Aqua’s POV
By morning, Fang was worse.
Not louder.
Worse in the quiet way.
He did not hiss when Steven entered the kitchen. He did not block the doorway or strike his tail against the floor every time Steven came too close to me.
He only watched.
That was worse.
His yellow eyes followed Steven from the counter to the table, from the table to the sink, from the sink back to my chair.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Every smile.
Steven noticed.
He would have had to be blind not to.
Still, he set my tea beside me and said nothing about it.
“There.”
I wrapped both hands around the cup.
Chamomile. Honey. A little mint.
Exactly the way I liked it when my head felt heavy.
“Not too hot,” he added.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Fang shifted beside the French doors.
Steven glanced toward him once, then sat across from me.
The warmth from the cup seeped into my palms.
Comforting.
Familiar.
Yesterday had been nice.
Really nice.
Our café. Our usual table by the window. Our first visit there as husband and wife.
The little blue flower.
Steven rubbing the back of his neck when the owner called him sweet.
The way he had held my hand through town like touching me had stopped being something he needed permission from himself to enjoy.
I had liked it.
So why had I slept badly?
Why had I woken with Fang’s unease sitting beneath my skin like a second pulse?
Steven lifted his coffee.
His hair was still slightly damp, a few blond strands falling toward his eyes.
For one moment, with the morning light behind him, he looked so much like himself that my chest softened.
Then he looked up.
Calm.
Waiting.
I lowered my eyes to my tea.
“You came back later than I expected from the field.”
“Not very late.”
“Later than you said.”
“I walked the edge for a while after the jog. I needed air.”
No guilt.
No nervous explanation unraveling into three more explanations.
Just an answer.
Maybe that was good.
Maybe this was what it looked like when Steven stopped letting guilt swallow every thought.
“Was it really only a run?”
His mouth curved slightly.
“No fire. No drills. No training.”
Fang’s head lifted.
Steven noticed.
“I know you don’t believe me.”
Fang did not blink.
Steven looked back at me.
“But I kept my promise.”
I wanted to believe him.
I did.
Mostly.
My body was better again today. My limbs no longer felt hollow, and Currena moved beneath my skin with fewer slow places.
Still, something deeper in me felt crowded.
Maybe I had spent too long inside.
Too many soft chairs.
Too many careful meals.
Too much time noticing Fang noticing Steven.
“I want to go to the lake.”
Steven’s gaze lifted.
“The lake?”
“I think the water would help.”
He studied me for one breath.
Then nodded.
“Then we go to the lake.”
I blinked.
That simple.
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
“I think you know water better than I do.” His voice softened. “If your body is asking for it, we should listen.”
That was exactly what I should have wanted him to say.
“It might clear the rest of this heaviness.”
“Then let it.”
Fang’s tail struck the floor twice.
No.
I looked toward him.
“You do not want me to go?”
His eyes moved to Steven.
Then back to me.
Two taps again.
Steven leaned back slightly.
“If Fang had his way, you would spend the next week wrapped in blankets while he supervised every meal.”
Fang blinked once.
Yes.
A laugh slipped out of me.
Steven smiled toward him.
“See? We understand each other.”
Fang did not look convinced.
I crouched beside him.
“You cannot come.”
His body tightened.
The lake lay beyond the grounds, beyond the house and training field.
Fang could not follow.
I touched two fingers lightly to his head.
“I’ll be fine.”
One tail tap.
No.
“I’ll come back.”
Steven stood.
“I’ll bring her back.”
Fang’s head snapped toward him.
Something silent passed between them.
I could not hear it.
Steven’s expression barely changed.
“Before she overdoes it,” he added.
Fang stayed rigid.
I straightened.
“It is only the lake.”
I smiled because I wanted him to believe me.
Maybe because I wanted to believe myself too.
The lake waited beneath the summer sun.
Blue-green water.
Bright sky.
Trees leaning over the edges as though they wanted to see their own reflections.
The air was warm and damp, but the breeze across the water touched my face differently.
Cleaner.
I stopped near the shore and breathed in.
Water.
Mud.
Grass.
Sun-warmed wood from the dock.
Home.
Not the palace.
Not Atlantis.
This lake had become something else.
Something ours.
