I didn't go back inside immediately. My legs felt heavy, as though the air around me had thickened, trapping me against the stone railing long after Kairo's footsteps had faded.
He always left like that—slicing through the moment with a sharp edge of restraint, leaving me caught in the aftermath. My brother would probably say it was nothing, that I was imagining meaning where there wasn't any. But he hadn't seen Kairo's eyes. He hadn't felt the way they lingered on me, just long enough to set my chest on fire.
I let out a shaky breath and forced myself back into the ballroom. The air felt too warm, too stifling, and I pasted on the kind of smile that didn't reach my eyes. People laughed, music swelled, glasses clinked. The world moved on, oblivious to the way mine had tilted in the space of a heartbeat.
"Lyra."
My brother, Elijah, appeared at my side, his easy grin softening his sharp features. He looked so much like the guardian he'd always been, protective even when I hadn't asked for it. His hand brushed my shoulder lightly. "You okay? You disappeared for a bit."
I nodded quickly, too quickly. "Just needed some air."
He studied me, frowning slightly, but let it go. That was Elijah—always watching, always ready to step in, but never pushing too hard. I leaned into the comfort of his presence, the familiarity of his voice. Anything to silence the echo of Kairo's last words.
Later that night, when the party ended and I was finally home, I sat at my desk pretending to look over a stack of files from work. My eyes scanned the papers, but my mind wandered back to the balcony, to the sound of his voice—low, strained, carrying something he refused to name.
I hated it. Hated the way he lived under my skin without permission. Hated the way a single look from him could unravel me. And yet, no matter how many times I told myself to let it go, my thoughts found their way back to him like a needle seeking north.
I pressed my palms against my face, groaning softly. "Get a grip, Lyra."
But when I closed my eyes, I saw him again—Kairo with his sleeves rolled up, shadows clinging to his face, a man torn between wanting and restraint.
And deep down, I knew this wasn't something I could ignore. Not anymore.