The mirror in Ren’s cabin wasn’t large, but it didn’t miss much.

Fresh out of the shower, a towel tied low around his waist, he stood there longer than he needed to, looking at himself like there was something new to find. His gaze moved slowly over his face—his lips, his brows, the shape of his eyes, his jaw. Nothing looked out of place. It was the same face he saw every day, the same details that didn’t change no matter how long he stared.

Still, he didn’t look away.

He tilted his head slightly, studying the angle of his nose like it might look different from this side, like there was something he hadn’t noticed before. There wasn’t, and he knew that, but the thought stayed anyway, sitting there without needing proof.

The moment from earlier came back without warning—the way he stepped forward, the way he tried to make it light, the way she left.

He exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly as his eyes dropped for a second before lifting again.

Maybe I pushed it.

The thought didn’t feel dramatic. It just sat there.

He ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped away from the mirror.

—

Lyra had been awake for a while, lying flat on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. From the outside, nothing about her looked off. Her breathing stayed even, her expression calm, like she hadn’t moved since she woke up.

But her thoughts didn’t follow that stillness. They kept circling, never settling long enough to make sense of any of it.

His shoulders. The way the water ran down his skin. The look he gave her when he said it.

It came back in pieces, not all at once, but enough to linger.

She shifted onto her side, pulling the blanket in slightly as her fingers tightened around the fabric without thinking. Her brows pulled together, her jaw setting as she tried to push it away, but it didn’t go anywhere.

She let out a slow breath and pressed her face lightly into the pillow, like that might help her ignore it, but the feeling stayed, sitting somewhere she couldn’t quite reach.

She didn’t have a name for it, and that bothered her more than anything else.

—

When she woke again, the light had changed.

The room had dimmed, the last traces of daylight slipping through the window in a way that made it hard to tell how much time had passed. The air felt heavier now, warm in a way that lingered against her skin.

She pushed herself up slowly, the movement a little delayed, like her body hadn’t fully caught up yet. There was a faint lightness in her head when she stood, but it passed quickly enough that she didn’t think about it.

She walked to the door and opened it, letting the cooler air from outside drift in. She stood there for a moment, breathing it in, holding it a little longer than necessary before letting it out.

It helped, just not enough.

The thought from earlier came back again, quieter this time but heavier in a way that made it harder to ignore. She frowned slightly, not liking that it stayed, but there wasn’t anything she could do with it.

After a moment, she turned back inside and changed into something simple—dark, loose, nothing that stood out. Something that didn’t make her think twice.

Then she headed to the kitchen.

It was empty, and the realization sat there for a second before she moved past it.

She grabbed a bowl, poured cereal, added almond milk from the mini fridge in her room, and sat down without really thinking about it. The sound of the first bite felt louder than it should have, the quiet around her making it more noticeable than usual.

She kept eating anyway.

By the time she finished, nothing had really changed.

She set the bowl aside and went back to her room.

Sleep came easier this time.

—

Ren hadn’t eaten.

The book in his hands had been open for a while, but he hadn’t turned a page. His eyes moved across the lines without taking anything in, the words blending together until they stopped meaning anything.

He closed it without marking where he left off.

The room felt smaller than before.

After a second, he stood up and stepped outside.

The air was cooler now, the heat from earlier fading into something easier to breathe through. He stayed there for a moment, looking out at the water, letting the quiet settle without trying to fill it.

It didn’t last.

His thoughts drifted back to her without much effort, not as sharp as before, but not gone either. The frustration from earlier had worn down into something else—something quieter, harder to place.

He exhaled slowly and made his way up to the top deck.

Time passed without him noticing. The sky darkened fully, the water below turning into a flat stretch that didn’t reflect much back.

Then a door opened below.

The sound was faint, but it carried.

Ren stilled without thinking, his shoulders tightening slightly as the recognition settled in before he could question it.

Footsteps followed, slow and measured, coming up.

His gaze stayed fixed ahead, but his focus wasn’t on the water anymore. He could feel it—the distance closing, the space behind him no longer empty.

He didn’t turn right away. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, though he wasn’t seeing any of it now. He wasn’t sure what he’d find if he did, and something about that made him hesitate. The footsteps came to a stop behind him, close enough that the distance didn’t need confirming. 

He already knew.