It had seen fear.
Fighting.
My people coming after us.
Steven standing beside me when choosing me had not been easy.
But that was not all it had seen.
It had seen us sit near the shore afterward when neither of us knew what to say.
Conversations that stretched longer than either of us planned.
Steven looking at me like he was trying to understand an entire world at once.
Me teasing him until that worried little crease between his brows disappeared.
Somewhere between danger and all the quieter days that followed, the lake had become one of the places where we learned each other.
One of the places where being together stopped feeling new and started feeling like ours.
Maybe today could become another piece of that.
Steven came up beside me.
“Better already?”
I smiled.
“I have not even touched it yet.”
“Maybe it is showing off.”
“That sounds like something Dipsi would say.”
“Then I take it back.”
I laughed.
Small.
Easy.
I slipped off my sandals and rolled my shoulders.
A dull ache pulled between them.
Steven noticed.
“You’re stiff.”
I turned my head.
“Excuse me?”
His mouth curved.
“Your shoulders.”
“That sounded terrible.”
“You knew what I meant.”
“I did after you clarified.”
He gestured toward the dock.
“Sit.”
“You are bossy lately.”
“So I have been told.”
I sat on the end of the dock, my feet still on the dry boards.
Steven settled behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“With what?”
“Getting you loosened up before you decide the lake means you have unlimited energy again.”
“That sounds suspiciously like worrying.”
“Do not spread that around.”
His hands settled lightly on my shoulders.
Warm.
Gentle.
Then his thumbs pressed into the tight muscles near my neck.
“Oh.”
He paused.
“Good oh?”
“Very good oh.”
“Then stop pretending you did not need it.”
“I was not pretending.”
“You were carrying half the house in your shoulders.”
“That is dramatic.”
“So are you.”
I wanted to argue.
Then his fingers found another tight place.
My head tipped slightly.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I needed this.”
“There she is.”
I leaned into the pressure before I could stop myself.
He worked slowly across my shoulders, down the back of my neck, and along the tension beside my shoulder blades.
Every ache I had ignored over the last few days loosened beneath his hands.
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, there was only lake breeze and warmth pressing through tired muscles.
“Steven?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
His hands slowed.
“You’re welcome.”
Simple.
No joke.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
No apology.
Just warmth.
I liked that.
Maybe I was learning to like a lot of things.
His hands finally lifted.
“There.”
I rolled my shoulders.
“Oh, that is much better.”
“I know.”
“You sound pleased with yourself.”
“I am.”
I looked back at him.
He smiled.
“Now that you’re all loosened up, go enjoy yourself.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“Today?” His gaze moved toward the water, then back to me. “I think I’ll watch.”
“You are just going to sit there and watch me swim?”
His smile deepened.
“I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.”
Heat touched my cheeks.
I stood before he could enjoy that too much.
“You really are getting bold.”
“I have been informed.”
I shook my head and stepped toward the water.
---
The first touch around my feet nearly made me sigh.
Cool.
Living.
Mine.
Currena stirred beneath my skin as though waking from a long, troubled sleep.
I kept walking.
Calves.
Knees.
Thighs.
Waist.
Deeper.
Then I stopped holding anything back.
The transformation came easily.
My legs drew together beneath the surface.
Scales shimmered into being.
Silver-blue light rolled downward as my tail formed fully, strong and familiar, fins opening into the water like they had only been waiting for permission.
Relief swept through me so quickly I laughed.
There.
That was better.
No half measures.
No careful testing.
Just me.
I pushed away from shore.
Fast.
The lake opened around me.
I dove.
Water closed over my head, my hair lifting around my face as Currena moved with every stroke and turn.
For the first time in days, there was no heaviness.
No careful counting of steps.
No furniture waiting to catch me.
No one asking if I was sure.
Only movement.
I swam deeper.
Rolled beneath the surface.
Turned and shot upward again.
Sunlight broke over me when I surfaced.
I breathed in and laughed.
The sound carried across the lake.
Steven had moved onto the dock.
He stood near the end, watching me.
Not hovering.
Not calling me back.
Just watching.
I swam toward him and folded my arms along the edge of the dock.
My tail drifted lazily beneath the surface.
Steven looked down at me.
“You look better.”
