I don’t look at him right away.
My pulse is still erratic. My lips swollen. My bones boneless.
“I needed that,” I say quietly.
His hand finds mine, fingers lacing. “I know.”
It starts in the small things.
A half-second delay in the Meld. A twitch in the neural overlay. A pause between breath and thought that didn’t used to be there.
We move as one in the simulation chamber—but nottogether.It’s like dancing out of rhythm. Like reaching for a hand and finding air. No missteps, but no music either.
Naull doesn’t say it aloud. He never does. But I see it in his eyes after every test—confused, cautious, cracked.
The Meld is breaking.
And I think I know why.
Later, I lie beside Garma in his tiny bed, one arm curled around him, my nose pressed to the curve of his scalp where sweat still clings like dew. His breath is steady. Deep. Innocent.
My child.
Ours.
The apartment’s quiet. Too quiet.
Naull’s door is ajar. Light seeps beneath it, flickering blue. Probably studying Meld telemetry again. Trying to figure out why the sync won’t stabilize. Why our bond is fraying at the edges.
Because he thinks it’s something technical.
God, I wish it was.
I pour tea I don’t drink. Stand in the kitchen barefoot, chilled. My hands tremble around the mug.
Because the secret isn’t just heavy—it’s turning into something venomous. A virus in our code. Every time he touches me, I feel it spread. Every kiss tastes like guilt. Every look like a silent scream.
This isn’t just a lie anymore.
It’s a weapon.
I walk to the window and stare at the city lights.
Oxford looks softer at night. Less ancient. Less judgmental. The cobblestones blur. The spires disappear into the fog. The world becomes a suggestion.
And for a minute, I pretend I don’t have to say anything.
That I can just love him and keep this truth folded tight inside me like an old war map—worn, bloody, hidden.
But I know I can’t.
Not forever.
Not evensoon.
Because it’s not just about me anymore.
I remember the way he looked at me last night. The way his mouth trembled when I whispered his name. The way his hands shook when they gripped my hips like he was afraid I’d dissolve if he let go.
