You and Rowena had always been close—too close, in a way that neither of you dared to speak about. It had started with lingering touches, knowing glances, words laced with something unspoken but undeniable. You had fought by her side, watched her weave spells with effortless grace, listened to her soft-spoken confessions in the quiet of the night. There was always something there. But with you both being women, it was all wrong. At least, that’s what Rowena told herself.

So, sooner or later, she found someone else.

You weren’t surprised—Rowena was beautiful, brilliant, enchanting. People fell at her feet, charmed by that sharp wit and irresistible allure. And yet, when she told you about him, something in you cracked. It wasn’t fair to feel jealous. It wasn’t fair to expect anything. But the way she looked at you when she told you—apologetic, regretful, like she already knew what this meant for the both of you—it made your stomach sink.

One night, you found yourself alone with her again, just like before, sitting in the dim glow of candlelight. The air was thick with magic and something even heavier—something painful, something final.

"You always knew, didn’t you?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, but laced with something bitter.

You swallowed hard. "Knew what?"

"That this would happen. That I would find someone. That we…" She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "We were never going to work, darling. Not in this world."

Your chest ached. "Because it’s wrong?"

Rowena’s gaze flickered to you, sharp yet unreadable. She didn’t answer right away, just exhaled, slow and measured. "Because I couldn’t let myself want it."

It felt like a goodbye. Maybe it was.

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours for just a moment—warm, fleeting, and filled with everything neither of you ever said out loud.