Liora decided that if Adrian was going to continue appearing in her life with the persistence of an extremely handsome natural disaster, then she was going to make him do something normal.
Actually normal.
No discussions about reality.
No questions about whatever was interfering with it.
No staring at clocks waiting for seconds to misbehave.
No existential conversations on park benches that somehow ended with her reconsidering every assumption she had ever made about life, death, and the increasingly complicated man sitting beside her.
Just—
Dinner.
That was the plan.
It lasted eleven minutes.
"You're staring at the clock."
Liora immediately looked away from the small clock hanging behind the counter.
"No, I'm not."
"You were."
"I was looking in that direction."
"For forty-three seconds."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You counted?"
"No."
That somehow made it worse.
They were sitting across from each other in a small restaurant several blocks from campus, tucked into a booth near the window. It wasn't fancy. Liora had deliberately made sure of that.
No reservations.
No expensive menu.
No impossible rooftop overlooking the city.
Just a little family-owned place she'd visited a few times with friends.
There were laminated menus.
A television near the kitchen that nobody was really watching.
Someone's child was coloring three tables away.
A server had already apologized because they were short-staffed.
Normal.
Gloriously, wonderfully normal.
Liora picked up her menu.
"You're not allowed to fix anything."
Adrian looked at her.
"I haven't."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"If our food takes an hour, it takes an hour."
"Yes."
"If they mess up my order, they mess up my order."
"Yes."
"If someone drops something—"
A metallic crash came from the kitchen.
Liora froze.
Adrian didn't.
She slowly lowered her menu.
"That was suspiciously timed."
"I didn't do it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Another clatter came from the kitchen, followed by someone yelling, "I'm fine!"
Liora stared toward the sound.
Nothing happened.
No strange delay.
No duplicated noise.
No impossible correction.
Just someone dropping a pan.
She relaxed.
Then realized what she had done.
Adrian noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"You were waiting for something to happen."
Liora looked back at him.
"…Maybe."
"It didn't."
"I noticed."
A pause.
"That bothers you."
"No."
"Adrian."
"It doesn't bother me."
She studied him.
He looked completely ordinary tonight.
Or at least as ordinary as Adrian ever looked.
There was always something slightly difficult to define about him now. His features were human, his clothes modern, his manner restrained. Yet sometimes she caught herself looking at him and thinking that he resembled someone wearing humanity from memory.
Not incorrectly.
Just—
Carefully.
She had never been able to explain why.
Tonight he wore a dark coat over a simple shirt, his hair falling naturally around his face. There was nothing supernatural about him.
Nothing visibly impossible.
And somehow that made her notice him more.
"You're staring again," he said.
Liora immediately picked up the menu.
"Shut up."
A faint movement touched the corner of his mouth.
She caught it.
Her menu lowered.
"Did you just smile?"
"No."
"You did."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
"You have no evidence."
Liora stared at him.
Then she laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Not nervous laughter.
Not the strange almost-laugh she'd been giving him lately whenever he said something absurdly straightforward.
A real laugh.
Adrian watched her.
And for several seconds, the universe behaved itself.
Eventually their food arrived.
Her order was wrong.
Liora stared at the plate.
Then at the server.
Then at Adrian.
He said nothing.
The server looked horrified. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You ordered the chicken, didn't you?"
"I did."
"I can take this right back."
Liora glanced at Adrian again.
He hadn't moved.
Hadn't corrected anything.
Hadn't reached backward through cause and effect to make the server pick up the right plate five minutes earlier.
Nothing.
Liora smiled.
"It's okay. I'll try this."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
The server thanked her and hurried away.
Adrian looked at her plate.
"You don't like mushrooms."
Liora's fork stopped.
Slowly, she looked up.
"How do you know that?"
A pause.
A very small one.
But she saw it.
"Adrian."
"You've mentioned it."
"When?"
He was silent.
Her eyes narrowed.
"When did I tell you I don't like mushrooms?"
Another pause.
"…You haven't."
Liora put her fork down.
"That is deeply creepy."
"Yes."
"You could at least pretend to be embarrassed."