“I feel better.”
“Good.”
I rested my chin against my arms.
“All thanks to you.”
Something moved in his expression.
“The lake did most of the work.”
“You brought me.”
“You asked to come.”
“And you said yes.”
He crouched near the edge.
“That seems like a low standard for gratitude.”
“Maybe I am easy to impress today.”
“That is useful information.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He smiled.
For a moment, memories layered themselves over the lake.
Steven beside me after everything went wrong.
Steven learning what this place meant to me.
Us talking until the light changed.
Growing closer here without ever announcing that was what we were doing.
The lake had held pieces of us before we even knew which ones mattered.
I looked up at him.
Maybe this was another.
Another ordinary day we would remember later.
Another piece of marriage becoming real.
Steven tilted his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is never nothing.”
I smiled.
Then flicked my tail.
Water flew up over the edge of the dock.
Straight onto him.
He froze.
I bit my lip.
His shirt darkened across the front.
Slowly, he looked down.
Then back at me.
“Did you just splash me?”
“No.”
“Aqua.”
I smiled innocently.
“Must have been the lake.”
His brows lifted.
I flicked my tail again.
A larger splash caught his shirt.
He stared at me.
“That one was definitely you.”
I laughed and pushed away from the dock.
“You cannot prove that.”
“I watched you do it.”
“That sounds circumstantial.”
“You are enjoying yourself far too much.”
I rolled onto my back several feet away.
“That was unnecessary,” he called.
“So was the massage.”
“You enjoyed the massage.”
“You looked like you needed cooling off.”
“Cruel woman.”
I rolled in the water and grinned at him.
“You married me.”
The words came easily.
Playfully.
His expression shifted.
Only for a moment.
Then his smile returned.
“So I did.”
Something about the answer tugged faintly.
Not enough to stop me.
I dove again.
I stayed in the water until I stopped thinking about recovery.
I swam from one end of the dock to the other.
Dove beneath the surface.
Floated on my back and watched clouds cross the sky.
Let my tail carry me wherever I wanted without thinking about strength or stamina.
Currena moved freely.
Smooth.
Bright.
Mine.
At one point, I sank beneath the surface and stayed there because I could.
Quiet wrapped around me.
Peaceful.
I thought of Steven.
Of my memories of him here.
The way he used to worry when I disappeared beneath the water for too long.
How many times I had surfaced only to find him looking toward the exact place I had vanished.
The conversations we had stretched out beside this lake long after either of us meant to stay.
The teasing.
The quiet.
The days when we had come here carrying too much and somehow left carrying a little less.
The way this place had once held fear and fighting, then slowly became somewhere happy too.
Somewhere we had grown closer.
Somewhere that belonged to us because of everything we had lived here together.
And over time, Steven had learned that water was not where I was weakest.
It was where I was strongest.
Maybe that had changed too.
Maybe he trusted me now.
Trusted the lake.
Trusted that I would come back.
The thought warmed me.
I kicked upward.
When I surfaced, he was still on the dock.
Calm.
Watching.
I smiled.
And for a while longer, that was enough.
By the time I finally returned to shore, my whole body felt different.
Restored.
Not completely.
The last few days had still happened.
But the hollowness was gone.
The heaviness behind my eyes had disappeared.
Currena ran clean beneath my skin.
I felt awake.
Strong.
Like myself.
I shifted back in the shallows.
My tail disappeared beneath the water.
Legs returned.
I stepped onto shore.
Steven was already there with the towel.
I smiled.
“I really needed that.”
“I could tell.”
“Thank you for coming with me.”
His expression softened.
“You don’t have to thank me for spending a day with my wife.”
Heat touched my cheeks.
I looked toward the towel.
“You know I can dry myself.”
“I know.”
“I can do it in about two seconds.”
He opened the towel anyway.
“Let me.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
His mouth curved.
“Because I want to.”
Something about the simplicity of that answer softened my chest.
I could have lifted every drop from my hair and skin with Currena.
Instead—
I let him.
Normal couples did silly things they did not need to do.
Maybe this was one of them.
“Fine.”
His smile deepened.
“Fine?”
“You may perform the incredibly difficult task of drying someone who can magically dry herself.”
“I am honored.”
