I leaned back next to her, the couch creaking under the slight weight of shared grief.
“Gods, we are in a very similar situation,” I sighed, letting the heaviness of it settle between us.
“I will leave tomorrow. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you.” Farris looked around the space, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edge of the table.
“Honestly, it is nice to have someone here. These past few weeks have been difficult. You can stay for as long as you’d like.” My voice softened, almost reluctant to let her go.
“Really?” She looked at me, eyes wide, as if unsure she deserved the offer.
“Yes.” I smiled, and for a brief second, it felt like warmth could exist in the room. “Maybe fate wanted us to find each other—two lost souls.”
Farris’ eyebrows pinched together before she smiled softly, tentative but genuine. My chest ached when I saw her lip cut. She nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Do you believe in fate?” she asked.
My breath caught. “I don’t know anymore. I used to.”
She gave a sad laugh. “Same. I used to think the stars gave us what we needed. Now I think they just watch us suffer for sport. I used to think I would be rewarded for doing what wasasked of me, for following my duty. But all it has brought is heart break and endless thoughts of how different my life would be if I could’ve stayed with the man I loved.”
The fire crackled, the silence between us growing heavier. I studied her—sharp cheekbones, the bruises beneath her eyes, the way she curled into herself like she didn’t want to take up space. Something about her was familiar, though I couldn’t place it.
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked. “There’s a spare room down the hallway. It’s not much, but the bed is comfortable.”
Her nod was slow, hesitant. “Thank you. For everything.”
I helped her up and led her to the room, lighting a candle with a flick of magic and showing her where the extra blankets were. She paused at the doorway, staring at me.
“There’s something about you,” she murmured. “Something I can’t name. Like maybe the fates had whispered it to me long ago.”
I stilled, the candlelight flickering between us like it, too, was holding its breath.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She shook her head, brow furrowed like she was trying to solve a riddle with no pieces. “I don’t know. Just… When I saw you the other day, something clicked. Not like recognition. More like… resonance.” Her fingers ghosted over the doorframe. “Like I was meant to end up here, in this house, with you.”
My skin prickled. “Maybe you just needed somewhere safe.”
“Maybe,” she said. But her voice was too soft, too unsure. She glanced at me again, eyes glassy but steady. “But it doesn’t feel like coincidence. It feels like a thread pulled tight, like I followed it here without knowing why.”
My mouth went dry. I should’ve said something. Something comforting. Reassuring.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right.
Something about her had stirred something familiar in me, something older than memory. It wasn’t fear. It was... recognition without name.
“I’m sorry,” she added quickly, like she’d gone too far. “I’m just tired. Ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” I said. “I felt it too.”
That made her pause. Really pause. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else, but she only nodded.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Farris.”
I watched her close the door behind her. The lock clicked into place a second later, not from fear, I didn’t think, but from habit. I returned to the sitting room, let the fire burn low, and sat there in the quiet, every nerve on edge.
I would fucking gut her husband if he came anywhere near us.
