Chapter 65: The Distance Between Us [1]
Kael finally pushed himself up from the sofa. His face still carried a trace of pink, just the faintest blush, but he pretended otherwise, shoulders squared, steps confident, like a knight going to war… against his own heartbeat. But then, just as he took another step—
His vision tilted. A sharp wave hit him like a jolt of lightning cracking through the center of his skull. The entire room spun violently, his balance yanked from beneath him. One foot slid across the polished marble floor, maybe catching on something, or maybe nothing at all, and his body tilted forward.
His eyes struggled to focus. But even through the hazy blur, he saw her, Seraphina, standing just ahead watching him.
"Oh, crap, this fucking headache again… Damn it, not now!" his thoughts screamed in panic, "No, no, don't collapse in front of her. This is the dumbest way to die. Still, not like this!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, already imagining the way she'd coldly step aside, let him slam head-first into the floor, and maybe kick him afterward for being dramatic.
But… nothing.
No crash.
No thud.
No pain.
He blinked. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't on the ground. He was hanging. Loosely. Awkwardly. His knees bent toward the floor, arms hanging in mid-air like a puppet caught halfway through collapse.
Seraphina stood just a few feet to the side of him, her face as blank as ever, but one pale hand was gripping the collar of his shirt. Whether it was gentle or rough, he couldn't tell. Somehow, without even moving forward, she had caught him.
He stared at her. "…You caught me? But why?"
She didn't look at him. Not directly. Her expression unreadable. Then, with mechanical grace, she let go of his collar.
He dropped. Not too hard, just enough to land awkwardly on his tailbone. He winced and quickly sat up, propping himself with both arms as he looked at her, mouth half-open in disbelief.
"Wait—hey! That's rude! If you were gonna let me fall, then let me fall properly! And if you were gonna catch me, then actually catch me! You can't just halfway save me and then let me drop like a bag of regrets. That's emotionally confusing!"
She turned her head a fraction, eyes resting on him with a calm stillness, as if weighing whether the silence between them was better left undisturbed. Then she said, flatly, "I only caught you because I wanted the satisfaction of dropping you myself."
Kael's mouth opened to retort, but paused. He narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't even make sense."
But Seraphina wasn't looking at him anymore. Not really. Because the truth was, just for a second, she had caught him. Instinctively.
When he was going to fall, she had seen it. The exhaustion flickering behind his eyes. Not the usual theatrics, but something a little more real, something fragile. And for that brief moment, she thought maybe he was truly collapsing, and her body moved on its own, reaching out to grab his collar as quickly as it could.
But then, after catching him, she looked at him. So typically dumb, so infuriatingly dramatic, and she immediately second-guessed herself. What if it was just another act? Another play? One more of his ridiculous games? So she let go. And he fell.
"Well, if you're not actually dying," she said without looking back, "then come on. It's already…" She glanced at the clock in the wall. Her brow twitched. "…What? 2 A.M.?"
She blinked. No wonder her legs felt heavy. No wonder her thoughts were jumbled and her skin was warm.
"Great," she muttered, hand briefly to her temple. "Just great. I missed the perfect sleep window. Of course I did. And I have to wake up early, too. Perfect."
She looked back at him, narrowing her eyes as he remained on the floor. "And I doubt you'll get up on your own. Hmph. You'll pay for this, Kael."
Without another word, without a single look back, she turned, graceful, composed, and began walking toward the stairs. Her silver hair caught the moonlight, fluttering gently with each step. She didn't say another word. Didn't pause. Didn't turn around.
Kael watched her go. He adjusted his posture, pulled himself upright with a huff, and crossed his arms like a noble plotting revenge… or perhaps a man simply trying to recover his dignity.
"…Well, well," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Wasn't expecting that." His thoughts drifted back again. That evening. The way Seraphina had cornered him, her eyes unreadable. Then again, earlier on the sofa, when she had come so close. Just for a few seconds, but close enough that he could feel the heat of her presence. "Does she enjoy closing the distance between us?" he wondered aloud. "If it's just to tease me, then she really means it." He paused. "Doesn't she get embarrassed at all?"
