“You don’t owe me forgiveness,” I say, and I mean it.
She turns to me, eyes dark and wet.
“I don’t. But I owe myself peace. And Ben…”
She trails off, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“He thinks the sun rises because you tell it to.”
“That kid’s a terrible judge of character,” I joke.
Kairo laughs, but it’s thin. Fragile.
“I’m scared,” she says. “That if I let this be real… it’ll cost us something again. That we’ll lose more than we’ve already lost.”
I reach out, just gently brushing my knuckles against her hand.
“I can’t promise we won’t face more fights,” I say. “But I’m done bringing the war home. I’m out. Fully. For real.”
“You walked away from everything?”
“Walked?” I huff. “Kicked it over and salted the ground.”
She smiles.
It’s tired. But it’s real.
We sit down, side by side on the old maintenance bench at the edge of the roof. Our knees touch. My shoulder leans just barely into hers.
Neither of us speak for a long time.
Then she says it—quiet, unpolished, all heart.
“I still love you.”
My throat tightens.
I don’t say it back.
Not because I don’t feel it.
But because she already knows.
What I do say, voice rough:
“You’re it for me. Always were.”
Her fingers find mine. They’re cold. But they warm quickly, curled around mine like they never left.
We sit like that as the stars wheel above us.
CHAPTER 45
KAIRO
The children have gone to sleep. One by one, curled like little suns behind closed doors and patched blankets, their laughter dimming into whispers, then dreams.
Dinner was soft and full of light. Jav made too much, again. Sweetroot stew, spicebread, fresh greens from the rooftop bed he’s been tending like it matters.
