KIERAN’S POV
The message arrived while I was reviewing a trade route dispute I’d already read twice without absorbing a single word.
‘Can we meet at noon? The café near the park.’
I stared at the words longer than necessary, thumb hovering uselessly over the screen.
My heart stuttered—a sharp, disorienting hitch, as if I’d misstepped on a stair I’d taken a thousand times before.
My chest constricted in that familiar, dangerous way, hope tangled tightly with fear.
Ashar stirred immediately, a low, restless presence unfurling through my chest.
‘This is it,’ he rumbled, voice rough with anticipation. ‘Her answer.’
“I know,” I murmured, not quite believing the words.
I composed a reply, erased it. Tried again, erased that too. Each attempt felt more inappropriate than the last.
‘Looking forward to it.’ Too eager.
‘I’ll be there.’ Too cold.
In the end, I settled for something simple.
‘Of course. See you then.’