"I could."
"But you aren't."
"No."
She sighed.
Then pushed one of the mushrooms to the side of the plate.
Adrian watched.
"How many times?"
The question came quietly.
He knew what she meant.
He didn't answer.
Liora looked down at her food.
"How many times have you watched me discover that I don't like something?"
Still nothing.
Her appetite didn't disappear.
But the moment changed.
Not ruined.
Just heavier.
She had understood for some time now that Adrian knew things about her he shouldn't.
Habits.
Preferences.
Reactions.
Little pieces of herself that hadn't been shared with him yet.
She had always treated them as another consequence of what he was doing.
But tonight—
Tonight she wondered about the person who had learned them.
Not the thing manipulating time.
Not the impossible being standing between her and death.
The man.
She looked at him again.
"What did you used to do?"
Adrian's expression shifted slightly.
Not much.
But she noticed.
"Do?"
"Before."
"Before what?"
She gestured vaguely at him.
"This."
"That is imprecise."
"You know exactly what I mean."
"Yes."
"Then stop being difficult."
"I wasn't."
"You're always difficult."
"That seems statistically unlikely."
She stared.
He stared back.
"…I hate talking to you."
"No, you don't."
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
"That was annoyingly confident."
"Yes."
She picked up her drink, mostly so she had something to do with her hands.
"What were you like before all of this?"
Adrian went still.
Not unnaturally.
Not temporally.
Just—
Still.
Liora noticed immediately.
For perhaps the first time since she'd begun understanding what he was, she'd asked something he hadn't prepared to answer.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he had to remember.
"I was human."
"I know that."
"I was ordinary."
"I don't believe you."
"You should."
"Adrian, you became whatever you are now because you decided the laws of reality weren't acceptable."
"Yes."
"That doesn't sound like something an ordinary person does."
"It wasn't."
There was something almost funny about the answer.
Almost.
Liora leaned forward slightly.
"What did you want?"
His gaze settled on her.
"You."
She closed her eyes.
"No."
"That is the answer."
"That is the answer now."
Silence.
Liora opened her eyes again.
"What did Adrian want before everything became about keeping me alive?"
For once—
He didn't answer immediately.
The restaurant continued around them.
Someone laughed near the counter.
Silverware clinked against plates.
A child announced with enormous confidence that dinosaurs could beat sharks because sharks couldn't walk upstairs.
Somewhere outside, a horn sounded.
Life.
Ordinary life.
Adrian looked toward the window.
"I don't remember wanting very much."
Liora's expression softened.
"That's sad."
"It wasn't."
"It sounds sad."
"I was content."
"With what?"
"Small things."
She waited.
Eventually, he continued.
"A place to live. Work that didn't follow me home. Food I liked. Enough money that I didn't need to think about it constantly."
Liora smiled faintly.
"That sounds extremely human."
"I was."
"What kind of work?"
His eyes returned to hers.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm asking about you."
That stopped him.
Liora saw it.
Actually saw it.
Not a distortion.
Not a fracture.
Not time misbehaving.
Adrian simply didn't know what to say.
She leaned back.
"You keep telling me everything revolves around me."
"Yes."
"And that's terrifying."
"I know."
"But if I'm going to keep doing this…"
She hesitated.
Adrian waited.
"…Whatever this is."
"A date."
Her cheeks warmed.
"You waited until now to become specific?"
"Yes."
"Of course you did."
A faint smile threatened again.
She ignored it.
"If I'm going to keep dating you, then I want to know who I'm dating."
There.
She'd said it.
Dating.
Not accidentally this time.
Not as a question.
Adrian became very quiet.
Liora's embarrassment lasted approximately three seconds before stubbornness killed it.
"Well?"
"You're certain?"
"About dating you?"
"Yes."
"No."
He blinked.
Liora smiled.
"But I'm doing it anyway."
Something changed in his expression.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But she was getting very good at seeing him.
"Okay," he said.
She stared.
"Okay?"
"Yes."
"I think that's the most normal response you've ever given me."
"I can change it."
"Don't you dare."
