The space between you and Azriel had never felt this vast. Not even when you fought, not even when silence stretched between you for days.

Now, though, it wasn’t silence. It was something worse.

Azriel sat at the edge of the bed, his wings low, shadows curling sluggishly at his feet. You stood near the door, arms wrapped around yourself as if that could hold you together.

Neither of you spoke.

Because what was there to say?

You were unraveling, thread by thread, and neither of you knew how to stop it.

Azriel’s fingers flexed against his knee, his jaw tight. “I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want this to happen.”

Your throat tightened. “Then why does it feel like it already has?”

He didn’t have an answer. And maybe that was the answer.

You looked at him for a long moment, memorizing the way he looked at you—like he wanted to fight for this, but didn’t know how.

Neither did you.