Chapter 7
The room was dim, the only light coming from the flicker of a candle struggling against the dark. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, twisting and folding like the secrets Nova and Bea kept locked inside. Nova's eyes found Bea's silhouette—half-shrouded, half-revealed—like a flame refusing to be tamed, wild and dangerous, yet painfully familiar.
Bea didn't turn to face her, but her voice cut through the silence, low and raw. "Why do you keep coming back to this?" There was no anger, just the weight of years spent fighting the same war without a truce.
Nova swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the heat of Bea's words settle over her like smoke. She stepped closer, the air between them thick with memories and unsaid apologies. "Because you're the only fire that feels like home," she whispered, her voice trembling but honest.
Bea's breath hitched, the first sign of vulnerability breaking through her carefully built walls. "Home," she repeated, voice softer now, almost a question.
Nova's hand hovered, unsure whether to reach out or retreat. The distance between them felt like miles, yet their hearts beat in sync—a rhythm forged from pain, hope, and a fierce need to hold on despite everything.
"I don't know if this," Nova gestured to the shadows around them, "is a place we can stay. But I know I'm not ready to let go."
For a long moment, neither moved. The candle flickered again, casting a golden glow that made Bea's eyes shimmer like distant stars. Then, slowly, Bea turned, stepping into the light, her gaze steady and unguarded.
"We're both flames, Nova," Bea said quietly. "Burning bright, but always in danger of burning out. Maybe that's what keeps us coming back—the fear of the dark without each other."
Nova nodded, feeling the ache of truth in her bones. They were broken, beautiful, and bound together by a fire that refused to die.
The silence stretched, heavy and tender, wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. Nova's eyes traced the delicate curve of Bea's jaw, the way her breath caught just beneath her skin. It was a quiet kind of longing, the kind that whispered promises neither dared speak aloud.
Bea's fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, a small gesture that felt like an invitation—an opening in the fortress she kept so guarded. "You think we can survive this?" Her voice barely rose above the candle's flicker.
Nova's heart ached with the weight of that question. "I don't know. But I do know I want to try. With you."
A ghost of a smile flickered on Bea's lips, like a flame dancing just before the storm. "You're crazy."
"Maybe," Nova said softly, stepping closer still until the space between them was nothing but a breath. "But it's our kind of crazy."
Their hands found each other in the dark, fingers weaving like threads of flame, binding them in something fierce and unbreakable. The night held its breath, and for a moment, everything else—fear, doubt, the past—slipped away.
Because sometimes, babe, love is the only fire worth burning for.