And there it was again.
That tiny almost-smile.
This time she let him pretend she hadn't seen it.
They finished dinner slowly.
He told her pieces.
Not everything.
She didn't expect everything.
Fragments were enough.
He had once worried about bills.
He had owned furniture he hated because replacing it seemed wasteful.
He had preferred walking to driving whenever possible.
He had once spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to keep a houseplant alive despite having absolutely no talent for it.
It died.
He bought another.
That one died too.
Liora laughed harder at that than she should have.
"You fought time itself but lost to a plant?"
"I wasn't fighting time then."
"Excuses."
"It required an unreasonable amount of water."
"You forgot to water it."
"Yes."
"So it required a normal amount of water."
"Apparently."
For twenty minutes, he wasn't impossible.
He wasn't Riven Veyr.
She didn't even know that name.
He wasn't the man standing against forces she couldn't comprehend.
He was Adrian.
A formerly terrible plant owner.
A man who disliked overly sweet coffee.
Someone who used to take long walks because it gave him time to think.
Someone who had once been human enough to complain about rent.
Liora liked him.
That realization came quietly.
No dramatic revelation.
No sudden pounding heart.
She simply sat across from him and understood—
She liked Adrian.
Not merely the safety he represented.
Not the mystery.
Not the impossible certainty with which he protected her.
Him.
That might have frightened her more than everything else.
---
They walked after dinner.
There was no destination.
Liora had decided she liked that about walking with him.
The city was quieter now, storefronts glowing against the evening, traffic moving steadily beyond them.
Adrian didn't alter anything.
She knew because things went wrong.
A pedestrian bumped into someone.
A cyclist nearly missed a light.
Someone dropped a bag and cursed when groceries spilled across the sidewalk.
Normal imperfections.
Normal inconveniences.
Nothing corrected.
Nothing rewritten.
Liora found herself strangely grateful for every one of them.
Then Adrian's hand brushed hers.
She looked down.
Neither moved away.
This time, Liora made the decision.
Her fingers slid between his.
Adrian stopped walking.
She took another step before realizing he hadn't followed.
Liora turned.
He was staring at their hands.
"…Seriously?"
His gaze lifted.
"You stopped."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You did that."
She stared at him.
"I am aware."
"You chose it."
"Yes, Adrian."
He continued looking at her.
Liora felt heat creep into her face.
"Oh my God. Don't make this weird."
"I wasn't."
"You stopped moving."
"I noticed."
"That is making it weird."
He started walking again.
Still holding her hand.
Liora followed.
"…Better."
"Yes."
They made it another half block before she noticed.
A flicker beneath his sleeve.
Liora stopped.
This time Adrian took one additional step before stopping with her.
She tightened her hand around his.
"Wait."
He looked at her.
"Your arm."
"It's fine."
"That wasn't a question."
She stepped closer and carefully pulled his sleeve back.
The cracks were there.
Faint.
Thin lines traced beneath skin that suddenly seemed less like skin and more like a stable agreement reality was reluctantly honoring.
Pale energy leaked between them.
Not blood.
Not light.
Something stranger.
The cracks did not spread.
They did not tremble.
They simply existed.
Liora's expression changed.
"Adrian…"
"It doesn't hurt."
She touched one.
He let her.
The instant her fingertip met it, she felt something impossible.
Not pain.
Not heat.
Time.
A thousand microscopic sensations layered together—the impression of touching his arm now, a second ago, a second from now, and none of them simultaneously.
She pulled back instinctively.
Adrian didn't move.
"…What happened to you?"
"Nothing permanent."
"That is absolutely permanent."
"Yes."
She frowned.
"That contradicts what you just said."
"No. You asked what happened. The damage doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
He became quiet.
Liora looked again at the cracks.
"You're holding them shut."
"Yes."
"With your power?"
"My will."
She looked up.
"What happens when you can't?"
"I can."
"Adrian."
"I can."
There was no arrogance in it.
No bravado.
Just certainty.
"As long as I choose to sustain myself, I remain sustained."
"Indefinitely?"
"Yes."
