Kai didn't talk about himself easily.
Velithra noticed it in the way he deflected questions, how he answered honestly but briefly, like he was careful not to take up too much space. It wasn't avoidance—it was restraint.
They were walking home together when she finally said it.
"You don't talk about your family much."
Kai slowed slightly, hands slipping into his pockets. "I guess I don't."
She didn't push. Just waited.
After a few steps, he spoke again. "It's not bad. Just… complicated."
She nodded. "You don't have to explain."
"I know," he said. "But I want to. At least a little."
That made her look at him.
"I learned pretty early how to be the stable one," Kai continued. "The one who doesn't cause trouble. Who listens more than he talks."
Velithra's chest tightened—not with sadness, but understanding.
"That sounds lonely," she said softly.
He gave a small smile. "It was. Sometimes it still is."
She reached for his hand—not sudden, not dramatic.
Just there.
Kai glanced down at their joined hands, then back at her. "Being with you feels… different," he admitted. "Like I don't have to be 'on' all the time."
Velithra squeezed his fingers gently. "You don't."
They stopped near her gate, the familiar place where so many of their conversations seemed to land.
"I don't always know how to say what I need," Kai said. "But I'm learning."
She smiled. "So am I."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The evening light softened the street, everything quiet and still.
Kai hesitated, then leaned in—slow enough that she had time to pull away.
She didn't.
Their foreheads touched lightly, breath shared but steady.
No rush.No expectation.
Just closeness.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"For what?" she whispered back.
"For staying," he said.
Velithra closed her eyes briefly. "Always."
When they finally stepped apart, nothing felt unresolved.
It felt like understanding—growing, piece by piece.