BTT Chapter 9: Farewell From Gate 7

The hum of the motor was the only sound between us, a low vibration that matched the heaviness in my chest. Our drive to the airport felt unreal—slow, suffocating, yet far too fast. I kept my eyes locked on the highway as if I were the one steering, trying to keep my mind from unraveling.

Halfway through the ride, Iluzhah finally broke the silence.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sir…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m scared to ask what you’re thinking.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m thinking,” I said slowly, “that I don’t want this ride to end… because when it ends, so do we.”

She exhaled, shaky and soft, wiping at a tear she thought I didn’t see. “Don’t say that. My heart… it’s still yours. Even if life pulls me in another direction, even if I can’t give you the version of me you deserve… I want you to know I love you. I love you loudly, even when I can’t say it out loud.”

I turned toward her, my voice low and tight. “I’d fly back here every weekend if it meant hearing you say that again.”

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “And I would fold myself into your arms every time you walked through my door. But life… life doesn’t play fair.” Her voice cracked. “Still, you touched parts of me no one ever has. And no matter how far you go, you’ll hear echoes of me, Sir. I promise you that.”

I reached over and held her hand, squeezing it. “You’re my peace and my chaos. You’re the illusion that felt more real than my reality. And leaving you right now? It’s the hardest thing I’ve done in years.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks again. “You’re not leaving my heart. That’s the part you keep. That’s the part no one else gets.”

Before I knew it, we were pulling into the terminal. The ride felt both two minutes and two lifetimes long.

When we parked, I turned to her fully. Her tears were rolling steadily now. I cupped her face, pulled her close, and licked them away one by one. My hands shook like I had just received terrible news. Maybe I had.

Then I kissed her—long, slow, deep. A kiss full of everything we had lived and everything we were losing.

“I don’t want to go,” I whispered against her lips.

“I don’t want you to go either,” she replied, her voice breaking, “but if I keep you here… I’ll never let you leave.”

That confession alone could’ve broken me.

I stepped out after we exchanged a thousand silent emotions through our eyes. I grabbed my bag and closed the door gently, as though the sound itself might shatter both of us. I walked backwards toward the entrance, needing to hold on to every last second of her.

I didn’t need to say I loved her—I had shown her for three days straight.

Still… my heart screamed it, even if my mouth didn’t.

The grinding of the airport’s mechanical doors broke our gaze. I blinked hard, capturing her final image like a camera shutter before turning away and stepping into the building—stepping out of her world.

As I watched Iluzhah’s car disappear through the glass walls, a bittersweet ache spread through me. The airport buzzed with strangers and announcements, but all I heard were her laughs, her sighs, her whispered Sir…

Stepping deeper into the terminal, I wondered if this was the last time our paths would cross physically. Probably so. But the thought of our Words With Friends exchanges brought a small warmth to my chest. That was our doorway, our thread. In letters and moves, we still spoke a language only we could understand.

At Gate 7, everything felt muted. My mind looped our weekend like a film I never wanted to stop watching—the sex, the passion, the slow dancing of our souls. Each memory gifted me a smile and stabbed me with longing in the same breath.

“Flight 777 to IAH now boarding first class!” the intercom announced.

That single sentence felt like a bullet and CPR at the same time.

Boarding the plane felt like a walk of shame but with my head held high—because what we shared wasn’t dirty. It was divine. Rare. Cosmic.

When I finally sat down, my Apple Watch buzzed.

A text from Iluzhah.

“The hold you have on my soul isn’t an illusion; it’s real. I am Iluzhan, and you are my soul controller. Check your bag… if your nose smells me, that’s not an illusion either. I left something lacy and fishnet for you.”

My chest ignited. The woman was unreal—seductive, thoughtful, and spiritually tethered to me in a way that defied logic.

When I landed—seven minutes early—my phone lit up, but not with her. Silence. A painful quiet. My Uber ride home mirrored the drive to the airport: quiet, heavy, hollow.

After unpacking, I created a special place for her last gift. Lacy. Fishnet. Intimate. The last physical piece of a goddess I might never touch again.

Our final game remained untouched in our app, frozen in time like a monument. We still checked on each other a few times each week, her messages adding sunlight to even my darkest days.

In the beginning, our Genesis game brought us together.

And in the end, our Revelation game ended the same way.

But between those two bookends, a universe happened.

In the beginning, God said, Let there be Iluzhan.

And there was an illusion—

a real, living, breathing goddess.

My goddess.

And I love her with every strain of energy left in my being. I Love her Beyond The Tiles