Mira’s mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. She turned away from Kael, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as if to shield against the raw vulnerability she had just witnessed. The truth should have been a relief, yet it only deepened the ache in her chest. Daniel’s death wasn’t Kael’s doing, but neither was it an act of pure fate. Something—or someone—had manipulated the fragile threads of reality.

“I believe you,” she murmured finally, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “But this... this doesn’t absolve you of everything.”

Kael nodded solemnly, his towering presence softening. “I never sought absolution. I only wanted you to understand.”

Mira turned back to him, her tear-filled eyes blazing with determination. “If you’re not the one who caused this... then who did?”

Kael’s expression darkened, a flicker of fury flashing in his molten amber eyes. “That’s the question I’ve been trying to answer. Whoever meddled in your life didn’t just act against you—they acted against me. And that, Mira, is unforgivable.”

Kael watched Mira as her trembling fingers brushed against her temple. The weight of the revelations he had shown her was evident in the way she clutched herself, trying to piece together a world that had been shattered not once, but twice.

He wanted to reach for her, to steady her, to pull her close as he had in her dreams. His body moved of its own accord, his hand lifting halfway toward her before he caught himself. He clenched his fist and stepped back, the pain of restraint a necessary penance.

Every time she sobbed, though she tried to mask it behind stoic composure, his heart broke. The ache in his chest wasn’t the lingering mark of her knife but the gaping wound of her anguish.

“Mira,” he whispered. His voice was steady, soothing, though his own soul trembled.

She turned to him, her expression sharp despite the tears brimming in her eyes. “Why? Why were you in my life at all, Kael? Why me?”

He hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then, with deliberate care, he answered. “Because fate brought me to you. And because I could not ignore you once I saw you.”

Her brow furrowed, and she sank into the chair by the conference table, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Kael hesitated only a moment before mirroring her, his movements slow, deliberate, so as not to startle her.

She stared at him, her sharp gaze piercing. “You said you didn’t kill him. That it was fate. But you’ve meddled with fate before, haven’t you?”

Kael’s lips quirked, a faint, almost wistful smile gracing his features. “Yes. I have walked the threads of time, shifted the balance where I thought it was necessary. But there are forces even I cannot control. The death of your husband was a collision of chaos and inevitability. I tried to stop it, but... I am not all-powerful.”

“Not all-powerful,” she repeated, a bitter edge to her voice. “Then what are you?”

For the first time, Kael laughed—a soft, low sound that warmed the cold air between them. It was almost seductive, pulling at Mira’s already fraught nerves. “I’m human, or at least I was. When humans still lived in caves, I was one of them. The universe offered me enlightenment, and with it came immortality. A blessing and a curse. I became a warlock.”

Mira blinked, taken aback by the matter-of-factness of his confession. “Immortality?” she echoed.

“And a responsibility,” he added, his voice tinged with the gravity of ancient wisdom. “Warlocks and witches like me are created to protect and maintain balance. Sometimes, that balance means creating chaos, upsetting the order to build something better. We are nature’s architects and demolishers, bound to serve the greater good—or what we believe to be so.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Mira stared at Kael, her mind racing to reconcile the man in front of her with the one who had haunted her dreams and the truths he had just shared.

Finally, she broke the silence. “So you’re saying that in your infinite wisdom, you decided I needed saving? That I was somehow... broken?”

Kael flinched as though her words were a blade slicing through him. “No. Mira, you were never broken. You were... everything I had forgotten to hope for.”

Her breath hitched, the vulnerability in his words hitting her harder than she expected. She tried to focus, to pull her thoughts together. “And yet, you haunted my dreams, tried to bend me to your will—”

“Because I was selfish!” Kael interjected, his voice raw. He leaned forward, his amber eyes alight with a fire that sent a shiver down her spine. “Because I couldn’t bear to see you belong to someone else. But I see now that I was wrong.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air between them. Mira’s voice softened. “You were wrong to take my dreams, my peace, my life, Kael. And now you’re telling me it was all for nothing? That Daniel’s death wasn’t even your doing?”

Kael nodded slowly, his expression one of resigned anguish. “I tried to stop it, Mira. But whoever or whatever caused it was more cunning, more powerful than I anticipated. And now... now I will find out who.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the battle raging in her mind plain on her face. Finally, she stood, her movements resolute. “Then I want to know the truth too. Not your truth, Kael. The real truth.”

Kael rose with her, his expression unreadable once more. “And you shall have it.”

