The festival nights were always the hardest. The fire, the singing, the laughter—everything was meant to bring the clan together. For you, it had always been joy. But ever since Jake had joined your people, those nights had felt…different.

You were Neytiri’s sibling, the child of the olo’eyktan, raised to carry tradition and protect the honor of your family. And Jake… he was the outsider made one of you, the warrior chosen by Eywa herself. He was not yours to want. You had told yourself this a hundred times. A thousand. And yet…

Your eyes found him across the fire, as they always did. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. That steady, searching gaze of his, like he was waiting for you to give him permission to feel what you both had been trying to bury.

You turned away, forcing yourself into the rhythm of the dance. Still, you felt him, tugging at you like a thread wrapped tight around your heart. It had been this way for moons: fleeting touches that lingered, glances that said too much, silences heavy with words that refused to be spoken.

When the song slowed, you turned, and he was there. Closer. The fire carved his face in gold and shadow, his eyes locked on yours. His voice came low, almost breaking, words falling like a confession he had carried too long.

“I keep telling myself it’s nothing,” he said. “That it has to be nothing. But every time I look at you, hmm…” He shook his head, breath unsteady. “I know I’m lying.”

Your heart stumbled. You wanted to remind him of duty, of blood, of the thousand reasons this could not be. But what rose instead was softer, a truth that slipped through before you could stop it.

“Then… stop lying.”

He blinked, surprised, then let out a small laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. The music swelled, the lanterns drifted like captive stars, but in that moment it felt as though time itself had paused for the two of you.

His hand brushed yours, light as breath. You could have pulled away. You should have. But when his fingers lingered, curling into your palm, you stayed.

His eyes searched you with something raw, something aching, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of everything you had both left unsaid.

“I see you.”