Alessia felt her lips tremble slightly as she returned his smile.
Inside her chest, hope and fear tangled together like deep roots awakening after centuries of sleep.
How am I daring to dream of this?
A home. With him… a life that no longer belongs to me, she thought, her gaze drifting toward the horizon beyond the windshield.
Her heart no longer beat the way it once had, and yet, in that moment, she could have sworn she felt a faint echo of warmth rise from within—quiet, almost human.
She didn't answer with words.
She only smiled softly, while an old thought surfaced in her mind like a forgotten prayer:
Who said a vampire cannot long for a home?
When they reached Liam Thomas's apartment, he went up alone to gather a few things.
Alessia remained in the car, staring out the window, letting her thoughts wrap around her like the city fog.
She leaned slightly toward the rearview mirror… yet her reflection did not fully return.
Not complete absence, but a vague shadow—an essence refusing to be captured by glass.
—What will you choose, Anna Viktorie?
Lie… or love? —she whispered to herself.
The image of Liam Thomas asleep in her arms returned to her mind—
the faint crease between his eyebrows when he dreamed,
the warmth of his breathing against her chest,
and that old memory—
another human, another lifetime,
who once looked at her the same way.
That one died.
Will I repeat that story?
Or will I protect him this time—no matter the cost?
The dilemma was ancient,
but last night, held in his arms,
it felt painfully real.
Love demanded truth.
The shadows of her existence demanded silence.
…
The echo inside Liam Thomas's apartment felt louder than ever—not in sound, but in meaning.
Every step across the bare floor stirred memories, as though the walls themselves mourned his departure.
He carried a simple cardboard box, humble in appearance, yet filled with an entire universe of moments.
Photographs.
Letters.
A worn scarf his mother once lent him.
A notebook full of thoughts he never voiced.
And a small ceramic wolf with a broken tail.
He had bought it at a street market the day he promised himself not to give up, after losing his father.
There was also the ticket from his first concert, creased and faded, and a handwritten note from his ex-girlfriend that read:
Keep shining, even when no one sees you.
Each object watched him in silence—
a quiet farewell to who he had been.
It's been a month since Alessia asked me to move in… and here I am, handing over the keys to the place that held my whole life, he thought.
A young, courteous real estate agent guided the final paperwork.
Her voice sounded distant, like someone speaking underwater.
Each signature felt like sealing a chapter shut.
He handed over the keys with a mixture of relief and vertigo.
The unknown is not always a threat.
Sometimes, it is an invitation.
Alessia had done the same.
But her farewell was not like his.
The night before leaving her apartment, she sat for hours on the windowsill, watching the city's shifting shadows.
Those walls had sheltered her—yes—
but they had also imprisoned her.
There she had healed, mourned in silence, remembered what no one else alive could remember.
Closing the door felt like removing a piece of herself.
There is no turning back, she told herself.
And yet the emptiness left behind was deeper than any darkness.
No ceremonies.
No explanations.
Just a quiet shedding of an old skin.
Both of them chose to let go.
Both chose to begin again—
without yet knowing the price.
The car moved along the road as a clear sky opened above the outskirts of Vancouver.
Behind them: city lights, sirens, concrete loneliness.
Ahead: pine-scented air, tall trees, open quiet spaces.
—I never imagined my life would change like this… —Liam Thomas murmured, one hand on the wheel, the other intertwined with hers.
Alessia turned to him, her smile calm, her gaze tender.
—Do you regret it?
—No.
It just feels unreal.
That I could be this happy.
Silence followed—warm, comfortable.
No need for words.
The road led into a residential neighborhood of elegant homes—
sloping roofs, old trees, wide porches, gardens washed in morning light.
Both carried unspoken questions.
He feared moving too fast.
She feared being discovered.
But even deeper, two unspoken truths rose:
If we take this step, he may want a family…
I must restore my fertility.
And I know what that will cost.
—Alessia.
If we share a home, then one day…
I will want to marry her.
—Liam Thomas.
When they arrived, a real estate agent was already waiting in front of a white-fronted house with dark wood details and large windows that seemed to invite the soul to stay.