“You should be.”
He stepped closer.
The towel settled around my shoulders, warm from the sun.
His hands gathered my wet hair and pressed the cloth gently around the ends.
I watched him.
“You are taking this very seriously.”
“I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“I thought this was because you wanted to.”
“That too.”
I laughed softly.
The kind of little thing that should have felt ordinary.
Married.
I liked that.
I liked letting him fuss over me when I did not need it.
I liked standing beside the lake while my husband dried my hair because he wanted to.
Steven lowered the towel.
A few wet strands still clung to my cheek.
“You missed some.”
“I am devastated.”
“I told you I could do this faster.”
“And yet you let me.”
“Maybe I am letting you feel useful.”
“How generous.”
He brushed one damp strand away from my cheek.
The smile stayed on my face.
Then faded slightly.
His fingers lingered near my skin.
Warm.
My husband’s fingers.
My husband’s face.
His eyes held mine.
“You really are enjoying this new husband thing,” I murmured.
His expression changed.
Only a little.
“More than I expected.”
Something about the answer made my pulse stumble.
I did not know why.
His gaze lowered to my mouth.
Then returned to my eyes.
“May I?”
The question was soft.
Clear.
He gave me room to say no.
I looked at the face I knew.
The eyes I loved.
The mouth that had kissed me so many times before.
Maybe I had spent days looking so hard for differences that even familiar things had started feeling strange.
“Yes.”
He leaned down.
Slowly.
His hand touched my cheek.
His mouth met mine.
Soft.
Warm.
Gentle.
For one breath—
I liked it.
The closeness.
The confidence.
The familiar shape of him against me.
The feeling of being kissed without his fear arriving first.
Then Currena pulled back inside me.
Quiet.
Sharp.
Like water drawing away from oil.
My eyes opened.
He was still kissing me.
Still gentle.
Still careful.
Still—
wrong.
I pulled away.
His hand left my cheek immediately.
No resistance.
No startled breath.
No panic.
Only a smooth step back.
His eyes searched mine.
“Too much?”
The question was right.
Everything about it was right.
And something underneath it was missing.
I tightened the towel around myself.
“I’m tired.”
His expression softened.
“Do you want to sit?”
“No.”
I looked toward the lake.
The water glittered beneath the sun.
Clear.
Honest.
“I think I want to go home.”
A small pause.
“Was today too much?”
“No.”
That answer came easily.
Because it was true.
“I had a nice day.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“You did?”
“I did.”
The lake had helped.
I had laughed.
I had felt like myself again.
I had enjoyed the massage.
The splashing.
The towel.
Parts of the kiss.
That was what confused me most.
The day had been nice.
Something could be nice and still feel wrong.
Steven reached for the blanket.
“All right.”
No argument.
“We’ll go home.”
I nodded.
Then used Currena to pull the last traces of water from my hair and send them shimmering back toward the lake.
Steven watched.
His mouth curved.
“Show-off.”
That sounded close enough to him that my heart hurt.
I slipped my sandals back on.
Then followed him toward home.
Steven’s POV
I had been awake the whole time.
That was the part Salizar did not understand.
Or maybe he did.
Maybe that was part of the point.
The barrier did not make me unconscious anymore.
It only made me useless.
I could see through my own eyes.
Hear through my own ears.
Feel every movement of my hands.
Every breath in my lungs.
Every step my body took.
I just could not make any of it belong to me.
And I had seen all of it.
Aqua laughing in the lake.
That stayed.
Of everything that happened, that was one of the pieces that hurt worst.
She had laughed because of something he said.
My voice.
My face.
My mouth making hers brighten.
And the worst part was that hearing her laugh still made something inside me soften.
For half a second, I was happy because she was happy.
Then I remembered.
I had not made her laugh.
He had.
Using me.
That should have been me with her.
Every stupid little piece of it.
Her leaning back while I worked the tension from her shoulders.
Her cheeks turning pink when I looked at her too long.
Her swimming toward the dock and smiling up at me.
Splashing me with her tail.
Laughing when I called her cruel.
You married me.
That should have been mine.
Not because she belonged to me.
Because that moment was supposed to belong to us.
That lake already held so many pieces of our life.
Fear.
Fighting.
