I realized he meant my hidden eyelid. “Yes.”
Thrilled, he fumbled for the notepad on his desk and scribbled into it. “How come I’ve never seen it before?”
I tilted my head. I wondered that, too. Why had my instincts chosen now to kick in? Was it because Jaeyoung finally eased his grip on his feelings and allowed me to be closer to him?
“I can’t be sure,” I admitted. “It is my first time... seeing through it.”
His pen stopped on the writing pad. “What do you mean? Tell me everything, please.”
I gestured in the air with my claw. “Can you see them? The particles?”
“What particles?” Jaeyoung asked, voice teeming with curiosity.
In all my experience staring into Jaeyoung’s eyes, I’d never seen a hidden membrane. Perhaps humans didn’t have them. Or maybe they only appeared in certain conditions, like for me.
“There are glowing flecks connecting us. Seeping up from the soil, entering both our bodies,” I said.
For a second, Jaeyoung looked panicked, then he paused. “Wait a minute.” He hastily flipped through his notes, scouring it for a particular passage. The moment he found it, his eyes widened.
“When Levi got pregnant, Zat’tor said something strange,” Jaeyoung muttered. “He said the soil decides filum.”
Understanding washed over me. My sibling was correct. I should’ve heeded his wisdom earlier.
Jaeyoung whipped towards me. “Is that what he meant? Can you see a literal connection seeping up from the soil?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to knock the air from his lungs. He staggered backwards into his chair, staring at his notes without seeing them.
“And only filum can breed,” he murmured. “That means...”
He went quiet.
The hidden membrane remained across my vision. I saw the gold particles circulating through Jaeyoung like fluffy flower seedpods floating across a clear sky. It filled me with desire for him—physical, emotional,everything. I needed to be closer to him.
“Do you believe me?” I asked.
He met my gaze. A flicker of hesitation remained, but the trusting warmth in his eyes was stronger.
Finally, he said, “I do. Even if I have no evidence.” A slight smile tugged at his lips. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”
I beamed. I knew how much Jaeyoung valued scientific and tangible evidence. The fact that he believed me without being able to see the glowing particles with his own eyes meant so much.
Jaeyoung stood from his seat and approached me slowly. “Actually, thereisa way to prove it,” he said under his breath. “If only filum can breed, and your fleck-vision means that you andI are filum, then...” His throat hitched as he swallowed. “Then everything will fall into place if you impregnate me.”
An electric sensation skittered up my spine. I put my hands on Jaeyoung’s arms, smoothing them down his soft skin.
“I want nothing more,” I growled.
His cheeks turned pink. He seemed to have a difficult time gathering his words. Our conversation left him dazed. I didn’t blame him. He’d been through a lot within the past few hours, although our time together felt like precious years.
Jaeyoung let out a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? To discover the mystery of human-Maeleon fertilization for myself.”
There was a faltering undertone to his words, like he made it to a bridge and was now afraid to cross.
“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” I told him. “And it’s okay if you’re never ready. Being a parent is difficult. It is not for everyone. But you are my filum, and I’ll be with you always, regardless of whether we create a child or not.”
Jaeyoung lifted his head. His dark eyes wavered with emotion. Breathing out hard, he buried his face in his palm.
