Every step away from her feels like walking through water. Heavy. Wrong.
I make it to the corridor before I have to stop and press my hand against the wall.
This is what she asked for.
I repeat it like a prayer.
I rounda corner near the library, and there she is.
Twenty feet of marble and shadow between us. She's changed since the briefing, wearing something softer now, a gray sweaterthat looks like it would be warm beneath my hands. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, dark waves catching the low light.
She sees me. Stops.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
I could close the distance. Could find something to say, some excuse to hear her voice. The wanting is a physical thing, pulling at my chest, urging me forward.
I nod instead. A small inclination of my head, formal and distant.
Then I turn down a different corridor and walk away.
It takes everything I have.
I haven't been feeding properly.
The hunger is there, a persistent ache beneath my ribs, but it feels muted compared to the other ache that's consumed me. I'm sitting in my study, staring at reports I've already read three times, when the door opens without a knock.
Marcellus takes one look at me and stops.
"You look like hell."
"So I've been told."
"Have you fed? Properly?"
The silence answers for him.
"Maximus." He crosses the room and drops into the chair across from my desk. "She told you to give her space. Not to starve yourself into uselessness."
"I'm giving her what she asked for."
"Are you?" He leans forward. "There's a difference between respecting her boundaries and disappearing entirely. One is what she asked for. The other is avoidance."
"I don't know where the line is."
"Then figure it out. You can be present without being pushy. Available without being demanding." He pauses. "You credited her in the briefing. That was good. But one gesture doesn't rebuild trust. You need consistency. Night after night, choice after choice."
"And if it's not enough?"
"Then you accept that and let her go." His voice softens slightly. "But you're not there yet. She asked for space, not for you to vanish. There's still something worth fighting for."
He stands.
"Feed. And stop hiding in your study." He pauses at the threshold. "You told her you'd prove yourself with actions. Hard to do that when she never sees you."
Then he's gone, and I'm alone with the silence.
He's right. Hiding isn't proving anything. It's just another form of control, deciding for her that she's better off without my presence instead of letting her make that choice herself.
