The slip of paper fluttered in Iris's trembling hand.
Run faster. We're closer than you think.
The words seemed to bleed into her skin, poisoning the morning light that moments ago had felt so warm. Her first instinct was panic—run, hide, scream. But when she looked at Luna, standing beside her with that unreadable mask slipping slowly into place, she forced herself to steady.
"Luna," Iris whispered, her throat dry, "what do we do?"
For the first time since they'd met, Luna didn't answer right away. Her silver eyes flicked across the balcony, then to the street below, searching for signs Iris couldn't see.
Finally, Luna reached for the note, crumpled it tightly in her fist, and said in a low, calm voice, "We pretend. We act as if nothing happened. Whoever left this… they're waiting for fear. We won't give them that."
Iris's heart pounded. "But they're watching. They could be anywhere."
"I know," Luna admitted softly. Then she turned, cupping Iris's face with both hands. "But if we let them steal our peace, they win. And I promised—I won't let them take that from us. Not yet."
Her words were steel, but her touch was gentle, grounding. Iris nodded, letting herself breathe again.
They moved through the rest of the morning with deliberate slowness. Breakfast dishes were cleared, laundry folded, the mundane rhythm of chores filling the apartment.
But the note lingered between them like a ghost. Every time Iris glanced at the window, she expected to see eyes staring back. Every creak of the floor above made her skin prickle.
Still, Luna carried herself with effortless grace, as though nothing was amiss. She hummed softly while watering Iris's small collection of succulents, her movements calm, serene.
"You're too good at this," Iris muttered, folding towels. "Pretending everything's fine."
"It's survival," Luna said, placing the watering can down. "I've been doing it all my life."
Iris's chest tightened. "But you don't have to pretend with me."
That made Luna pause. Slowly, she crossed the room, taking the towel from Iris's hands and setting it aside. "You're right. With you… I don't have to."
She kissed her then—soft, reassuring, like a promise that no shadow could erase.
By midday, Iris couldn't stand the tension anymore. "Let's go out," she blurted.
Luna looked up from where she was sketching absentmindedly in Iris's notebook. "Out? After what happened?"
"Yes," Iris insisted. "If we stay trapped in here, hiding, then they've already won. We need… normal. We need us."
Luna hesitated, then her lips curved faintly. "You're reckless."
"You make me reckless," Iris said, tugging her toward the bedroom. "Now come on. Put on something nice. I'm taking you on a real date."
An hour later, they stepped out of the apartment together. Iris wore a flowing sundress, while Luna—ever understated—chose a simple white blouse tucked into black trousers, her silver hair catching sunlight like spun moonlight.
They drew stares as they walked, but neither cared.
Their destination was a cozy café Iris adored, tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore. The air smelled of roasted beans and fresh bread, and sunlight streamed through the windows, scattering across wooden tables.
"Two lattes," Iris told the barista confidently, "and one slice of strawberry shortcake."
"Sweet tooth?" Luna teased, arching a brow.
"Sharing tooth," Iris corrected with a grin. "Half for me, half for you."
They sat by the window, sipping coffee, nibbling at the cake. For a while, the world outside blurred, and it was just them—laughing softly, teasing, letting their fingers linger against each other's across the table.
At one point, Iris leaned closer. "I know you're carrying something heavy, Luna. But right now, let me carry a little of it for you. Please."
Luna's gaze softened. She reached across the table, brushing her thumb against Iris's knuckles. "You already are."
After the café, Iris tugged Luna toward the nearby park. Families strolled, children laughed, pigeons scattered as kids chased them across the grass. It felt safe, ordinary.
But safety, Iris realized too late, was an illusion.
As they passed a fountain, Iris froze. A man in a black cap leaned against the railing, scrolling casually through his phone. His posture was relaxed, his face half-hidden—but something about him prickled her instincts.
"Luna," Iris whispered, tugging at her sleeve.
"I see him," Luna murmured, voice low and sharp.
The man didn't look up. Didn't move. But Iris could feel it—the deliberate stillness, the way his attention was too focused on not being obvious.
"Keep walking," Luna instructed, slipping her hand into Iris's. "Don't look back."
They circled the fountain, took a different path through the park, and only when they reached the crowded main street did Luna allow them to pause.
Iris's breath came quick, panicked. "That was him, wasn't it? The same one from the alley?"
"I don't know," Luna admitted grimly. "But they're closing in."
Back at the apartment, the atmosphere was heavy. Iris paced the living room while Luna stood at the window, watching the street below with a predator's stillness.
Finally, Iris broke. "We can't live like this, Luna. Pretending nothing's wrong, waiting for them to make the next move—it's killing me."
Luna turned, eyes flashing with the silver fire Iris had come to both fear and love. "And what do you want me to do? Run again? Hide you away? I swore I wouldn't drag you into this—"
"You didn't drag me!" Iris's voice cracked. "I chose this. I chose you."
The silence after her words was deafening.
Slowly, Luna crossed the room, stopping just inches away. Her voice softened, almost breaking. "Iris… you don't understand. If they find me, if they know I'm with you—they won't just come for me. They'll come for you too."
"Then let them," Iris whispered fiercely. "Because I'd rather face the shadows with you than sit in the light without you."
Luna's breath hitched. For a moment, her composure shattered, and she pulled Iris into her arms, holding her tightly, as though afraid she might vanish.
"You're too good for me," Luna murmured into her hair.
"Then prove me wrong," Iris whispered back, pressing her lips to Luna's collarbone.
They didn't talk much for the rest of the evening. Instead, they cooked dinner together—simple stir-fried noodles—and ate in silence, their hands brushing occasionally, sparks of comfort in the tension.
Later, they curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over them, the soft glow of a movie flickering across the room. But Iris barely paid attention to the screen. All she could think of was the man by the fountain, the note on the balcony, the inevitability closing in.
Luna must have sensed her turmoil, because she pulled Iris closer, whispering, "As long as I'm breathing, no one will touch you. That's my promise."
Iris tilted her head, meeting her gaze. "And mine is that you'll never face it alone."
They kissed then—not desperate, but steady, anchoring themselves in each other, building a fortress no shadow could breach.
Outside, the stars shimmered faintly through the curtains, whispering again. Iris thought she heard the words more clearly this time:
Hold on.
And she did.