I wake up before she does.
I always do.
It's instinct. Training. Reflex. Whatever you want to call it. Some part of my brain refuses to shut off when she's around, like it's standing guard even while the rest of me tries to rest.
She's still asleep on the couch.
The blanket shifts slightly with every breath she takes. Slow. Steady. Real.
I don't move.
I've been sitting on the floor long enough that my back hurts and my legs are half numb, but I don't care.
She didn't scream.
That shouldn't be a celebration. It is.
Her face in sleep isn't guarded the way it usually is. There is no tension in her jaw. There is no tightness between her brows. Just… her. The version of her the world didn't get to ruin while she was unconscious.
I hate that I get to see this. I love that I get to see this.
She wakes up slowly. The way animals do when they check the world before deciding it's safe to exist in it.
I closed my eyes immediately, pretending I was asleep. I felt her gaze for a while before finally opening my eyes.
Our eyes meet.
She tries to pretend she wasn't staring.
Cute.
I don't say that. I think it.
She asks if I slept there.
I tell the truth.
She asks if she slept okay.
I tell her she didn't scream.
She doesn't realize how much that matters to me.
When I stand up, my joints ache. Training doesn't prepare you for sleeping like a statue against a couch. I offer her my hand.
She takes it.
That nearly kills me.
Not in a poetic way. In a real way. Like something in my chest caves in and explodes at the same time.
Then I head to the door.
She asked if it was alright for us to come outside. I told her yes.
Then, I proceed to input the code for the us to get out. Soon, we were out.
I looked around, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. i just proceeded to the kitchen.
I go to make breakfast because if I stand in front of her too long, I will do something stupid.
Something honest.
Toast. Eggs. Butter. Movements I can do without thinking. Hands know what to do. Heart doesn't.
I tell her to go wash up.
And she tells me she wants to watch me.
Those words as simple as they sounded almost made me lose all my sense of reasoning.
I was still trying to get over last night watching her all night didn't help and bow this.
I warn her nit to make me get the wrong impression, and she tells me she meant what she said.
I didn't know what to say after that no... I didn't think I could say anything after that, at least not something that could lead to anything good.
Then, I proceeded to carry the meal to the dining where we sat.
My hands touched her while passing her plate to her, and just like that, everything else became noise neither of us pulled. I didn't think neither of us wanted to.
Just then, the phone rings.
It cuts through the air like a blade.
I freeze.
She stiffens immediately. Of course she does. Bad things rarely knock. They call.
I stare at the screen. Unknown number.
I feel it in my gut before I even answer.
This calm? This softness?
It was borrowed time.
I pick up.
"Talk," I say. There's a pause.
Then,
"She's supposed to be dead."
The words are quiet. Cold. Certain.
My heartbeat goes dangerous. I glance at her.
She's watching my face.
Reading me. Feeling it. I lower my voice.
"She's not."
Another pause.
Static breath.
"So this is why you've been so fixated on her, Cyrus."
My fingers tighten around the phone.
"What exactly do you want Kai," I say.
Hearing that name she goes very still.
She knows.
The voice doesn't argue.
It just smiles through the silence.
"What do you think she will do when she finds out. Thinking about it makes me so excited."
Then the call ends.
Silence drops like a bomb.
I don't look at her right away.
Because I don't know how to say how to tell her that her whole life has been a lie. The people she called her parents, the people who made her childhood her parent were not.
But when I do look? She's already on her feet.
Already braced. Already ready to fight.
I hate that.
And I love her for it anyway.
"Cyrus, I want to go back..."