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Because Aereth is here.

And Naira is watching.

And something deep inside me is crumbling like sand, drifting into the wind.

31

NAIRA

Iexpected this but conveniently forgot.

But expectation doesn’t soften the blow. Nothing could.

The moment Aereth steps closer to Zephiran, the moment her fingers graze his arm, the moment he lets her— something inside me snaps.

A slow, splintering crack.

Not loud, nor dramatic.

Just a quiet, insidious tear through the already fraying edges of whatever I thought we were.

This is proof.

That I was never supposed to matter. I just got carried away that night.

Whatever game we’ve been playing—whatever heat, whatever desperation we shared in the dark— means nothing.

She is here. And he is letting her touch him.

The moment I move, his eyes flick to me.

I refuse to stop.

I grip the reins of my horse, pulling back just slightly, creating distance between us.

Maybe ot enough for Aereth to care.

But enough for him to see it.

The rejection.

The quiet damn you in the way I straighten my back. I keep my gaze fixed on the road ahead, and I pretend I don’t feel the heaviness of his stare pressing into my nape.

Aereth is beautiful. Everything I am not.

She’s not the kind of beauty that exists in the ruins of war, in the shadows of the undercity, in the bloodstained hands of thieves and killers.

She is perfect.

The kind of delicate, ethereal perfection that makes people forget she was ever meant to rot in a grave.

She moves like a queen stepping into her kingdom. Her voice is soft, sweet, poison wrapped in silk.

She’s everything a man like Zephiran should want. Someone he was supposed to have.

Everything I will never fucking be.

Even now, even after everything that happened, there’s a part of me that still wants him to want me more.