A breath slipped past his lips, half a laugh. "Maybe that's the power of a cold heart."
He pressed a hand lightly over his chest, fingers curling tightly around the fabric, almost rumpling the shirt, as if he could physically feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath. "I wish I had one too. Then maybe my heart wouldn't jump every time she did those things. But why does it even beat so hard? It's strange... I've never felt anything like this before. Why this heart? Why?"
He didn't have an answer.
"However," He tapped his chin dramatically. "today I've seen not one, but two new sides of her. One that's full-on rage demon… and another one that's... weirdly kind. Like, cute kind. Which is new. Which is dangerous. Which is definitely gonna make it harder to be mean to her on purpose."
He sighed long and loud, throwing his arms behind his head in mock defeat. "Women. They really are like chameleons. I mean, I've heard people say a woman can change her personality like a chameleon changes its colors, but today I saw it. Right in front of me. In one hour she went from ready-to-murder to... Honey."
He started walking after her, slowly, exaggerating each stretch like the living room was a stage and he was an exhausted lead actor in the final act of a tragic play. "She could've just said she missed me," he muttered, "but nooo. Gotta maintain the cold, silent, icy villainess act. Like always. Hah~ I love this game. It's exhausting. But I love it."
He paused for a moment, glancing back at the sofa. His smile faded slightly, his eyes growing softer as the memory replayed. "Honey…"
That word.
The way she said it.
So soft. So unwilling. And yet… so sweet.
Sweet like warm tea after a storm.
Sweet like a flower blooming in snow.
Sweet like something not meant to be heard, yet was said anyway.
He bit the inside of his cheek, a small blush returning to his face. "…I have to hear it again," he whispered to himself. "That means I'll have to push her a little further."
And then, with a grin not even he could suppress, he followed her up the stairs, quietly, dramatically, hopelessly enchanted.
---
When Kael pushed open the door to their shared room, it let out a soft creak, as if even the door itself hesitated to disturb the silence within. The lights were off.
Only the silver moonlight spilled in through the sheer curtains, casting a faint glow that fell gently over the room. The outlines of the bed were barely visible, but he could already see it, her side.
Seraphina lay there, turned away from him, blanket pulled up around her form like a barrier. Her body curved slightly toward the wall, as always. One-sided, just like every night.
Kael stood in the doorway for a moment, then shut the door with more force than necessary. His fingers slipped into his pockets, as if hoping they might keep him from doing something foolish again. The quiet hush of the room wrapped around him like a thin fog. He squinted toward her, catching only the outline of her back under the blanket.
"Well, look at her," his thoughts wandered lazily, curling and twisting like smoke as he took a slow, deliberate step forward, "There she is, sleeping like nothing happened at all... and even after calling me honey she acted like nothing. Did she even realize what she did to me? No remorse. None."
He let out a soft sigh, shook his head slowly, and began to walk, deliberately slow, each step measured. As he neared the bed, his fingers brushed along his jaw, rubbing it thoughtfully.
"She's not even twitching," he thought with a slight pout tugging at his lips. "Must be nice. Just rolling over and ignoring me like I'm some background noise... or a pest... or her legally-wedded idiot husband who only wanted a little reaction from her and got treated like a war criminal instead."
His eyes glinted faintly in the moonlight as he smirked to himself, an idea forming. "Should I keep going? Push a little more? Nah, probably not... I've already crossed too many lines tonight. But seriously, how the hell can she sleep like this? Just curled up all calm like she didn't shout at me five hours ago. I'll see just how much you can bear, Seraphina."
He straightened his posture and stretched, arms raised, voice just loud enough. "Hey, honey. Are you still awake?" he asked in a casual, singsong tone, as if they hadn't fought all day and the world was perfectly fine.
For a moment, silence. Then a faint shift beneath the blanket. A small, annoyed voice answered him with zero warmth.
"Yes. I am. What do you want now? Just come and sleep. Don't start again."
But he didn't move toward the bed. Not yet. Instead, he turned his head to glance toward the window. Moonlight spilled faintly through the curtain, brushing across his face with a cold glow. He stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, as if he were looking at something distant, something not entirely here.
