POV: Lyra
I didn't say goodbye.
No hugs. No promises. No polite waves.
Just a smile.
A soft, unreadable curve of my lips and a nod to Maya across the room. I left my wine unfinished, my napkin folded, and my emotions scattered somewhere between the linen-covered table and the half-burned candles.
I needed to leave before I broke.
The elevator ride down was silent.
Too silent.
I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders and stepped out into the cool night air. The building's entrance light spilled onto the sidewalk in a golden wash, and the city hummed quietly in the distance—cars, life, everything moving forward.
But not me.
Not yet.
I stopped just past the curb. Inhale. Exhale. My heels clicked lightly against the pavement as I stood there, searching for… something.
Space.
Breath.
Control.
I didn't hear him coming.
But I knew it was him.
The shift in the air behind me was familiar—warm, heavy, dangerous.
"Kairo," I said, without turning.
"You weren't going to say goodnight?"
His voice was low. Calm. But threaded with something that made my pulse jump.
I turned.
Slowly.
He was standing just a few steps behind me. No jacket. Shirt sleeves still rolled, hands in his pockets like if he didn't keep them there, they might find their way to me.
The hallway light caught the edge of his jaw, made the veins in his forearms stand out just enough to distract me. And his eyes—God, his eyes—they weren't pretending anymore.
Neither were mine.
"I didn't think it was necessary," I said. "You already said everything at dinner. With your silence."
He took a step closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to make the air between us feel smaller.
"I didn't want to say the wrong thing in front of Elijah."
"Right. Because the only thing worse than hurting me… is being caught doing it."
That landed.
His mouth tensed.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you did."
Silence.
It stretched between us like wire, tight and painful.
I looked down, arms wrapped around myself, trying not to let the burn behind my eyes spill out.
And then I felt him move.
Close.
Too close.
I looked up.
He was in front of me now, less than a breath away. No touching. Just watching me like I was a storm he wanted to step into.
"I couldn't breathe in that room, Lyra."
His words broke something in me.
"Then why didn't you leave?"
"I didn't want to leave without you this time."
I laughed, soft and hollow. "That's not fair."
"None of this is."
We stood there—bathed in the half-light of the corridor, wrapped in everything we wouldn't say.
"Say what you came to say, Kairo."
He didn't blink.
"I wanted you to know… that it's not over. Not for me. I tried to shut it down, but it's still there. Every second."
"And what exactly is it, Kairo?"
His jaw clenched.
"This thing between us."
"Don't name it now just because you feel it when I walk away."
He exhaled. Sharp. Tired. Real.
"I'm not naming it. I'm confessing it."
My breath hitched.
He stepped back first. Just a little.
But it was enough to make the ache worse.
I looked away, chest tight, skin on fire from proximity alone.
"You can't keep doing this," I whispered.
"I know."
I turned back toward the street, willing my legs to move, to leave.
But his voice stopped me again.
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"No," I said without looking back. "If you're going to mean it… don't call. Come."
Then I walked away.
And this time, he didn't stop me.