“I don’t know,” I whispered.
A lie.
And not a lie.
Kieran stepped toward me—hands lifting like he wanted to steady me—
and then he froze.
He’d seen me flinch.
His hands dropped immediately, too fast to be anything but instinct.
“Kieran,” I whispered. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he rasped.
“Like I’m… wrong.”
Something shuttered behind his eyes. Not coldness—something heavier.
“I’m just… trying to understand,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” he said immediately — and he meant it. “Seph, I’m going to figure this out, ok? Don’t worry about it.”
But I didn’t hear the nuance.
All I heard was him breathing too hard.
All I saw was his hands shaking.
All I felt was the distance.
He reached into his jacket — slower this time, careful like he thought I might break — and set the folded song on the table.
“I’ll leave it for when you feel up to it.”
He didn’t touch me again.
He didn’t risk it.
He nodded once—sharp, controlled—turned—
—and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And the emptiness inside me pulsed again.
Because in that moment, with my own power humming like a warning under my skin,
it felt like I’d lost Kieran.
Not forever.
Not really.