Choosing each other.
Talking until everything hurt less.
Learning each other.
And now Salizar stood in my place and added himself to it using my face.
I watched Aqua swim.
Really swim.
Happy.
Free.
Her mermaid form flashing silver-blue beneath the water.
And every time she looked toward the dock, she looked at him like she was looking at me.
That was what tore something open.
She thought the smile belonged to me.
Then he dried her hair.
That stupid little moment would not leave me either.
Aqua could have done it herself.
She let him anyway.
She smiled because she thought her husband was trying to be romantic.
I wanted that.
I had wanted stupid married things like that.
Things that became important because they were ours.
I wanted to learn how to touch my own wife without wondering every second if I was doing too much.
Salizar did it easily.
Naturally.
Like confidence had always belonged in my body.
Like he knew how to be me better than I did.
Maybe that was what he wanted me to think.
Look how easy your life is when you stop being afraid.
Look how quickly she smiles when you stop hesitating.
Look how much better I can wear you.
I hated him for it.
I hated myself more.
Then came the kiss.
I knew it was coming before Aqua did.
I felt the way Salizar looked at her mouth.
Felt my own hand lift toward her face.
I pushed against the barrier.
Nothing.
Not one finger.
Not my jaw.
Not my tongue.
Not my throat.
He asked her.
May I?
And Aqua said yes.
Because she thought it was me asking.
She trusted my face.
My voice.
My hands.
And I was the one who had given them to him.
I let this happen.
That part was mine.
I had stepped back.
I had listened when he told me he could help.
I had given him the front because I could not stand what I thought I had done to Aqua.
He pushed.
He knew exactly what to say.
He found every place guilt had already hollowed out and pressed until I stopped fighting.
But I still said yes.
I still opened the door.
And now my wife was kissing someone else through my mouth because of it.
No.
That was too simple.
She thought she was kissing me.
That was worse.
Her lips touched mine.
She softened into it for one second.
One terrible second.
And one ugly thought came fast.
Maybe she liked me better like this.
No.
Salizar was not me.
Aqua did not know.
She had not chosen him.
She had chosen the face of her husband.
The man she believed had finally learned how to stop being afraid of loving her.
Then—
she pulled away.
Hope hit me so hard I almost believed my body would finally react.
It did not.
But Aqua stepped back.
Said she was tired.
Said she wanted to go home.
Then told him she had a nice day.
That hurt too.
Because I knew she meant it.
Of course she had.
She had been swimming.
Laughing.
Playing.
Feeling better.
That should have made me happy.
Part of me was happy.
That was the cruelest thing about loving her.
Even trapped like this, seeing her happy still mattered.
But I knew Aqua.
I knew the difference between her being tired and her reaching for tired because she had not figured out what else to call something yet.
She had felt it.
Maybe not the whole truth.
Maybe not my name or Salizar’s.
But something in that kiss had told her I was missing.
That mattered.
I held onto it because I had nothing else.
I had let Salizar through.
That part was mine.
I had been scared.
He had known exactly where to press, exactly what to say, and I had still been the one who stepped back and gave him room.
I would have to live with that.
If I ever got my body back.
But this—
Aqua laughing for him.
Aqua blushing for him.
Aqua saying yes because she thought his hands were mine—
I had never agreed to this.
And neither had she.
At the shore, she had pulled away.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Aqua-like.
Salizar might think she was only tired.
I knew my wife better.
She had felt something.
Maybe she did not have the name yet.
Maybe she did not understand why my face suddenly felt wrong in front of her.
But Aqua noticed things.
She noticed me.
He could imitate the neck rubbing.
The worrying.
The jokes.
The way I held her hand.
But he could not be everything she knew without knowing why those pieces existed.
He could not keep this up forever.
Aqua was smart.
Aqua was sensitive to every stupid change in me, even the ones I tried to hide.
Sooner or later, she would know.
She had to.
And until she did, I would stay awake.
I would watch.
I would remember.
And if he gave me even one crack in that barrier—
I would make sure she heard me.
---
Aqua’s POV
The walk home was quiet.
Not angry quiet.
That might have been easier.
Steven carried the blanket under one arm.
Neither of us reached for the other.
Maybe he was giving me space after the kiss.