"And nothing can break that?"
"They can damage the form."
He looked down at the cracks.
"They cannot make me surrender it."
Liora understood.
The cracks weren't evidence that Adrian was slowly dying.
They were evidence that something had successfully struck a being who simply refused to accept that being struck meant he had to fall.
That should have been horrifying.
Instead, it made her sad.
Her fingers returned to his arm.
Gentler this time.
"You really won't stop."
"No."
"I know."
She traced the edge of one crack without touching the energy within.
Then she asked the question that had been sitting somewhere inside her since dinner.
Not the question about his injuries.
Not about the strange forces pushing against him.
Not even about what he had become.
"What happened to the man you used to be?"
Adrian went completely still.
Liora looked up.
For the first time, she wondered if she'd actually hurt him.
Not physically.
Somewhere far more difficult to reach.
His gaze remained on her.
"The man?"
"Adrian."
"I am Adrian."
"I know."
"Then he didn't go anywhere."
She shook her head.
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
Of course he did.
Liora stepped closer.
Their hands were still joined.
Her other hand remained against his fractured arm.
"You talk about who you were like you're describing someone you knew."
Silence.
"You remember what he did. You remember what he liked. You remember stupid houseplants and bad furniture and worrying about money."
"The furniture wasn't bad."
She almost laughed.
Almost.
"Adrian."
"Yes."
"What happened to him?"
His eyes lowered slightly.
For once, there was no immediate answer.
No perfect certainty.
No infuriating simplicity.
Only silence.
Then—
"He met you."
Liora's chest tightened.
"That can't be the whole answer."
"No."
"Then what's the rest?"
Adrian looked at her.
"He lost you."
The city continued around them.
Liora didn't speak.
"He lost you again," Adrian continued. "And again. And again."
His voice remained calm.
That somehow made it worse.
"He learned why. He learned how. He learned which rules prevented him from changing it."
The cracks along his arm glowed faintly.
"So he changed himself until those rules stopped applying."
Liora's fingers tightened around his hand.
"And Riven?"
The name wasn't hers to know.
Not yet.
So Adrian merely looked at her.
Liora frowned slightly, sensing something unsaid but unable to give it shape.
"You became something else."
"Yes."
"For me."
"Yes."
She hated how easily he said it.
Loved it too, somewhere she wasn't ready to examine.
"And Adrian?"
A pause.
Then he squeezed her hand.
Barely.
The first time he had initiated it.
"Still here."
Liora stared at him.
Then down at their joined hands.
Something warm and painful settled behind her ribs.
"Good."
One word.
Nothing cosmic.
Nothing profound.
But Adrian looked at her as though she'd said something no universe had ever managed to give him.
Liora stepped closer.
She hesitated only once.
Then rested her forehead lightly against his chest.
Adrian froze.
Again.
She sighed.
"You really are terrible at this."
"Yes."
His free hand lifted.
Stopped.
Liora waited.
He could have calculated exactly where to place it.
Could have searched countless possibilities for the perfect gesture.
Could have found the version of this moment in which she reacted exactly as he wanted.
He didn't.
His hand settled awkwardly, carefully, against her back.
Liora smiled.
It wasn't perfect.
That was why she loved the moment.
Not him.
Not yet.
She wasn't ready for that word.
But the moment?
Yes.
She could love that.
The world shifted faintly around them.
Somewhere beyond everything she understood, pressure gathered.
Something strained against the rules Adrian had broken.
The cracks along his arm brightened.
Liora felt him notice.
He didn't move.
"Is something happening?" she whispered.
"Yes."
"Do we need to go?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She remained where she was.
After a few seconds, the distortion faded.
Not because the opposition had stopped.
Because Adrian had refused to let it matter here.
Liora closed her eyes.
"Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"I liked tonight."
A pause.
"So did I."
She smiled against him.
"That was almost normal."
"I can do worse next time."
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
And somewhere outside their world, something ancient and powerful prepared another way to kill Riven Veyr.
But here—
For one quiet moment—
There was only Adrian.
And she was holding his hand.
[End of Chapter 20]