Sunlight crept in through the half-drawn curtains, laying quiet gold across the edge of the bed. The room was still, wrapped in a kind of calm that didn't come often anymore.
Kael Revenhart lay awake beside her—beside Rin—his fingers loosely brushing the edge of her hand. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the ceiling. Long enough to forget what time it was. Long enough to remember what silence used to feel like.
He turned his head slowly, gaze settling on her still frame. She looked peaceful. Safe. And because of her, so did this moment.
"She makes the mornings feel lighter than they should be."
She stirred, her eyes still closed, but that familiar smirk tugged at her lips.
"Mm. You talking to the ceiling again… or me?" she mumbled.
Kael let out a breath—half-chuckle, half-sigh. "Whoever listens without interrupting."
"That's rude," she muttered. "But fair."
She cracked one eye open and stretched her arm across his chest lazily. "Did you sleep okay?"
Kael paused before answering. Not because he didn't know—but because the truth felt rare lately.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I actually did."
Later, Kael stood shirtless at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth in slow circles. The mirror was still fogged from the shower. He wiped it with his forearm, stared at himself like he was studying a face he hadn't seen in years.
The scar above his left collarbone was still there. He'd gotten it during one of those late-night construction site accidents he used to think would kill him. Funny how not dying always left more to unpack.
Out in the kitchen, Rin hummed while frying eggs. She wore one of his old hoodies, hair tied up with a pencil jammed through it like a makeshift hair stick. Domestic. Effortless.
Kael stepped in and kissed her cheek from behind. "Smells dangerous."
She grinned. "Only way you'll stay interested."
He smirked and poured himself a glass of water. "You had me at 'eggs.'"
As she plated the food, he drifted toward the window, watering the plant sitting on the sill. His hand paused mid-pour. Something about the angle of the leaves made his chest tighten.
Flashback.
A warm voice from another time.
"You're drowning this thing again," she said, laughing, guiding his wrist.
He looked over. Amara. Her smile framed by sunlight. Her fingers over his.
"It needs sunlight," she'd told him. "Like you."
Back to now.
Kael's fingers tightened slightly on the watering can. He exhaled, slow and steady, and set it down.
His phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Eli.
Bar later?
Kael stared at it a second longer than he should've.
He typed back:
Yeah. Need a drink or a distraction. Or both.
Hours later, he stood at his mother's grave.
The cemetery was quiet. Not heavy—just hushed, like it was holding its breath. There were two markers in front of him. One for his mother. The other…
"Amara Lys – Loved Beyond Life."
Kael crouched beside it and brushed off the dried leaves that had gathered around the base. The engraving was worn. Weather had faded the lettering, but he didn't need it to remember.
"You said forever," he murmured, fingertips tracing the stone. "I didn't know forever had a timer."
Behind him, a familiar voice broke the moment.
"You still talking to ghosts?" Eli's tone was light, but there was weight under it.
Kael didn't turn. "Some ghosts talk back."
Eli stepped beside him, cigarette already lit. He offered one to Kael, who shook his head.
"Suit yourself," Eli said, puffing slowly. "You still carrying this?"
Kael stood, brushing off his knees. "What else am I supposed to do with it?"
They walked downtown as the sky shifted from blue to pale orange. A light breeze moved the trees, making the streets feel alive but not loud.
"You happy?" Eli asked casually, stuffing his free hand in his jacket pocket.
Kael didn't answer right away.
"I'm… something," he finally said.
Eli grinned. "That's always your answer."
"You keep asking the same question."
They crossed the street. A group of college students laughed outside a boba shop, their voices distant but clear.
Eli flicked his cigarette away. "She's not Amara."
Kael stopped walking.
"I know that," he said, quieter now.
"I'm not saying it like a warning. I'm saying it because I've seen how you look at her. You're not trying to replace her. But you are trying to forget that you can't."
Kael looked up at the sky.
"She held me together, Eli."
"And who's holding her now?"
That evening, Rin was home early. She had cleaned, cooked, and left his sketchpad untouched—until now.
She opened it gently. The top page was a half-drawn portrait. A woman. Eyes soft. Smile hidden behind shadow.
Rin stared at it. Her fingertips hovered over the page but didn't touch.
The door opened. Kael's keys dropped into the bowl like always.
"You're home early," she said, closing the sketchbook quickly.
"Didn't feel like staying out," he replied.
She turned with a smile and held up a spoon. "Taste test?"
Kael leaned down and tried it. "Always."
That night, Kael lay awake again. Rin was fast asleep beside him. Her breathing was slow. Rhythmic. Peaceful.
He slipped out of bed quietly, walked to his desk, and flipped open the sketchbook. The same half-drawn portrait stared back at him.
He reached for a pencil… then stopped.
"I moved on," he whispered to no one. "But I never really let go, did I?"
His phone buzzed on the table beside him. The screen lit up.
Detective Juno Kade.
Kael stared at the name. His heartbeat slowed. Then quickened.
He didn't answer.
Outside the window, the wind carried the city's silence across the night. And in the stillness, something old stirred.