He loosened his grip.
Then he stepped back, just enough to leave a small, aching space between them.
The change was immediate.
Eiravyne reached out at once, panic flaring as she felt him slipping away.
Her fingers closed around his hands, holding on..
"Urag…" she said, breath unsteady. "What are you talking about…?"
He didn't pull free.
Instead, he turned her hold deliberately, guiding her hands until he was holding hers.
His gaze dropped to their joined hands.
"Because of me," he said quietly, "you went through all of that."
His grip tightened with contained force.
"And I will never forgive myself for it."
He lifted his eyes to hers then, red-rimmed .
"Not ever."
Eiravyne froze.
Not because of his words, but because of how he said them.
Because suddenly, everything aligned.
The distance.
The silence.
The way he hadn't come to her once.
Her breath caught.
"…You think," she said slowly, "that this is your fault."
Urag didn't answer.
