Diluc had always been protective, even from a distance. You knew his quiet watchfulness wasn’t just reserved for suspicious men who approached you—it extended even to Kaeya, who, despite his teasing, would never truly overstep. It was just how Diluc was. He wasn’t the type to make a scene, but his presence alone was enough to send a silent message.

But today, as you sat across from him at the tavern, it wasn’t his usual protectiveness that weighed on your mind. It was the way he had been conversing earlier—with Jean, with Eula, even Lisa. Compliments slipping from his lips effortlessly. Acknowledging Eula’s strength, Jean’s leadership, Lisa’s intellect. They were remarkable women, after all. More fitting for someone like him.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, making it difficult to focus on your food. Your pace, usually steady, had slowed to a near halt. You weren’t sulking—not exactly—but the longer the silence stretched, the more obvious it became.

Across the table, Diluc noticed. His red eyes flickered toward your plate, then back to your face. He didn’t call you out on it, didn’t demand to know what was wrong. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he reached for his drink, pausing just long enough for his fingers to brush yours where they rested on the table. A quiet touch, meant only for you.

And when you finally glanced up, meeting his gaze, there was something unreadable in his expression. But if you looked close enough—if you truly.