It had been over a month since that night when Lexie had reached a fraction of Isiah's guarded, rotten soul.
Neither of them had spoken of it, nor had they crossed paths again. It was as though the moment had been sealed away, buried deep in a place neither dared to revisit.
Lexie, for her part, had stopped doing anything that tethered her to him. She no longer sought him out, no longer tried to mend the bridge or unravel the cold indifference he wrapped himself in.
Instead, she poured her focus into healing—physically. It was a slow, painful process, but she surrounded herself with Ciel and Eijar, even Astrid was treating her nicely .
It was a blessing, really, to have them. She should have been thankful, and on most days, she was. Yet, in the quiet moments, when the world felt still and the weight of solitude crept in, she found herself thinking of him.
