The library steps were cold beneath Iman's fingers as sat, waiting. She didn't know for what - only that something in her chest felt unfinished.
Then she felt it again. That pressure in the air. That stillness that only came when he was near.
Lucien.
He didn't speak as he approached. Just stood beside her, hands in his coat pockets, eyes on the horizon like he was watching something only he could see.
Iman didn't look at him. She didn't need to.
"You left," she said quietly.
"I had to," he replied. "You saw too much."
"I didn't see enough."
Silence stretched between them, taut and trembling. Then - slowly, cautiously - Lucien sat beside her. His hand brushed hers. Not by accident.
She didn't pull away.
Their fingers touched. Then curled. Then held.
And in that moment, the world shifted.
Not with thunder. Not with light. But with a quiet certainly that neither of them could explain.
"What is this?" she whispered.
Lucien's voice was barely audible. "A bond. One I didn't mean to form."
"But you did."
He nodded. "And now I can't let go."