Page 22 of Wraith

“Don’t you ever get tired of this?” I asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Aeron’s gaze sharpened. “Tired of what?”

“Pretending,” I said, leaning forward. “Acting like nothing happened. Like everything’s fine.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something harder, colder. “Careful, Ciaran,” he said, his voice low. “You’re starting to sound reckless.”

“Reckless?” I repeated, scoffing. “I’m not the one acting like?—”

“Like what?” Aeron cut in, his tone sharp. “Like someone who doesn’t want to draw attention? You think talking about this here, where anyone could hear, is a good idea?”

I glanced around the café, my chest tightening as I realized how loud I’d been. The place wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people to make me regret my outburst. A couple of students sat near the counter, their heads bent over textbooks. The barista was busy wiping down a machine, barely paying us any attention. Still, Aeron’s words hit like a warning shot.

“You think they’re listening?” I muttered, my voice low now.

“I think you shouldn’t be taking chances,” Aeron replied, his eyes narrowing. “We’re not exactly in a position to be careless, are we?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms as I tried to bite back the surge of frustration bubbling in my chest. “Fine,” I said tightly. “We won’t talk about it.”

“Good,” Aeron said, leaning forward, his voice dropping. “Because the last thing we need is someone putting two and two together. Especially about... her.”

The mention of her sent a sharp pang through me. I clenched my fists under the table, the bond flaring faintly in response. It didn’t feel like her anymore. It didn’t feel like anything. Just a hollow, lifeless thing that refused to let me forget.

“She didn’t deserve it,” I muttered, my voice barely audible.

Aeron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, she didn’t. But saying it out loud isn’t going to change anything.”

“You don’t feel it?” I asked, leaning forward again. “The bond? The way it’s?—”

“Not dead?” Aeron finished, his voice flat. “Yeah, I feel it. Every damn day. But it doesn’t matter, Ciaran. She’s gone.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. She’s gone. It was the truth, but it felt wrong, like an open wound that refused to heal.

“She looked at me,” I said quietly, my voice shaking. “That night. Before she fell. She looked at me like?—”

“Stop,” Aeron snapped, his eyes darting around the café. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away. The students near the counter were still buried in their books, oblivious to us, but Aeron’s words made me hyper-aware of every glance, every sound.

“You’re right,” I muttered, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable. “Why bother talking about it? Doesn’t change anything, right?”

“Exactly,” Aeron said, his tone softening just enough to catch me off guard. “Ciaran, I get it. I do. But we can’t fix this. All we can do is move forward.”

I laughed, the sound dry and hollow. “Move forward? Is that what you’re doing? Because it looks to me like you’re just running from it.”

“And what are you doing?” Aeron shot back, his gaze sharp. “Sulking? Beating yourself up? What’s that accomplishing?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. He was right. I wasn’t accomplishing anything. I was just... stuck. Trapped in this endless loop of guilt and regret, with no way out.

“She deserved better,” I said finally, my voice breaking.

Aeron didn’t respond right away. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost reluctant. “Yeah,” he said. “She did.”

The bond flickered again, faint and empty, and for a moment, I thought I felt something. A whisper of her. But it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving only the hollow ache behind.

I pushed myself up from the booth, my legs feeling like lead. “I need some air.”

Aeron didn’t try to stop me. He just watched as I walked away, his gaze heavy, like he knew there was nothing he could say to pull me out of this.

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