He looked different in that moment. A little more serious. A little quieter. Then, without warning, the spell broke and the dramatics returned.
With a soft rustle of fabric, he brought his hands up and, almost ceremoniously, began unbuttoning his shirt. One button at a time. Slowly. Smoothly. As if the act itself was sacred, or worse, performed.
The fabric slid open, bit by bit, exposing his not-quite-impressive but certainly dramatic chest to the cool night air. The shirt fell from his shoulders in a theatrical ripple and he tossed it onto a nearby chair with all the flair of an actor stepping off stage.
"Honey," he said in a mock-humble whisper, "I think I'm going to sleep shirtless tonight. Just feels like that kind of night, you know? The air is warm. The moon is nice. My skin needs to breathe. What do you think? Any objections?"
There was a pause. A moment of silence too sharp to ignore. Then her voice came, clearer this time, her tone clipped and annoyed.
"Kael... I think we should call it a day. You've already had your fun, didn't you? You annoyed me. You embarrassed me. You made a fool of yourself and somehow dragged me into it. Congratulations. You've won whatever childish game you were playing. So what now, huh? What are you trying to prove?" She paused for a moment then added, "Now. Put your damn shirt back on, get in bed, and keep your mouth shut."
He stepped forward just a little. Barefoot against the floor, moving without rush.
"Nothing much. I'm feeling a little sweaty though. A man's gotta be comfortable when he sleeps, right? Can't possibly wear a suffocating shirt. And besides... I worked hard today. Emotionally. It's hot. I'm hot. Maybe you're hot too, you just don't realize it because you've frozen yourself from the inside out."
Another step.
Seraphina's blanket moved slightly, only just. Her hand rose to her forehead and rubbed her temple like she was trying to scrub him out of her thoughts.
"If you touch this bed without that shirt back on," she said, voice dangerously calm, "I. Will. Kill. You. I don't care if it's midnight or morning. Don't test me, Kael. Not tonight."
He raised a brow, as if surprised. Then smiled. "Come on, you think I'm dangerous like that? You're the one who can knock someone unconscious with a single death glare. What am I gonna do? Hug you to death?"
"You're impossible."
"And you're gorgeous when you're mad."
She didn't respond to that. Not with words. Just turned her face away again, sharp and cold and utterly unbothered, though the slight twitch in her brow betrayed her.
"You're my wife, you know," he added, sauntering closer. "It's not like you're a stranger or something. I can sleep shirtless. I have rights."
"Fine," she muttered under her breath, voice tight. "Do whatever the hell you want. Just don't breathe near me. Don't even think near me. And keep your mouth shut. Unlike you, I need to wake up on time and face actual responsibilities. And if you do not listen I'll truly kill you. Truly."
Kael, unfazed, lowered himself dramatically onto the bed, chest exposed, sighing as though collapsing from battle.
"Too late. I'm already dead," he whispered into the mattress. "Slain by ice queen's cold words and beautiful indifference. And... that honey..."
"Shut up."
"I try," he murmured, voice muffled by the pillow. "But you know you missed me. Admit it. Just a little. Maybe not enough to forgive me, but enough to not stab me. That's progress."
She didn't reply. Just breathed slowly. Eyes closed.
Kael peeked toward her back with one eye. Then grinned, whispering under his breath, "So you're saying there's hope."
A theatrical sigh escaped his lips. "Oww~" he breathed in a low, drawn-out moan of pure satisfaction, burying his face deep into the pillow. "You have no idea how much I missed this bed… It's like the heavens kissed this mattress while I was gone. The softness… the scent... Ahh, bliss."
He stretched his limbs as if the sheets were silk woven by angels. Both arms folded into a makeshift pillow beneath his cheek, where his mouth gently rested. His back lay bare, though his pants still clung low around his hips.
"And this smell…" his voice grew quieter, almost reverent. "Damn, this scent. You. It's all you. It's like… like warmth after rain. Like the inside of a dream I don't want to wake up from. Honestly, if someone told me I could sleep for a week in this exact spot with your scent wrapped around me, I'd say where do I sign."