Maybe that should have helped.
It did not.
My body felt better than it had in days.
That was what I could not ignore.
My steps were steady.
My head was clear.
Currena moved smoothly beneath my skin.
I could not blame the strange feeling on exhaustion anymore.
Steven glanced toward me once.
“You really do look better.”
“I feel better.”
“Good.”
That was all.
We kept walking.
The house appeared between the trees.
Familiar windows.
Familiar walls.
Home.
Fang was waiting near the French doors.
The moment we came inside, his head lifted.
Then his yellow eyes found me.
He came directly toward me.
Not Steven.
Me.
His black-and-yellow body moved quickly across the floor until his scales brushed my ankle.
I stopped.
“Hi.”
He raised his head toward me.
Something about the way he held himself made my smile fade.
I crouched.
“I feel better.”
Normally, that would have earned something.
A blink.
A tap.
Some little answer.
Fang only stared.
“The lake helped,” I added.
Nothing.
I frowned.
“Fang?”
His body tightened.
Not much.
Enough that I noticed.
“Are you still angry that I went?”
No answer.
Not even a tail movement.
That was strange.
Fang always answered me.
Sometimes too much.
I glanced toward Steven.
He was setting the blanket aside.
When I looked back, Fang was still watching me.
“Is something wrong?”
His yellow eyes stayed on mine.
Nothing.
My stomach tightened.
“Fang.”
Still nothing.
No blink.
No tap.
No hiss.
He did not look toward Steven.
He did not look away from me.
He simply stayed there as though something inside him had gone rigid.
I reached toward him and touched two fingers lightly against his head.
He allowed it.
That almost made it worse.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
His body tensed beneath my fingers.
For one strange second, I had the feeling that he was trying very hard to do something.
Then the tension disappeared.
He lowered himself beside my feet.
Silent.
I stared down at him.
For days, Fang had been watching Steven.
Following him.
Hissing at things I could not understand.
Answering questions I had not known how to ask correctly.
And now—
nothing.
Steven stepped closer.
“Maybe he is still upset.”
I looked at him.
“Fang does not usually ignore me when he is upset.”
Steven’s expression softened.
“No.”
A small pause.
“He does not.”
Something cold touched the back of my neck.
I looked down again.
Fang had curled beside my ankle.
Guarding me.
Exactly where he always wanted to be.
But he would not answer me.
Could not, some quieter part of me whispered.
I pushed the thought away before I could decide where it had come from.
“I’m tired,” I said.
The excuse came too easily.
Steven’s expression softened.
“Then rest.”
That word again.
Rest.
As if sleep could solve a question I had not learned how to ask.
“I’m going to change.”
“I’ll make tea.”
I nodded and walked down the hall.
Fang followed me.
Silently.
---
I shut the bedroom door behind me.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Steady legs.
Clear head.
No fog.
No dizziness.
No excuse.
I pressed my fingertips to my lips.
The kiss had not been bad.
That was the part I hated most.
It had been gentle.
Careful.
Warm.
I had liked it for a second.
Because I thought it was Steven.
Then Currena had pulled away.
Not from his body.
From something inside it.
That sounded impossible.
I changed slowly.
Fresh dress.
Loose braid.
Anything to keep my hands occupied.
When I opened the door, Steven was waiting in the hall with tea.
He held out the cup.
Our fingers brushed when I took it.
Warm.
Again.
Always warm.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That sounded closer.
My chest hurt because I noticed.
He studied me.
“Are you angry with me?”
The question surprised me.
There.
Something less polished.
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
I looked into the tea.
“I don’t know.”
He was quiet.
Then:
“I can wait until you do.”
Kind.
Patient.
Exactly what I should have needed.
Fang appeared at the end of the hall.
Steven saw him and stepped back.
“I’ll be in the sitting room.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I know.” His mouth curved faintly. “Maybe I am learning when to.”
Then he walked away.
Fang watched him go.
Something cold settled deeper beneath my ribs.
Because Fang did not look relieved.
By dinner, my body had started asking for bed even if my thoughts had not.
Steven made something simple.
Fang stayed close to my chair.
Later, Steven looked at me.
“Bed?”
“I’m not that tired.”
“You almost fell asleep over dinner.”
