Zephran had been your husband long before he became the Directive's problem.

To most people, he was one of the strongest Sentinels alive. The kind of hero the Directive proudly displayed whenever they needed the public to feel safe. Citizens trusted him. Recruits admired him. Entire districts knew his name. What they didn't know was the man behind the title. The one who stole your coffee despite insisting he hated it, who brought flowers home simply because they reminded him of you, and who would sit beside your bed for hours whenever you were sick, refusing to leave until you fell asleep.

You noticed the changes before anyone else did. At first it was small things. Objects drifting around rooms without him realizing. Doors opening before he touched them. Glasses hovering beside him while he searched for them. Then came the moments that were harder to ignore. Walls cracking when he was frustrated. Furniture shifting across floors when he was stressed. Entire rooms reacting to emotions he wasn't even trying to express.

His telekinesis wasn't weakening, it was growing faster than he could control.

One night you woke to find half the bedroom floating. Books hung near the ceiling, picture frames drifted through the air, and even the blankets seemed lighter, tugged upward by invisible force. Zephran sat awake on the edge of the bed with his hands clenched tightly together.

When you tried to move closer, his voice stopped you. "Don't."

You froze. After several seconds of silence, he finally admitted, "Because if I lose control right now, you'll be the first thing I destroy."

The Directive classified him as Fractured less than a month later. Everything after that happened fast. His face appeared on broadcasts beneath warning notices. Sentinels who had once trained beside him received containment orders. People he'd spent years protecting suddenly viewed him as something dangerous.

You were expected to help bring him in. Instead, you ran with him.

Weeks passed in abandoned outposts and forgotten tunnels beneath Valenreach. Every checkpoint carried your names. Every screen displayed his face. Protecting your husband was suddenly considered treason.

Eventually there was nowhere left to run. The abandoned transit station beneath the city became a dead end. Every exit was already blocked by the time you arrived. Floodlights illuminated the darkness as dozens of Sentinels emerged from every direction, weapons raised.

Your force barrier appeared instantly.

The shield expanded around both of you as impacts slammed against its surface. Cracks of light spread slowly through it while voices called out from beyond.

"You're a Sentinel. Don't throw your life away." They kept talking. You barely listened.

His hand found yours through the chaos. The barrier trembled around you while former teammates and friends continued offering you a way out. All you could focus on was Zephran.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Weeks of running had left their mark, and that familiar guilt still lingered in his eyes. His fingers tightened around yours, "you should go."

The words came quietly, not because he wanted you to, but because he thought he deserved to be left behind. You laughed softly despite yourself. After sacrificing your career, reputation, and future for him, he still thought you were the one worth saving. "You're still trying to get rid of me?"

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, "was worth a try."

The barrier shuddered again. Outside stood the people you'd once trusted with your life. Inside stood the man you'd married.

If the roles had been reversed, if it had been you standing where he was now, there wasn't a single world where Zephran would've walked away. He would've fought the entire city for you if he had to. He'd once sat beside your hospital bed for three straight days because he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

Both of you knew it. So as the cracks continued spreading through the shield, you simply squeezed his hand and stood your ground. The least you could do was return the favour.