Elara did not see Kael for three days.
It shouldn't have mattered. He was only an instructor. Only the villain everyone warned her about. Only a man who had told her—twice—to stay away.
And yet his absence felt louder than his presence ever had.
Whispers followed her through the academy halls.
"They say he nearly lost control last night."
"I heard he was summoned by the council."
"Anyone seen with him never ends well."
Elara kept her head down, pretending not to hear, pretending her chest didn't tighten every time his name was spoken like a curse.
On the fourth day, she saw him again.
He stood at the far end of the training grounds, cloaked in darkness even beneath the sun. He looked unchanged—cold, distant, untouchable—but Elara noticed what no one else did.
He didn't look at her.
Not once.
The realization hurt more than she expected.
"Pairs," the master instructor called. "For combat drills."
Students shuffled, laughing nervously, finding familiar faces. Elara stood still, unsure—until the air shifted.
"Not you."
Kael's voice.
Her heart jumped traitorously as he stepped forward, eyes fixed anywhere but on her face. "You'll train alone."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Elara swallowed. "Why?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Because I said so."
That was it. No explanation. No glance. Nothing.
The distance between them felt deliberate. Punishing.
As the session continued, Elara trained in silence, painfully aware of him at the edge of her vision. Every time she stumbled, she felt his attention sharpen—only for him to look away again the moment she steadied herself.
He was watching.
Just not openly.
Later, as dusk bled into night, Elara found herself back at the ancient tree—the place where everything had shifted. She told herself she was only walking. Only thinking.
She lied.
"You shouldn't keep coming here."
Kael's voice came from the shadows.
She didn't turn. "You shouldn't keep saving me and pretending I don't exist."
Silence.
When he stepped beside her, he kept a careful distance—close enough that she could feel him, far enough that he wouldn't brush her sleeve.
"That wasn't saving," he said. "That was damage control."
"For whom?"
"For you."
Elara finally faced him. "You're punishing me."
His eyes flickered—just once. "I'm protecting you."
"By pushing me away?"
"Yes."
The word fell heavy between them.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle," she said quietly.
"I do," Kael replied, voice tight, "when what I am will destroy you."
The pain in his restraint was unmistakable. It hurt more than anger would have.
"I don't believe you're a monster," Elara said.
"That's the problem."
He turned to leave.
Impulsively, recklessly, Elara reached out—then stopped herself inches from his arm.
The space between them burned.
"Kael," she whispered.
He froze.
Slowly, he looked back at her—not with longing, not with softness—but with something raw and dangerous.
"If you keep saying my name like that," he said hoarsely, "I will forget why I'm staying away."
Her throat tightened. "Then don't forget."
His hand clenched at his side.
For one unbearable moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.
Then Kael stepped back—farther than before.
"I am not the hero of this story," he said. "And loving villains never ends well."
He vanished into the dark, leaving Elara alone beneath the tree, heart aching with a truth she could no longer deny.
Some distances weren't created by fear.
They were created by love that knew it was dangerous—and stayed away anyway.