The safehouse sat beneath a canopy of wet leaves, the air outside thick with pine and thunder residue.Inside, silence wasn’t empty.It was earned.Aria moved barefoot through the main room, wearing only one of Cassian’s shirts threadbare cotton, buttons missing, sleeves rolled past the elbows. She trailed her fingers over the kitchen counter, still sticky with shared cider and fingerprints.Cassian stood at the stove, hair damp from a recent rinse, shirtless, track pants low on his hips. The only sound was the crackle of eggs in butter and the rhythmic thud of rain against the windows.Aria leaned on the counter, chin in her hand, watching him.“You cook when you’re trying not to solve something,” she said.He cracked a second egg. “I cook when I want to feel like something will survive.”She tilted her head. “You think we won’t?”His back tensed, then relaxed. “I think we’ve spent so long surviving that we forgot what just being looks like.”Aria stepped around the counter, moved be
Last Updated : 2025-06-27 Read more