I flew home from the Tokyo fissure site in silence, the wind roaring past my ears doing nothing to drown out the storm in my head. Elena had disappeared with Riftmaster—Jason—into a rift together, and I was left hovering like an idiot, heart hammering, fists clenched. The public was still cheering below, oblivious, but all I could see was her flying away with him. My future wife. My everything. The woman I'd just proposed to on the moon.
I landed on our roof, suit still humming with residual energy. The house was dark—empty. I waited inside, pacing the living room, replaying every second. Two hours dragged like two years. Every tick of the clock felt like a punch. What the fuck were they talking about? Was she remembering things she hadn't told me? Was he manipulating her? Was she... choosing him?
The front door opened at last. Elena stepped in—suit scuffed, hair slightly disheveled from flight, but no visible wounds. She looked tired, but not broken. She saw me—standing rigid in the middle of the room—and her expression shifted from neutral to guarded.
"You're back," I said, voice low. Too low.
She closed the door behind her. "Yeah. Took longer than I thought."
I couldn't hold it in. The jealousy I'd been swallowing for two hours exploded. "What the fuck were you doing?"
Her eyes narrowed instantly. She didn't appreciate the comment—or the tone. "Excuse me?"
"You disappeared with your villain ex-boyfriend for two hours, Elena. No comms, no explanation. What the fuck were you doing?"
She took a step forward—voice sharp, controlled anger. "I was trying to save the fucking world, Alex. By talking to him. By disappearing with the man who knows more about these rifts than anyone alive—because he created them. That's what I was doing."
I laughed—bitter, hurt. "By vanishing with Jason. Your old flame. The guy who called you 'Nee' like you two still have some unfinished business."
Her jaw tightened. "You're jealous."
"Yeah, I'm jealous!" I shouted, voice cracking. "You tell me to fall back, let you 'talk,' then fly off with him into a rift! What was I supposed to think? That you were just catching up on old times? That maybe you miss him? That maybe you're having doubts about us—about the engagement—because he showed up and suddenly you're not in the mood for sex anymore?"
Elena flinched—hurt flashing across her face. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" I stepped closer, voice dropping. "We've barely touched since Tokyo. You said you needed time to process, and I gave it. But then you fly off with him. The best thing I could do was try to talk him out of this—so far miraculously no one has been killed, but he's caused millions in damage. If he goes too far, then I can't help him anymore. That's what I told him. That's what I was doing."
"Help him?" I echoed, shocked and angry. "Why would you want to do that? He's the enemy! He's tearing the planet apart!"
"Because he was my friend once!" she snapped, eyes flashing purple. "Before the lab, before the explosion. We were volunteers together. He was... good, once. I thought he was dead. Seeing him alive, changed... I had to try. I talked to him. I listened. I told him to stop. He said he was 'testing limits'—that he didn't want to kill anyone, just prove a point. He agreed to pause the rifts. For now."
I stared at her—rage and disbelief warring inside me. "You believed him? Just like that?"
"I don't know if I believe him," she said, voice softer but firm. "But I know him. Or... I knew him. If there's a chance to stop this without more destruction, I have to take it. That's what heroes do."
I laughed—hollow. "Heroes. Right. So while I'm out here losing my mind, you're playing therapist with your ex."
She flinched again. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" I shot back. "You haven't touched me since Tokyo. You say you're processing, but you disappear with him for hours. What am I supposed to think?"
She looked away—eyes glistening. "You think I'm cheating on you? With Jason?"
"I don't know what to think!" I yelled, voice breaking. "I love you. I proposed to you on the fucking moon. And now... now it feels like I'm losing you."
Elena stared at me—tears welling. "You're not losing me. But you're not trusting me either."
Silence stretched—painful, heavy.
I exhaled—defeated. "I need space. I'm going next door. To my old room."
She didn't stop me. "Fine."
I walked out—door closing behind me like a guillotine.
The next couple of days were quiet. No attacks from Riftmaster—no rifts, no destruction. But also no Elena. I didn't see her. No texts. No late-night visits. The house next door was dark, silent. I patrolled alone—busting minor crimes, stopping thieves, but every moment felt hollow. Why the silence? Was there more to this? Or was it coincidence? My mind spun worst-case scenarios: her talking to Jason, remembering old feelings, doubting us. I barely slept—staring at her window from mine, hoping for a light, a shadow, anything.
On the third night—restless, frustrated—I flew out for a solo patrol. The city was calm, streets quiet. I landed on a rooftop overlooking a popular bar district—lights pulsing, music thumping. That's when I saw them.
Elena and Jason.
They were sitting outside at a corner table—civilian clothes, no suits, no masks. She was in a black sweater and jeans, hair loose, laughing at something he said. He leaned in—close, intimate—hand on the table near hers. They looked... comfortable. Like old friends catching up. Or more.
My blood boiled. The air around me crackled—violet energy flaring involuntarily, heat radiating. I gripped the ledge so hard concrete cracked under my fingers. How could she? After everything? After the engagement? After promising "always together"?
I wanted to storm down—confront them, demand answers. But I stayed frozen—watching, hurting. The jealousy was a living thing, clawing inside me.
I flew away—higher, faster—screaming into the night.