The conference room buzzed with tension.
Xavier sat at the head of the table like a king returning to a kingdom he no longer recognized. Across from him sat Kara, her expression blank but her eyes burning. Between them lay open folders, legal drafts, and years of silence.
They were working together again.
Xavier's law firm had partnered with the children's legal rights foundation Kara worked with, and fate, cruel and cunning, had forced them into the same space. Again. This time, with Zia watching from the sidelines, unknowingly dragging them toward the fire they'd once escaped.
Kara adjusted her blazer and refused to look directly at him. Not after the way he'd stared at Zia in the elevator this morning. Not after the way his hand had trembled.
"This clause doesn't work," Xavier said, voice clipped.
"It's standard policy," Kara replied coolly, not glancing up.
"It's flawed. Children with undocumented guardians could fall through the cracks."
She paused. He wasn't wrong. And he knew it.
"Fix it," he said. Then, softer, "You always hated flaws."
She looked up. Their eyes met like a match striking.
"And you always ignored them."
Xavier leaned back in his chair. "We're not talking about the contract anymore, are we?"
Kara forced herself to breathe evenly. "We never finished that one."
The room fell silent.
When the meeting ended, Kara rushed out, ignoring the murmurs of staff whispering about them. Xavier followed her into the hallway.
"You're avoiding me," he said.
She spun. "What do you want, Xavier?"
"Answers."
Kara crossed her arms. "To what questions?"
He stepped closer. "That little girl. Zia. She's..."
"She's mine," Kara said quickly.
"She has my eyes. My smile. My temper."
"You don't remember me," she snapped. "Why should you remember her?"
That stopped him.
His voice dropped. "Who is her father, Kara?"
She swallowed. "Does it matter?"
"It does if it's me."
"You said not to fall for you. You said not to break the rules. I didn't. You did."
"Did you love me?"
She flinched.
"Did I love you?" he asked again, quietly, desperately.
Kara turned away. "You did. You just didn't know how to show it. And by the time you tried... it was too late."
He reached for her hand. She pulled away.
"I'm engaged," she whispered. "You're too late now."
The words gutted him. But he nodded.
"Then let me be something. Anything. Even if it's just Zia's father."
Kara closed her eyes. The past burned in her lungs.
"She has nightmares," she said. "Of places she's never been. Of wolves and fire. Of you."
Xavier blinked. "What?"
"It's like she remembers things that never happened."
He stepped back slowly. "I do too. Sometimes. In dreams."
Their eyes locked again.
Maybe they were both haunted.
Maybe they never stopped being his dreams.
Maybe Zia wasn't the only one who remembered everything.