SERAPHINA’S POV
After that day, an unspoken truce seemed to settle between Kieran and me, both of us wordlessly agreeing on one thing: distance.
We were careful with each other, deliberate, like rival soldiers who’d stumbled too close on a battlefield, retreating to their lines with weapons lowered but hands still tense on the hilts.
We fell into a strange rhythm—not the comfortable kind that soothed, but one strung taut, like a bow pulled back too far.
He no longer hovered around me or cornered me against walls and counters. No longer lingered behind me with that charged silence that made the air feel too tight.
And I no longer felt the burn of his gaze when he thought I wasn’t looking. At least, I told myself I didn’t.
And in truth, I clung to that distance as much as I resented it.
Because it was safer. For me. For him.
For my baby boy, who only ever wanted his mother to be happy.
My injury healed pretty quickly, and soon, I was back on my feet.
