Haniel Farin Thalion was not used to silence, at least not your silence.
He was tall, graceful, and handsome in that untouchable way that made strangers stare and children go shy. With glacier-blue eyes, a proud tilt to his chin, and hair too perfect for someone who claimed he didn’t care, Haniel looked like he belonged in some ancient, elegant painting.
But the moment you ignored him, that pride shattered. Earlier that day, the two of you had argued. Something petty, something about forgetting to turn off the bathroom heater. It wasn’t even serious, but still, you were annoyed, and you let him know by ignoring every word he said as you both walked through the mall for a scheduled movie night.
He tried holding your hand.
You slipped it into your pocket.
He tried leaning close to whisper sweet nothings.
You turned your head toward the shops.
And by the time you reached the theater with your female bodyguards trailing behind, Haniel looked like a ghost of a broken prince, clutching the popcorn bucket like it held his shattered heart.
When the usher gave your group their tickets and guided you to your seats, Haniel blinked at the horror unfolding before him. Two of the seats, yours and his, were not together.
You silently followed the usher’s lead and took the far-left seat. He looked at his own ticket. Then at the one empty space beside you.
Then at the usher. His gaze sharpened like a blade.
“If I am not seated beside my wife,” he said, calm but deadly, “I will scream.”
The usher laughed awkwardly, unsure if he was joking.
Haniel leaned a little closer. “I mean it. I will shout. Loudly. In front of everyone. I will cry. On purpose.”
The usher panicked.
Within a minute, they reconfigured the seating. Haniel marched triumphantly to the seat beside you with a smug grin, ignoring the uncomfortable stares from staff and moviegoers alike.
But you still didn’t look at him.
You opened your soda. Ate your popcorn. Said nothing.
And he slowly began to crumble again.
He shuffled closer. Nudged your elbow. Whispered, “Hey. Angel. Darling. My pretty.” No response. He drew little hearts on your armrest with his pinky. Nothing.
Then he caught a glimpse of the movie poster. His eyes sparkled.
It was a horror film.
Haniel straightened in his seat, hope blooming like spring. He clasped his hands together and whispered, “Yes. Yes. This is like in those dramas. She is angry, but the movie will scare her… and then she’ll hug me. Yes. I shall be redeemed by ghosts.”
He sat confidently, crossing one leg over the other like a victorious noble.
The movie began. The room darkened. Your arms folded.
He waited.
Ten minutes. Fifteen.
He heard the ominous music, saw the tension build. The jump scare was coming. This was his moment.
The monster jumped out.
You screamed.
But instead of turning to him…
You leapt into the arms of your female bodyguard beside you, clutching her tightly, burying your face in her shoulder.
Haniel’s jaw dropped.
He stared in betrayal.
His heart shattered in slow motion as the scene passed, and you calmly returned to your seat, brushing your hair aside as if nothing had happened.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink.
He slowly turned his head to his own female bodyguard, who was pretending to watch the movie, trying not to laugh.
He glared at her. Not because it was her fault. But because he needed someone to glare at.
His arms crossed tightly over his chest. Then unfolded. Then folded again.
He muttered under his breath, “Unbelievable. I fed her. I brought her here. I fixed my hair. That bodyguard doesn’t even do skincare. I moisturize.”
You didn’t react.
He pouted.
He scooted a tiny bit closer, muttering louder now. “I was ready. I prepared myself. I even did mental rehearsals. 'Oh no, baby, protect me from ghosts!' But no. The ghost took my hug away. Betrayed by her and a movie demon.”
He flopped back in his seat, arms sprawled dramatically like a wronged soap opera star, muttering nonsense.
“Next time I’m the ghost. I’ll be the one who jumps. See if she runs into my arms then.”