The house felt different that evening.
Not louder. Not quieter.
Just… heavier.
Zyra noticed it the moment she stepped inside. The air seemed to cling to her skin, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. She placed her bag on the table and glanced around, half-expecting something to move.
Nothing did.
Ethan sat by the window, his phone resting facedown on his knee. He wasn't scrolling. He wasn't typing. He was simply staring outside, eyes narrowed in thought.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Zyra asked gently.
Ethan looked up, surprised. "No. Just thinking."
Zyra nodded. She understood that tone too well. Thinking, for Ethan, usually meant trouble knocking quietly at the door.
She moved toward the kitchen, but paused. "Did something happen today?"
Ethan hesitated.
That alone was an answer.
"Not exactly," he said at last. "But I learned something I wasn't supposed to."
Zyra turned to face him fully now. "About us?"
His jaw tightened. "About why certain people are suddenly interested in us."
Zyra's heart skipped. She sat across from him, folding her hands together to keep them from shaking. "You're scaring me."
"I don't want to," Ethan replied. "That's why I didn't say anything earlier."
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, a car passed slowly, its headlights sweeping briefly across the room like watchful eyes.
"Ethan," Zyra said quietly, "we promised not to hide things from each other anymore."
He met her gaze. For a moment, she saw the same conflict that had followed him for weeks—duty pulling one way, trust pulling another.
"You're right," he said finally.
He leaned forward. "Someone has been digging into your past. Not randomly. On purpose."
Zyra felt her breath catch. "Why?"
"That's the part I don't fully understand yet," Ethan admitted. "But it's connected to that contract. And to the wedding."
Zyra swallowed. The altar they were meant to stand before suddenly felt less like a promise… and more like a spotlight.
"Do you think we're in danger?" she asked.
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, "I think we're being watched."
Her fingers curled into her sleeves. Fear rose, but beneath it was something stronger—resolve.
"Then we face it together," Zyra said.
Ethan studied her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Together," he echoed.
For the first time that night, the heaviness in the room shifted—no
t gone, but shared.
And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.