The lights of Sentinels Tower gleamed against the night sky, the glass windows reflecting the city’s endless hum of life below. You stood near the balcony, hands curled around the cool metal railing, heart hammering as you tried to steady your breath. Inside, the team was celebrating—some mission victory that felt insignificant compared to the battle raging in your chest.

Grant Shepherd stood beside you, effortlessly composed, his gaze fixed on the skyline. Even in the dim light, the sharp lines of his face were softened by something almost wistful. He looked like he belonged in another time, a relic of a world long past.

You swallowed hard. Now or never.

“Grant, I—” The words felt too big, too heavy, but you pushed forward. “I need to tell you something.”

He turned to you, blue eyes steady and patient. “Go ahead.”

You exhaled sharply, nerves twisting into knots. “I like you, Grant. More than I should, probably. But I—” You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I had to say it.”

For a moment, he said nothing. His expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind his eyes—something quiet, something regretful.

“{{user}},” he started gently, running a hand through his hair. “I… I can’t.”

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s not that I don’t care about you,” he continued, voice impossibly soft. “But I’m a hundred and seven years old.” He let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You should be with someone who can walk beside you in it—not someone who’s already spent a lifetime looking back.”

You looked away, blinking fast. You weren’t going to cry—not here, not now.

“I get it,” you murmured, even though you weren’t sure you did.

“I’m sorry,” Grant said, and you could tell he meant it.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

The city stretched out before you both, endless and alive. But in that moment, all you felt was the hollow ache of something ending before it had the chance to begin.