Adrian's return was unannounced.
Elara was in a meeting when she heard his voice from the hallway—calm, familiar, unmistakable. Her breath caught, her focus slipping instantly. She told herself not to look. She looked anyway.
He stood there, older somehow, as though distance had carved something sharper into him. Their eyes met, and the air shifted. No applause. No dramatic gestures. Just two people standing face-to-face with everything they hadn't resolved.
They spoke later, alone.
"I didn't come back to fix things," Adrian said quietly. "I came back because leaving didn't."
Elara folded her arms, not defensively, but to steady herself. "You always leave when things get complicated."
"And you stay silent when you're afraid," he replied gently. "We both do damage."
The honesty disarmed her.
"I don't want to be an afterthought," she said. "Or a possibility you consider when it's convenient."
"You're not," Adrian said immediately. "You're the choice I didn't have the courage to make before."
This time, Elara didn't retreat. She didn't rush either. Love, she had learned, deserved intention—not impulse.