His expression shifts. Barely. But it shifts.
“No,” he says.
I believe him.
I don’t knowwhy, but I do.
Another pause. Another breath caught in the quiet space between words.
Then he says, “I will call on you again.”
And my brain doesn’t even get a vote.
“Yes,” I hear myself say.
Too fast.
Too easy.
Toomuch.
I blink. Straighten. “I mean—sure. Yeah. If you’re?—”
“I am.”
His answer comes like gravity. Irrefutable.
The silence between us turns warmer now. Not heavy. Not awkward.
Just…aware.
I stand. The city seems to shimmer a little differently as I do — like something in its architecture just recalibrated.
We don’t say goodbye.
He just watches as I walk the last half-block alone. Close enough to protect, far enough not to intrude.
When I reach the gate of my complex, I glance back.
He’s already gone.
But the heat in my skin says he was real.
Inside, I kick off my shoes, lean against the polished wall of my entryway, and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I tell myself I’m in control.
That this is just a detour. A moment of weakness wrapped in wine and shadowed laughter.
That I’ll wake up tomorrow and get back to reality.
But deep down — beneath the datafeeds and diplomacy and carefully scheduled distractions — I know the truth:
I’m already standing on the edge of something irreversible.
And I’m not sure I want to walk away.
CHAPTER 5