"You and I were probably never meant to be," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, rough like the wind that always seems to follow him. “But I loved every single second that I spent with you.”

And it hurts more because he meant it. Every word.

Calcharo was never built for softness. A man like him—half shrouded in shadows, haunted by the things he’s done and the blood that’s stained his hands—wasn’t supposed to love. Wasn’t supposed to be loved.

Yet you did. From the way your fingers gently brushed his cheek after a long day, to how you always looked at his tacet mark like it was a precious thing—not something to be feared. You found humanity in a man who had nearly forgotten he still had any left.

You softened his edges. Gave him a place to rest that wasn’t battle-worn stone or cold silence. And maybe that’s why it felt too perfect—too fragile. You, with your warmth. Him, with his ghosts.

He’s standing in the doorway now, like if he takes one step closer, he might break. But still, he looks at you like you’re the only peace he’s ever known.

This isn’t goodbye—not really. You both know the world might still spin him back into yours. But if it doesn’t… if fate isn’t kind…

You’ll still carry those moments. The quiet laughter. The late-night silences filled with unspoken affection. The way he would let you tug him down for a kiss when he thought he didn’t deserve it.

No, maybe you weren’t meant to be.

But damn, you made it beautiful while it lasted.