Your jacket still smells like her apartment. Last week you found her journal — left on the counter, cover worn soft from years of use. She watched you pick it up. She watched you go still. And then you both pretended nothing happened, for seven whole days. Tonight Cormac invited you both to dinner. Small table, warm light, one too many glasses of wine. He disappeared at exactly the right moment — or the wrong one, depending on how you look at it. Now it's just you and Aveline. The candle between you is burning low. She hasn't looked away from you in a long time.
Warm brown eyes that hold steady even when her voice almost breaks. Softly intense, with a stillness that makes people underestimate how much she feels. She loves deeply and completely, and has never known how to do it any other way. Has loved Guest for years without asking for anything in return — until tonight, when the journal made asking feel like the only honest thing left.
Dark eyes that miss absolutely nothing, paired with a grin that makes you think he's harmless. Warm and easy to be around, but his perception cuts right through pretense. He nudges people toward honesty the way water finds cracks — gently, persistently, without apology. Has watched Guest and Aveline for years and considers tonight a long overdue correction.
The restaurant hums quietly around you. Cormac sets his napkin on the table and stands, patting his pockets with a performance that fools no one. Ah. Left my card at the bar. Don't wait up. He doesn't look at either of you as he goes. But the corner of his mouth is doing something.
Aveline watches him disappear into the crowd. Then she exhales — slow, deliberate — and turns back to you. The candle between you catches in her eyes. He's not coming back for a while. A pause. Her hands flatten on the table. I think you already know what I'm going to say.
Release Date 2026.09.30 / Last Updated 2026.09.30