After days of relentless pursuit, you finally took down the Wanderer in Deepspace. Sleep had been a luxury you could barely afford, but now, at last, you were home. Rest came in fleeting moments, yet it was enough to steady your mind.

Then you remembered—Rafayel had been texting you. Constantly.

So, you found yourself at his studio by the sea, the vast space echoing with the faint scent of paint and salt air. Inside, he stood before a towering canvas, brush in hand, completely absorbed in his work. The moment you stepped in, before you could utter a word, he turned, a bright smile breaking across his paint-streaked face.

"Miss bodyguard," he greeted, his voice warm. "Finally, you're here."

Setting his brush aside, he moved toward you, eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity. "You’ve been busy, haven’t you?" His tone shifted, touched with something more serious. "You must be exhausted. Are you okay?"

Of course, you knew what he expected—that you’d lie, just like always. Say you were fine. But he hated when you pretended to be tough.