The soft glow of the evening sun shone against Kane's office window as he stared at the wall clock lost in thoughts.....
He had remembered his hesitation when he saw the pictures earlier, the flicker of something that wasn't trust and it broke him.
Glancing back and forth from the desk still filled with the photographs and the wall clock that was showing past 5..... Isadora must be off work now, he thought as he grabbed his phone to confirm
'Hey, are you free' he asked
> 'Just got off work' she replied
'Well could you stop by my place tonight for dinner' he continued a little bit rushed...
> 'Sure, what time's
'By 7 I guess I can pick you up if you want'
> 'No need, I will be there at 7'
'Sure, see you at 7 ' he said as he dropped the phone and smiled like a teenager talking to her first crush...
__
Kane's apartment was dimly lit from the outside as Isadora knocked on the door, the faint smell of sandalwood hits her nostrils as she knocks on the door
"Coming" Kane's voice boomed from the other side, as the door slowly opens revealing a sweat covered Kane with a apron that says "cooking is therapy" around him, sleeves roller up and a spatula in hand....
"Isa, come in" he says with a light pink visible on his face and neck.
"Did you cook" Isadora asked holding in a chuckle
"I'm trying to" Kane replied sheepishly as Isadora steps in and they go towards the kitchen island. Pasta, wine, and silence that wasn't awkward — just full. Like both of them were waiting for the other to speak first.
She broke it.
"So… you saw them."
He nodded. "Yeah."
She looked down. "And?"
"I didn't believe them."
She looked up, surprised.
"I mean," he said, "for a second, I felt it. That old voice in my head. The one that says everyone leaves. Everyone lies. But then I remembered who you are."
She swallowed. "And who's that?"
He met her eyes. "The only person who's never tried to use me."
She didn't know what to say to that.
So she reached for her wine instead.
He watched her for a moment, then said, "Why didn't you tell me about the meeting with my mother?"
She set the glass down. "Because I didn't want to make it worse."
"You think I can't handle her?"
"I think you've been handling her your whole life," she said. "And I didn't want to be another reason you had to."
He was quiet.
Then he said, "My heart will always worry if you're not next to me."
She froze.
The words landed soft, but deep.
She looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she had to be strong.
She could just be.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said.
"I know," he replied. "But I still want to make sure you have somewhere to go when it gets too loud."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"I want to buy you an apartment," he said. "Close to your office. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that's yours."
She blinked. "Kane—"
"I'm not trying to control you," he said quickly. "I just… I know what that house is like. I know what they're like. And I don't want you to feel trapped."
"I don't," she said. "Not really."
"But you could," he said. "And if that day comes, I want you to have a key in your hand. Not a cage."
She looked down at her hands.
"I don't want to run," she said.
"I'm not asking you to," he said. "I'm asking you to have a place where you can breathe."
She was quiet for a long time.
Then he added, a little softer, "Or… you could just come here."
She looked up.
He was trying to sound casual, but his ears were turning red.
She smiled. "Are you blushing?"
"No."
"You are."
"I'm not."
She leaned in. "You are."
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "This is why I don't talk."
She laughed, and the sound filled the room like sunlight.
"I'll think about it," she said.
"I'll take it," he replied.
They finished dinner slowly, talking about nothing and everything. Work. Childhood. The first time they met. The first time they really saw each other.
Afterward, they moved to the couch. She curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.
For a while, they just sat there.
No words.
No noise.
Just the steady beat of his heart under her cheek and the warmth of his hand on her side.
Then she said, "Do you think it'll stop?"
"What?"
"The attacks. The games. The lies."
He was quiet.
Then said, "No."
She nodded. "Didn't think so."
"But I'll protect you," he said. "Every time."
She looked up at him. "And who protects you?"
He smiled, tired. "You do."
She leaned up, kissed his cheek. "Then I guess we're even."
He looked at her, eyes soft. "Not even close."
She smiled. "You're really bad at flirting."
"I'm not flirting."
"You just offered to buy me an apartment and then told me I could move in with you."
"That's not flirting," he said. "That's begging."
She laughed again, and he kissed her before she could say anything else.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't desperate.
It was slow. Certain. Like a promise.
When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"Me too," he said. "But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.