After the last sip of coffee, Aeron stood up and carried both cups to the kitchen. He rinsed them carefully, letting warm water run over the rims, washing away the faint bitterness left behind. He placed them upside down on the rack, aligned neatly, just the way he liked. Order was a small thing, but it gave the day a shape.
Behind him, Lina moved quietly. She folded Aeron's blanket, smoothing the worn fabric with her palms, then tucked it neatly at the foot of the bed. She straightened the pillow, stepped back, and nodded to herself as if approving her own work. The room felt lighter when things were in their places.
She headed to the bathroom, humming softly, the sound barely louder than the water running. When she came out, her hair still damp, she tied it back and went straight to the kitchen. She moved with familiar confidence—pulling out ingredients, lighting the stove, arranging plates. This, too, was routine. And routines were comforting.
The sizzle of oil filled the apartment.
Aeron leaned against the doorway, watching her for a moment.
There was something grounding about seeing Lina like this—focused, calm, alive in the simplest acts. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
The sound felt out of place.
He glanced at the screen. An unknown number. For a moment, he considered ignoring it. Then he stepped away from the kitchen and answered.
"Yeah?"
A pause. Static. Then a voice—measured, professional.
"Aeron. We've got a job. High priority."
Aeron closed his eyes briefly and listened.
The man explained quickly. A mining site far beyond the usual routes. A newly discovered crystal vein—dense, unstable, rich with raw energy. The kind that powered advanced engines and experimental tech. The kind people fought wars over.
"And the risk?" Aeron asked calmly.
Another pause.
"High," the voice admitted. "Radiation spikes. Unstable terrain. But the payout—"
"I know," Aeron said, cutting him off gently. He looked toward the kitchen, where Lina was cracking eggs, unaware. "I know what it's worth."
"This could set you up for years," the man pressed. "One run. In and out."
Aeron exhaled slowly.
He thought of the ruins.
Of ships torn apart by invisible forces.
Of pilots who took one job too many.
"No," he said.
Silence stretched across the line.
"…You sure?"
"Yes."
"Think about it."
"I have," Aeron replied. His voice was steady, but firm. "Find someone else."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
For a moment, he stood still. The apartment felt warm. Alive. The sound of cooking returned to him, grounding him again.
He sat down at the dining table.
"Lina," he called out gently. "Breakfast?"
"Almost ready," she replied without turning around.
He watched her move—how she plated the food carefully, how she wiped the edges of the plates before lifting them. Small habits, learned over years of making do with little.
She brought two plates to the table and set them down.
"Eat before it gets cold," she said, sitting across from him.
Aeron smiled faintly. "Smells good."
They ate slowly. The food was simple, but filling. Outside, the city was fully awake now. Ships passed overhead. Somewhere nearby, a vendor shouted. Life moved forward, piece by piece.
Lina broke the silence.
"You're quiet."
"Just thinking," Aeron said.
"About work?"
He nodded.
She looked at him for a second, then went back to eating. "You always think too much."
"Someone has to."
She smiled at that.
When they finished, Lina gathered the plates and washed them while Aeron put on his jacket. He checked his tools, his gloves, the small device he always carried in his pocket. Everything was where it should be.
At the door, he paused.
"I'll be back by evening," he said.
"I'll be at the market," Lina replied. "We're out of vegetables."
"Don't buy the expensive ones."
She laughed softly. "You say that every time."
"And you ignore me every time."
She shrugged. "Good food is important."
Aeron looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Be careful."
"You too."
They stepped out together, locking the door behind them.
At the corner, they split—Aeron toward the docks and mining yards, Lina toward the crowded streets lined with stalls and traders.
As Aeron walked, the weight of the declined mission lingered in his chest—but it didn't feel like regret. It felt like choice. Like control.
He adjusted his jacket and kept moving.
Lina blended into the morning crowd, a small figure among many, holding a shopping bag and a quiet smile.
The day had begun.