We stand in silence for a minute. I don’t know what I expected. Not warmth, maybe not even words. But the quiet between us isn’t hostile. It’s lived-in. Familiar.
“They scrubbed the inside,” she says finally. “Every surface. Every drive. Coalition crews came in with scrubbers and sealants. No one’s been inside since.”
I stare at the place. The entrance still has the scuff marks from boots that ran—some away from the blast, some toward it. I wonder if the ash inside still holds our outlines.
“You coming to say goodbye to the building or to me?” she asks.
“Both.”
Ceera raises a brow, like she didn’t expect honesty.
I exhale slowly. “I’m tired.”
“Of me?”
“Of hiding. Of running. Of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
She turns toward me fully, brows furrowed. “You thinking of settling down with that man of yours?”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Ceera chuckles. “Well, that’s new.”
I shoot her a sideways glare, but there’s no heat in it. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of everything going quiet. Of no longer being useful. Of turning into someone who has to learn how to be soft.”
Ceera’s face softens. “You already are, Kels. You just don’t wanna admit it.”
She kicks a rock off the step. It bounces and rolls into a drain. The sound echoes like a gunshot in the silence.
“You remember when we first met?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“You smiled like you’d kill me in my sleep.”
“You said that was what made you trust me.”
Ceera chuckles. “It was. You weren’t hiding it.”
We fall quiet again. Somewhere overhead, a drone zips past but doesn’t stop. Too fast, too disinterested. The world’s moved on.
Ceera sips her synth-coffee. “I’m leaving tonight.”
“I figured.”
“Got a contract on Coalition Core. Civil gate reconstruction. Nothing shady. Just numbers and welds.”
“Sounds boring.”
She laughs. “That’s the point. I want boring. For once.”
“Think they’ll let you live long enough to be bored?”
“That’s the gamble, isn’t it?”