For the first time, Mira didn’t flinch when he offered his hand. This time, when she placed her hand in his, it wasn’t out of trust, but necessity.

And Kael, despite the lingering ache in his heart, vowed to himself: he would never let her fall again.

Kael’s car glided to a stop outside Mira’s townhouse, the quiet hum of the engine barely audible over the gentle patter of rain against the windows. The ride home had been a quiet one, Mira’s thoughts too scattered to sustain conversation and Kael’s uncharacteristically subdued demeanour reflecting the gravity of the evening’s revelations.

When he pulled into the curb, Kael turned to her. “You’ve had a long night. Rest, Mira.”

She hesitated her hand on the door handle. Then, curiosity bubbled to the surface, momentarily overpowering her exhaustion. “Your place... is it far?”

Kael’s lips curved into a faint smile, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “No, it’s never far. My sanctum exists outside the constraints of distance. I can reach it from anywhere.”

Mira frowned, trying to parse his words, but the fatigue clouding her mind dulled her understanding. “How does that even work?”

“It’s... complicated,” he said, his tone playful yet evasive. “But think of it as a very private, very magical key. One I never lose.”

Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile if she hadn’t been so drained. “Convenient,” she muttered, reaching for her bag. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Could you, um, swing by tomorrow morning? I don’t think I can handle the tube. Too many people.”

The request felt strangely intimate, and Mira braced for an awkward silence. But instead, Kael’s expression softened, his smile blooming like a slow dawn. “Of course,” he said, his voice as warm and rich as the night’s still air. “I’ll be here.”

The next morning, Mira sat at her small kitchen table, staring into her cup of coffee with bleary eyes. Her night had been restless—haunted by fractured dreams of Kael’s confession, Daniel’s death, and the unsettling revelations of fate’s meddling. Her mind churned with questions, but her body was sluggish, her limbs heavy as though gravity had decided to exert a personal vendetta.

She glanced out the window at Kael’s car, which still sat in the exact same spot it had occupied the night before. The sight tickled her curiosity, but her thoughts were too foggy to pursue it further. Instead, she took another sip of coffee, savoring the brief comfort of its warmth.

Her musings were interrupted by the sharp chime of her doorbell. Startled, she set her mug down, frowning as she stood to answer it. When she opened the door, Kael was there, looking impossibly refreshed and poised, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice smooth as silk.

Mira blinked, taking in his pristine appearance. His dark hair was impeccably styled, and his amber eyes sparkled with an energy that only deepened her envy. “You’re... early,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious about her rumpled pajamas and tired face.

“Am I?” he asked, his smile widening slightly. “You did ask me to swing by, didn’t you?”

Mira stepped aside to let him in, rubbing her temple as she followed him to the kitchen. He took a seat at her table, his movements fluid and graceful, as if he belonged there. He accepted the cup of coffee she handed him with a soft “thank you,” and for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of the rain tapping against the window.

Between sips, Kael broke the silence. “You do know the office is closed today,” he said, his tone conversational but laced with amusement.

Mira turned to him, startled. “What?”

He smiled warmly, his gaze meeting hers over the rim of his mug. “It’s Saturday.”

Her confusion deepened as she processed his words. “Saturday?” she echoed, glancing at the clock on the wall as if it might offer some clarity. “But I thought—”

“You’ve been so consumed with work and... everything else,” Kael said gently, setting his cup down. “It’s understandable. Time has a way of slipping through your fingers when you’re overwhelmed.”

Mira sank into the chair opposite him, her expression a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. “Great. I’ve been losing track of the days now. What’s next?”

Kael chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “Perhaps it’s a sign that you need to slow down. Rest.”

Mira frowned, her thoughts racing despite her exhaustion. But before she could respond, Kael leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady and sincere. “Let me help you, Mira. Today, tomorrow—however long it takes for you to feel like yourself again.”

His words, so simple and earnest, stirred something in her—a fragile, tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to bear this burden alone. She hesitated, then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Kael sat in serene stillness, his cup of coffee cradled in one hand as he watched the rain cascade down Mira’s kitchen window. The soft patter of raindrops provided a soothing backdrop, contrasting the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Mira sat across from him, hunched over her cup, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to drift into her own thoughts.

He didn’t press her, allowing her the silence she seemed to need. Kael had learned patience over his centuries of existence, a skill forged in the crucible of waiting—for moments, for answers, for her. So, he sipped his coffee and waited, his gaze flicking occasionally toward her, his presence steady and grounding.