“I was blinking slowly.”
“You were dreaming into your potatoes.”
A laugh escaped me.
Steven smiled.
Small.
Almost shy.
My heart reached for it greedily.
There.
Maybe I had been wrong.
Maybe the lake had made everything too sharp.
Maybe fear had taught me to look for something strange and I had found it because I expected to.
Maybe.
I wanted maybe.
Steven held out his hand.
I took it.
Fang followed us to the bedroom door.
Steven looked down at him.
“You may stay in the hall.”
Fang did not move.
Steven’s mouth curved.
“Or directly in the doorway.”
One blink.
Yes.
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Good night, Fang.”
His yellow eyes held mine.
For one second, I wanted him to do something impossible.
Speak.
Tell me exactly what I was missing.
He only lowered his head.
Steven left the door cracked.
“For him.”
“Thank you.”
We prepared for bed quietly.
He placed water on my side table, checked the window, and moved through the room with that same careful ease.
I watched from the edge of the mattress.
He turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is never nothing.”
I blinked.
The words were mine.
Or close enough.
“You stole that from me.”
“I borrow many useful things from my wife.”
My face warmed.
Even now.
He sat beside me.
Not too close.
Not far.
“Are you afraid of me?”
The room went still.
“No.”
Too fast.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hands.
“You said that quickly.”
“So did you this morning.”
His mouth curved.
“Fair.”
I breathed in.
“I am not afraid of you. I am afraid something between us feels strange, and I cannot tell whether it is because we are healing, or changing, or because I am imagining things.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
For one heartbeat, something behind them sharpened.
Then softened.
“Then we do not force it.”
My chest ached.
I had been the steady one for him so many times.
Now he was doing it for me.
So why did it feel less like being held—
and more like being studied?
He raised one hand slowly and touched my cheek.
“I can sleep somewhere else if you want.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Whatever this ache was, the thought of him leaving hurt worse.
“No. Stay.”
He nodded.
No rush of relief.
No breath leaving him because he had feared another answer.
Only acceptance.
Gentle.
Correct.
I lay down first.
He followed, leaving space between us.
Enough that I could breathe.
Enough that I could miss him from inches away.
The room darkened.
Summer insects sang beyond the window.
Steven’s breathing evened beside me.
I turned my head.
His face had softened against the pillow.
Blond hair across his forehead.
One hand resting near the space between us.
Peaceful.
So peaceful it hurt.
I waited.
I did not know I was waiting until the silence stretched too long.
Then I knew.
My name.
Usually, when Steven slept deeply enough, sooner or later my name escaped him.
Soft.
Unplanned.
Sometimes barely more than breath.
As though some part of him reached for me even when everything else had gone quiet.
I listened.
Nothing.
I told myself not every night was the same.
I told myself no one should have to prove love while sleeping.
Still—
I waited.
After a while, I brushed the hair from his forehead.
He shifted toward me.
My heart jumped.
His body turned slightly.
His hand moved closer to my waist.
Not touching.
Only near.
Hope rose sharply.
There.
I held my breath.
Nothing.
No whisper.
No broken little sound.
No—
Aqua.
My throat tightened around the name he did not say.
Where is it?
The thought came small.
Then colder.
Where is my name?
Maybe he was too tired.
Maybe I had turned a habit into something sacred because I was frightened.
But the lake had cleared too much from me.
My body was not foggy anymore.
Currena was not sluggish.
I could not hide behind exhaustion tonight.
This was his face.
His body.
His warmth.
But something beneath all that familiar warmth—
felt wrong.
I slowly moved his hand away from my waist.
He did not wake.
He did not reach again.
The silence beside me became too large.
I sat up.
Fang’s shape was visible through the crack in the door.
Coiled in the hall.
Watching.
Waiting.
Knowing something he could not tell me.
My eyes burned.
If I was wrong, tomorrow would prove it.
Not with facts.
Facts could be remembered.
Not with questions someone could prepare answers for.
With us.
With the little things.
With the places love forgot to perform.
I looked down at Steven’s sleeping face.
Then at Fang.
Then back again.
For the first time, I allowed the impossible thought to stay long enough to frighten me.
What if Steven was not the one looking out through those eyes?