back, shoulders rigid.
The bell rang.
Class began.
And all I could hear, over and over in my head, was the echo of a garden gate creaking open somewhere far away, and the soft, patient hiss of something waiting on the other side.