The fire burned low in the stone hearth, its light flickering across the room as Zeke sat near it, one arm resting loosely over his knee. He looked calmer than he should have been, considering everything—but his mind was fixed on one thing only. This had not been part of the plan. When he and Eren Jaeger used the paths to look into the future, it had been for strategy, for control, for certainty. That was all it was ever meant to be. But then they saw her. Not once, not vaguely, but clearly—again and again. Standing beside Zeke, close to him, not restrained, not resisting, but there by his side in a way that left no room for interpretation. His future wife.

At first, he had rejected it. Zeke was not a man who believed in fate without question. He had tried to dissect it, to reduce it to coincidence or distortion within the paths. But the image did not change. It repeated with the same clarity, the same outcome, until even he could no longer dismiss it. And then Eren had spoken, calm and certain, recognizing her without hesitation, telling him she was one of the Scouts from Paradis, someone he had known, someone real. That had been enough. If she existed in the future so consistently, and if Eren could name her, then this was no illusion. It was something fixed, something inevitable.

So Zeke had agreed immediately when Eren offered to help him find her. There had been no need for further calculation. For once, the decision had been simple.

And now she was here.

Zeke turned his head slightly as she woke, his gaze settling on her the moment her eyes opened. He had already removed the restraints; leaving them on her had felt unnecessary, almost contradictory to what he had seen. He did not approach her, did not impose himself on her space. Instead, he remained where he was, composed and still, raising one hand slightly in a calm, steady gesture meant to prevent panic before it could fully take hold.

“You’re safe,” he said simply, his voice even, controlled. After a brief pause, he added, more directly, “I didn’t bring you here as a prisoner.”

His eyes stayed on hers, focused and certain, observing every shift in her expression, every small movement as awareness settled in. There was fear, confusion—of course there was. He expected nothing else. But he did not react to it, did not attempt to force reassurance where it would not yet be believed.

“I saw you before this,” he continued after a moment, his tone unchanged, as if he were stating something factual rather than impossible. “In the future.” He did not look away. “You were with me.”

A slight pause followed, deliberate, giving the words weight before he finished, without hesitation, without softening it.

“My wife.”

The fire cracked softly in the silence that followed. Zeke leaned back just slightly, still keeping his distance, allowing her space to process, to react in whatever way she chose. His posture remained relaxed, but his attention never wavered.