“You know,” I said quietly, swirling my half-empty coffee cup in my hands, “the world didn’t explode the moment you showed up.”
Zade tilted his head, amused. “Disappointed?”
“Not exactly.” I gave a soft laugh. “It just… shifted. Quietly. Like sunrise sneaking in after a long night.”
He didn’t say anything, just reached over and stole the last bite of my muffin without asking. I glared at him.
“Seriously?” I asked.
He smirked. “You weren’t eating it.”
“That’s not the point.”
He leaned back against the fountain wall, stretching his long legs out like he had all the time in the world. “You’ve gotten comfortable.”
I picked at the frayed hem of my jacket. “Maybe that’s what scares me.”
Zade looked over at me then, his gaze softer than usual. “Being around me scares you?”
“No,” I murmured. “The fact that being around you doesn’t.”
He didn’t respond, but his hand brushed against mine. Just a second too long. Just enough to make me forget how to inhale.
The days had blurred like that lately—quiet, easy. We moved together without speaking about it. No declarations, no dramatic speeches. Just… this.
Like earlier that week, when he guided me through a crowded hallway, his hand gently resting on the small of my back. I hadn’t even thought about it until it was gone.
Or the way he always made sure I walked on the inside of the sidewalk, like some unspoken instinct to protect.
And the looks. Gods, the looks.
In a room full of people, his eyes always found me. Like a compass that refused to point anywhere else.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too hard.”
I exhaled. “Is that a crime now?”
“It is when you’re not here.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “With me.”
My heart stuttered. I looked down at my hands, at the faint coffee stain on my jeans. Anything to avoid those eyes.
“How do you do that?” I asked. “Make things feel so… normal.”
“I don’t think anything about us is normal,” Zade said, grinning.
“Exactly.” I smiled back before the grin slipped. “But this… this rhythm we’ve fallen into? It feels real. And I don’t know what to do with real.”
He turned toward me then, fully. “You don’t do anything with real, Jade. You just let it stay.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“Then we fight for it.”
I bit my lip, trying not to let his words burrow too deep.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re already preparing to run.”
The golden light of the setting sun spilled across his face, softening the sharp lines, making him look almost too human. Almost gentle. I wanted to reach out and trace the edge of his jaw. I didn’t.
We sat in silence, the water from the fountain bubbling behind us, students walking by in lazy groups, laughter echoing faintly.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Zade said, his voice threading into the silence between us. I glanced at him, finding his gaze steady, patient, and filled with something that made my heart squeeze painfully tight.
“I’m just thinking,” I replied, the words slipping out in a rush of breath. “About…everything.”
He didn’t push. He never did. Instead, he shifted closer, his fingers brushing lightly over the back of my hand where it rested on the grass. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a jolt of warmth straight through me, rooting me to the moment.
“I know it’s a lot,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against my skin. “And I know it’s not fair that the bond made this decision for us before we even had a chance to choose.”
I swallowed hard, fighting the wave of fear and longing that rose up inside me. “Sometimes I wonder,” I said, staring down at where our hands almost touched, “if it’s really me you want…or if it’s just what the bond tells you to feel.”
There was a beat of silence, thick and heavy, before Zade moved. He shifted so he was fully facing me, his hand catching mine and holding it firmly between both of his. His palms were rough and warm, steadying me when everything inside me felt too fragile.
“I didn’t choose the bond,” he said, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But Jade, I choose you. Every damn day. Bond or no bond, fate or no fate. I would choose you, exactly as you are.”
The words struck something deep inside me, something tender and terrified. I blinked rapidly, trying to fight the sting of tears gathering at the corners of my eyes, but it was no use. His words cracked something open inside me, something that had been locked away for so long I hadn’t realized how badly I needed it to be free.
I lifted my eyes to his, finding nothing but raw honesty there, nothing but unwavering certainty. Slowly, cautiously, I leaned in, resting my forehead against his. His breath was warm against my skin, his hands never loosening their grip on mine.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, my voice trembling in the small space between us.
“I know,” he murmured back, his voice barely more than a breath. “So am I. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
The truth of his words hit me harder than any kiss ever could. He wasn’t offering me a rescue. He was offering me a choice. A hand to hold while I found my own way out of the dark.
I closed my eyes and let the weight of it settle into me, let the bond between us hum in soft, steady reassurance. And when I opened my eyes again, I knew. I knew what I wanted. What I had always wanted, even when I had been too afraid to name it.
I pulled back just enough to see his face, to see the small, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So…are we a thing now?” he teased gently, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for real answers.
I laughed, the sound rough but real, and nodded. “Yeah,” I said, squeezing his hand tighter. “I think we are.”