The light is different tonight..aware.
Zane's penthouse feels larger than usual.
Windows open.
City humming below.
Half-packed suitcase near the couch.
He told me he wasn't going anywhere.
He said it like a fact.
Like gravity.
Like something that didn't need to be questioned.
And I believed him.
I still do.
That's the dangerous part.
He's in the kitchen now, leaning against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone.
Contract emails.
Schedules.
Train times.
Ten hours away.
It sounds abstract when you say it out loud.
Ten hours.
Not impossible.
Not permanent.
Just far enough to change things.
"Hey," he says, glancing up.
I smile automatically.
"I'm still here."
"I know."
He says it like reassurance.
I nod like I don't need it.
We don't talk about the year.
It hangs between us anyway.
One year.
Long enough for a career to explode.
Long enough for someone to become unrecognizable.
Long enough to get used to new skylines.
I don't ask:
Will you come back?
Because I know the answer he would give.
And I know the answer he doesn't have.
-
Later, the city glows amber.
We sit on the balcony floor with takeout cartons between us.
He's talking about opportunity.
Momentum.
How this could change everything.
I listen.
I am proud of him.
That part is real.
When he looks at me, there's a flicker of something softer.
"Hey," he says quietly.
"I'm not leaving you."
I nod.
"I know."
I do.
That's not what scares me.
We don't sleep much.
Not because we're dramatic.
Because neither of us wants to miss the last few hours.
The room is dark except for the city light bleeding through the curtains.
I rest my head against his shoulder.
Not because I feel small.
Because I want to remember the shape of him.
His breathing evens out eventually.
Mine doesn't.
I stare at the ceiling.
And for a second—
I almost say it.
Stay.
But that wouldn't be fair.
And I don't want love that stays out of guilt.
The train station is colder than it should be.
Too early for the sun to commit.
People move with purpose.
Announcements echo overhead.
He keeps one hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.
The other finds mine easily.
Like muscle memory.
"This is good," he says.
"For both of us."
I nod again.
"I know."
We stand there a little too long.
Not dramatic.
Just… suspended.
The sky begins shifting.
Soft gold at the edges.
He leans down.
Kisses me.
Steady.
Like he's sealing something in place.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine.
"I'll call you tonight."
"Okay."
He squeezes my hand once.
Then steps back.
And that's it.
No scene.
No tears.
Just the sound of wheels rolling over platform concrete.
The train doors close.
He finds a window seat.
I lift my hand.
He mirrors it.
The train begins to move.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then gone.
The platform empties quickly.
People disperse.
Morning takes over.
I stand there a moment longer than necessary.
It feels wrong to walk away immediately.
Like the goodbye needs time to settle.
I don't say it out loud.
But the thought presses against my ribs anyway.
This feels like the beginning of something.
Or the end.
Maybe both.
He's not known for settling.
He's known for becoming.
And the world just handed him something bigger.
I don't know if Aetheridge will be big enough after that.
I don't know if I will.
I turn toward the exit.
The city looks the same.
The light is the same.
Warm.
Late morning.
Ordinary.
But something has shifted.
I let him go.
Not because I want to lose him.
Because I don't want to hold him in place.
And somehow—
That hurts more.