Chapter 456: This Micah Was Different (part two)
Darcy closed the door behind him with a soft click and leaned against it, exhaling through his nose. The air in the room was still, hot, and humid. He crossed to the balcony door and pushed it open, letting the cool breeze drift in. Then he sat behind the desk and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. He turned the pen in his fingers for a long moment before finally pressing it to the page.
The first words came haltingly, unevenly scrawled: Things that are different in this life.
He stared at them for a second before he began writing down what he remembered from this life, the key moments that had shifted.
Most of his life had followed the same path as before. The same classes, the same struggles, the same desperate need for money. Until that night, Micah appeared.
Darcy’s pen paused. His throat tightened.
This was where things began to change.
He remembered that day clearly, or at least the one from his past life. He had gone to QC University, where Elina Palmer, as a mathematics professor, had approached him about joining a research project. She had been the one who gave him that temporary lifeline, the one who saved him from taking extra shifts at the bar. Because of that, he had stayed home that night. There had been nothing like Nora going out at night. No trouble.
He paused. Right, it had been him who had gone out and brought medicine for Flora.
But in this life, Elina hadn’t shown up.
Darcy’s brows furrowed. The pen hovered above the page, trembling slightly between his fingers.
So he had gone to the bar that night instead, earning the extra money they needed. And...then... he clenched his jaw, which had led to Nora going out alone and ended up being harassed by those thugs.
Did Micah know? Was this something Micah had arranged? Was this a calculated move?
His hand gripped the edge of the desk. No. That didn’t make sense. Micah had gotten hurt that night, stabbed even. How foolish could he be to pull something like that?
Darcy rubbed a hand across his forehead, his eyes shadowed.
He remembered Micah hadn’t even wanted to go to the hospital, insisting he was fine, getting patched up in a shabby clinic instead. That hadn’t been an act. It had been real. If he wanted to use it against him, he would have made a fuss, dragging everyone to the hospital.
He forced himself to pick up the pen again. He listed everything that was different, every small detail, every shift of timing. When he finally stopped, the pages were completely full.
He sat back and looked at the list. Most of the things Micah had done were to help himself or his family.
Darcy stared at it for a long time. His face softened, though his eyes stayed cold.
There was no sign of those foolish pretences, no reckless, selfish choices that Micah had made in his past life, when he had made Darcy’s life hell.
This Micah was different.
He tapped the pen against the notebook, the faint sound filling the quiet room.
Another variable was Zhou Ruyan. He had never met the old lady before in his previous life. Yet, this time she had treated him really well, like a family.
He wanted to go home, to see his mother, Flora, and his sister, Nora, again. The memory of losing them still burned under his skin like an old wound. He had missed them so deeply it hurt to breathe. But he also knew leaving too soon wasn’t wise. He needed to understand what was happening in this timeline. The logic of it. The pattern.
So he stayed. One more night.
He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. The pressure helped for a second, but the flood of memories kept coming. Fragments of both lived tangled together, flickering in and out until the pain behind his eyes sharpened into a pounding headache.
"Damn it," he muttered. He folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket.
His head felt like it would burst at any minute.
Then came a knock on the door. He grimaced. Who was it? Such a pain.
Then he heard Micah’s voice. "Darcy? Are you in there?"
His expression twisted. He didn’t want to see him right now. Not when his mind was in chaos. When he couldn’t control his emotions from spilling out.
Yet he knew Micah wouldn’t leave. He exhaled slowly and opened the door. "What?"
"Uh...Come down for dinner," Micah said, voice hesitant.
Darcy rubbed his temple, gaze hooded. "I’ve got a headache. I’ll pass." Without waiting for Micah, he shut the door firmly.
Darcy heard the sound of footsteps retreating, and thought it was the end of it, but no... that young man appeared again, pacing outside of his room, getting on his nerves.
He yanked the door open. "Hey," Darcy said, voice hoarse. "Stop pacing!"
Micah jerked around. "Are you better?" he asked, stepping closer.
Darcy stared at him, eyelids twitching.
But then, Micah moved quickly, setting the tray aside on the desk. He reached out without thinking, taking Darcy’s wrist gently. "Come on, lie down," he urged, tugging him toward the bed.
Darcy let him do what he wanted when he saw the tray.
Micah’s voice softened, coaxing. "Sorry, I thought maybe you were asleep. This is just a light porridge. Grandpa Sunny made it for you. Oh... and here, I brought some painkillers." He picked up the small blister pack and held it out, then hesitated. "No, wait, you probably have nausea too, right? Maybe you should take this pill first, then..."
Darcy blinked slowly at the young man; his eyes caught something. An obvious hickey on Micah’s neck.
His mood dropped the moment he noticed it. He remembered Clyde Du Pont, the man who had completely inserted himself into Micah’s life. They had clashed again, though this time for an absurd reason.
Fighting over Micah’s affection! What the hell?
So what the fuck was Micah doing chummy up to him? Wasn’t he already with Clyde?
The throbbing in his head worsened with every rushed word. The noise of Micah bustling around him, talking nonstop, only made the pounding behind his eyes intensify.
So he lashed out.
"Shut up," he growled, voice low.
Micah froze, hand still half-extended. His hazel eyes widened, disbelief flashing in them before something softer, hurt, raw, and flickering, settled there instead.
He closed his mouth firmly, then he straightened. Micah turned away, shoulders tight. First, he crossed the room to draw the curtains shut, blocking the pale spill of moonlight and streetlamps outside. Then, he set a glass of water on the nightstand, his movements stiff.
Finally, he stepped back, gaze flickering once toward Darcy before turning and walking silently to the door. His hands lingered on the knob for a heartbeat, but he didn’t look back. He left.
The hurt look Micah gave him twisted Darcy’s gut. The Darcy of this life liked Micah. His heart ached. But he didn’t move, he couldn’t bring himself to apologise.
Then a few minutes later, a doctor appeared, professional and polite. He guessed Micah had called for him.
Darcy didn’t say a word and let the doctor examine him.
Darcy could see that Micah really cared about the Darcy of this life. Not him, of course.