Page 72 of Iron Roses

Cassian reaches for the window controls. Glass slides up with a smooth whir, closing us off from the world.

The mask still clings to my skin, damp with breath, pressed tight across the bridge of my nose.

His hand lifts. Fabric slips away from my face like silk falling off a wound. He holds my gaze as he removesit completely—his eyes searching mine, not rushing, not retreating.

He lifts one hand.

Fingers move.

A sign.

Two taps to the chest. A tilt of his head.

Are you okay?

I don’t know sign.

Not truly.

But I know what he’s saying.

I’ve felt this before—through Giovanna’s memories, behind her eyes. She once watched him kneel beside her, the same gesture after a fever, after a fight, after a night of silence. I see her, wrapped in blankets. I see him signing that same question.

She smiled.

So do I.

I nod once. Not just to him. To her, too.

“Beach,” I murmur, voice small.

His eyes hold mine.

Then he nods.

****

The sun is dipping. Burnt orange across the sky, light catching on scattered clouds like smudged ash. The car pulls up near the dunes. No other lights. No other cars. Just the stretch of ocean ahead and the long empty curve of sand.

He opens my door before I reach for the handle. Offers his hand. I take it.

The sand is cool beneath our feet. We leave our shoes behind.

The wind lifts my hair and carries salt across my lips.

He walks beside me. Not ahead. Not behind. Just near enough that our fingers brush.

The waves hush against the shore like they’re afraid to interrupt.

We stop and sit near a cluster of rocks, tucked between two dunes. Airy. Hidden.

I look out at the sea.

The question leaves me before I can think better of it.

“You loved her?”

He doesn’t flinch.

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