The restaurant was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery against plates. Golden light washed over every table, soft and familiar, the same place Elijah had been bringing me every year since Mom passed.
He was already there when I arrived, leaning back in his chair with a glass of water in hand. His suit jacket was draped neatly over the backrest, his tie loosened just enough to make him look less like the powerful lawyer and more like my brother again.
"Right on time," he said with a grin, standing to hug me. "I was starting to think you'd bail on me."
I laughed, hugging him back, the scent of his cologne pulling me into years of memories. "You'd have shown up at my apartment if I did. I know you too well."
We settled in, menus already on the table, though Elijah barely glanced at his. He never changed his order here. I, on the other hand, traced the list with my finger, pretending to decide even though my mind was far away.
He studied me for a while, long enough for me to feel it. "You've been… quiet lately," he said carefully, as though testing the words.
I lifted my eyes, forcing a smile. "Work has been a lot. That's all."
"Work has always been a lot," he countered easily, leaning forward on his elbows. "But you're not fooling me. Something's on your mind."
I busied myself with the menu again, though the words blurred. "Not everything is a courtroom, Elijah. You don't need to cross-examine me at dinner."
He chuckled, but his gaze didn't soften. "Fair. But I know you. And I know when you're hiding something."
The waiter came, saving me for a moment. We placed our orders, Elijah chatting casually, but when the waiter left, his focus returned to me like a spotlight.
"Lyra." His voice dropped, quieter now, more brother than lawyer. "I just want to make sure you're okay."
My throat tightened. He meant well—he always did. And maybe that was why the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. "I am. Really. Just tired, that's all."
He studied me another moment before sighing, leaning back in his chair. "Alright. But if anyone's giving you trouble, you tell me, okay? Always."
I nodded, trying to keep my smile steady. "Always."
The rest of the dinner was easier, lighter. We talked about his case, about our childhood memories, even about the time Mom had burned the holiday roast and insisted it was 'extra flavor.' We laughed, and for a while, the knot in my chest loosened.
But beneath the laughter, one truth pressed harder and harder: Elijah trusted me. He trusted Kairo. And if he ever knew the storm building between us, it would break him.
I sipped my wine, nodding at something Elijah said, but my thoughts drifted elsewhere—to a balcony, to a man who had looked at me like he wanted everything he shouldn't.
And I wondered how much longer I could keep pretending.