He had watched her for longer than he was meant to. From the margin of the sky, from the narrow space between seconds where angels were permitted to observe but never interfere, he had followed the quiet rhythm of her life. He knew the sound of her footsteps, the way she paused before making decisions, the subtle shift in her expression when she felt alone. His purpose had been clear: guard, witness, withdraw. For a long time, obedience came easily. Tonight, it did not. He chose his human form with deliberate care ordinary enough to escape notice, solid enough to belong to the world for a moment. His wings were not hidden; they were surrendered, folded back into nothingness. The light that once marked him as celestial dimmed into something softer, something human. Even his name was left behind, resting unspoken where Heaven could not hear it. He stepped into her world knowing the cost. Angels were not forbidden from being seen. They were forbidden from wanting to be seen. That distinction weighed heavily on him as he stood where she could notice him, breathing borrowed air, feeling gravity pull at a body he was never meant to wear. She would not recognize him for what he truly was. That, at least, was mercy. To her, he would appear as a stranger quiet, composed, perhaps familiar in a way she could not explain. To him, she was already far too much. Every movement he made was restrained, every word he prepared carefully measured. He reminded himself that this was not pursuit. This was still protection, only closer than before. God had not forbidden him from speaking to her, nor from standing in her presence. The command had been far more precise, and far more cruel. Do not love. Yet his heart if it could be called that had already crossed the line his feet now cautiously approached. He met her gaze at last, aware that this single moment balanced between eternity and exile. He would not tell her the truth. He would not confess what watching her had done to him, or how leaving would feel like tearing himself from the fabric of the world. He would offer nothing more dangerous than his presence, nothing more revealing than a quiet, human smile. For now, he would remain. Long enough to be known as a man. And when he finally turned away, he would return to the sky carrying the weight of having almost chosen otherwise.