Page 188 of Star Claimed Omega
Even when she didn’t acknowledge him, he followed, prowling, silent and constant.
Because his love for her was now outworked in patience and in standing in the dark until she turned and said,Stay.
SOLEIL
The hallway outside Soleil’s tiny hovel always reeked of recycled food and sewer rot.
She ignored it, just as she disregarded the loose wall panel that buzzed when the lights blinked overhead, or the rattle of pipes when someone up the corridor flushed.
What she couldn’t disregard washim.
Santi.
He took to sleeping just beyond her door and across the corridor like her shadow.
Every night without fail, she found him curled up in a far corner, coat pulled over his shoulders, long legs stretched out, his back propped against the cold partition.
Silent, still, sentry-like, yet possessive and unrelenting.
Her fokkin’ stalker.
Still, each night she slept better than she had in years.
However, she recognized the toll it took on him, the hollowness in his cheeks, the tension in his spine, the thinning of his muscled leanness.
He’d left his creature comforts, his ship, his title,everything, to sleep outside her hovel like a wolf keeping vigil at a cave mouth.
One night, after a long, torturous day and a murderous maglev journey, she paused at her door and observed him settled into his spot.
Unbidden, tears welled up.
He sensed her at once, his flaming eyes snapping up to meet hers.
She jolted, took a hasty inhale, and pushed through her door.
She wasn’t ready for him, not quite; if anything, her suffering was even more raw now.
She dashed away the wetness on her cheeks, for Soleil rarely cried.
She’d refused to, for years.
Grief was a luxury she taught herself to live without, tight-lipped, back straight, teeth clenched through every loss and wound.
Yet somehow, Santi’s silent presence outside her door, night after night, pushed against her inner barriers.
His steadiness cracked open a truth that sank deep into her marrow; that, despite her resistance, she didn’t have to carry her burdens all alone.
Later that night, after a dinner of thin, tasteless noodle broth and a hurried rinse in the closet-sized shower, she slid into bed, soul frayed and brittle with exhaustion.
The hum of the station murmured around her like a tired lullaby, and for a moment, she thought sleep might come.
Then, without warning, the walls she spent years fortifying gave way.
The dam burst.
At first, it was silent, just breath hitching in her throat, tears sliding down the bridge of her nose into the pillow.
Then the surge of grief hit harder, rougher.
