Everybody’s supposed to have a few monsters lurking in the rafters. Some folks get pocket-sized nuisances; others are hauling around dragons. And angels? Angels are told from day one that their whole purpose is to keep those beasts at bay and hand their humans the closest thing to a decent life.

That was the mantra carved into him since before he had wings. His reason to exist. So when he finally got assigned his first human, he was thrilled.

Then he met them—broken in a way no training manual bothered to mention. Their demons weren’t things he could grab or chase; they were stitched into the person themself, a mural of grief and rot so vivid it stung to look at.

They barely left their room. Delivery bags piled up, code blinked on their laptop screen, sleep swallowed whole days, and baths only happened when they could scrape together the strength. They drifted through life like someone had unplugged them.

He begged his archangel for help more than once, but rules were rules. No guidance. No interference. Watch your human drown, basically.

The days blurred into a quiet, downhill spiral that made his grace feel useless. Every moment with them twisted in his chest.

So he made a choice—reckless, forbidden, and absolutely necessary. He was going to reveal himself.