But even as his body melted into the mattress , his mind didn't quite follow. Sleep, for all his dramatics, didn't come. His eyes, half-lidded, fluttered open just enough to steal another glance at her.
Seraphina. Facing away, as usual. Her silver hair had unraveled across the pillow, strands tangled, some falling gently along the curve of her shoulder. It wasn't elegant or composed like when she wore her armor or commanded soldiers, it was human. Real. And under the moonlight that painted the room in pale silver-blue, she looked… softer.
He couldn't help it. His head shifted, and so did his body, now lying on his side, one ear pressed softly against the pillow. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to move. Inch by inch, he crept toward her side, silent as a whisper. Just a peek. Just to test the waters. Or maybe to poke the monster with a stick.
But Seraphina, as always, was impossible to fool. Without turning, without even lifting her head from the pillow, her voice cut through the quiet.
"Don't come any closer." Her tone was low. Even. But sharp enough to slice. "And don't even think about getting closer. It's literally line crossing, Kael."
Kael froze for just a breath. Then sighed loudly, theatrically, and flopped his head back onto his pillow, letting out a small grunt of defeat.
"Is that so?" he murmured, lips tugging into the faintest smile. "Funny how it's always 'line crossing' when it's me. But when you do it, it's fine." He let out a quiet sigh. "The whole caging-me-in thing in the tree doesn't count? Sofa doesn't count? Not a word from you then. But when I so much as breathe near your blanket's border, suddenly I'm a criminal. Very fair. Absolutely even-handed. And that's what you call justice, huh? Knight-Captain Seraphina, shining beacon of justice and expert in double standards, turns out to be wonderfully one-sided."
There was no immediate reply. Just the steady rhythm of her breath and the faint rustle of the blanket as her fingers shifted, curling slightly near her mouth.
Kael tilted his head again, just a little. "Hm? Nothing to say?" he prodded softly. "No witty retort? No glare? No icy insult to remind me of my place in your world?"
Still nothing.
He swallowed, feeling a flicker of heat rise to his face. He scratched the back of his head, awkward now despite himself. "…It's kind of embarrassing, you know..." A pause. "Talking like this into the silence. Even for me."
Seraphina didn't move. Didn't shift. Her breathing stayed even. Her face, hidden beneath that waterfall of silver, remained unreadable.
He exhaled through his nose, but this time, the sound lacked the playfulness it carried earlier. It was quieter. Almost… careful.
"You're still mad at me, huh?" he said softly, less a tease now, more a reflection. "Can't blame you. Honestly. You're kind of an expert at this silent treatment. Like, really good. World-class. Do you take lessons? Or is it just years of dealing with me that honed your skills?"
Still no answer. Just the wind outside picking up, making the curtains lift and fall like they too were growing restless.
"…Or maybe you fell asleep already," he added with a small sigh. "Guess that would be convenient, huh? No need to answer me. No need to deal with my nonsense. Just pull the blanket over your head and forget I exist."
He didn't moved but his eyes were still on her back. He let a few moments pass. Then another.
"…I'm sorry, honey," he murmured, voice low, stripped of all performance now. "I know I went too far today. I asked something I shouldn't. Did things I shouldn't. I always go too far when I'm trying to get your attention, don't I?"
A breath.
"I just… sometimes I forget how to be serious when I'm around you. I start playing and teasing and pushing buttons because… I guess I get scared. Scared if I stop laughing, you'll remember how much you hate me."
Another pause. Then, quietly— "But I really am sorry. I mean that."
He closed his eyes. He brought his legs together not fully.
"Good night, honey."
He waited. Just one beat. A second. But there was no answer. No movement. Kael sighed, quieter this time. Less dramatic. More tired. He turned to her side, resting one hand beneath his ear. His legs stretched out straight, the other hand falling gently in the bed.
The curtains danced again. The moonlight curved across the room like a slow tide. And little by little, the tension in his body began to melt away. His fingers loosened their grip. His breath deepened. His brow, always furrowed with some new dramatic thought, softened at last. And finally, with a slow exhale, Kael drifted off into sleep.
---
(Chapter Ended)