He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
I stack the remaining signs into a neat pile, anger builds. Not at him, never at him, but at the system that's made him so afraid of accepting help that he'd rather face deportation alone than risk the wrong kind of attention.
"What if we kept it quiet?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "No more flash mobs, no public demonstrations. Just strategic documentation. Legal research. The kind of support that doesn't make waves."
Ursak looks up from the sign, something shifting in his expression. Hope, maybe. Or the beginning of it.
"You would do that? After I've been..." He gestures vaguely, encompassing days of avoided calls and closed doors.
"After you've been scared and trying to protect yourself? Yeah, I'd do that." I meet his eyes, surprised by my own certainty. "I'd do a lot of things, actually. If you'd let me."
The admission hangs between us, heavier than I intended. We're not just talking about immigration law anymore, and we both know it.
Ursak sets the sign aside and takes a step closer. "Maya?—"
"I know it's complicated," I rush to say. "With the visa situation and everything uncertain. I needed you to know. That you don't have to handle this alone. Whatever happens."
"And if I'm deported?"
The question cuts deep, but I force myself to meet it head-on. "Then we figure out how to make it work anyway. Long distance. Visits. Whatever it takes."
His smile this time reaches his eyes. Small and tentative, but real. "Stone warms slow?"
"Yeah." I smile back, remembering the orcish idiom he taught me. "Stone warms slow. But some stones are worth the wait."
He reaches out, fingers brushing mine where they rest on the washing machine. Brief contact, but it sends electricity up my arm and settles something restless in my soul.
"Thirteen days," he says quietly.
"Thirteen days to build the strongest case possible." I turn my hand palm up, letting our fingers intertwine properly. "No more hiding. No more handling this alone."
"No more livestock trading either?"
"I make no promises about the livestock."
His laugh rumbles through the small space, rich and warm and exactly what I needed to hear. For the first time since this nightmare started, I feel like we might actually have a chance.
Thirteen days. It's not long, but it's what we have. And maybe, with the right strategy and a little bit of luck, it'll be enough.
CHAPTER 12
URSAK
TAP. TAP-TAP.
The sound echoes through the university archives like water dripping in a cave. I look up from the medieval manuscript spread across my desk, expecting to see Professor Williams checking on the late-night researchers again.
Instead, Maya's face appears at the glass partition separating the restricted section from the main reading room. She waves a takeout bag and points to her watch.
Eight-thirty.I've been here since noon, lost in thirteenth-century Germanic dialects and the comforting routine of academic work. Anything to keep my mind off immigration forms and countdown calendars.
She mouths something I can't quite catch through the glass, then holds up a visitor's badge clipped to her jacket. The security guard must have let her in. I gesture toward the side entrance, where she can access the restricted area if she signs the log book.
Five minutes later, she's sliding into the chair across from my desk, setting down containers that smell like heaven. "Thai food. The good kind, not the tourist stuff."
"How did you find me?"
"Your office hours sheet said you'd be here until nine. Plus, you mentioned this place before." She opens one container,steam rising. "Figured you might need sustenance. And company."
