That evening, I found myself replaying his words. Kael Joshua. Even the way he said his own name carried weight, like a secret locked behind a door I had no key for.
I should've gone home after the café. But instead, we walked. For hours. Through narrow streets, past old street vendors, under flickering lamps that painted the night gold.
He made me laugh — a sound I hadn't trusted my voice with since Father's death. And yet, every smile that escaped me carried guilt. Because how could I laugh, when my family's world had been left in ashes?
Kael noticed. He didn't ask. He simply said, "When you're ready to tell me, I'll be here."
It broke me in ways I didn't expect. Kindness is dangerous when you're starving for it.
As the night grew colder, we stopped at the bridge that overlooked the river. The same river where, years ago, they had found my father's car after his "accident."
I gripped the railing, staring into the water, and whispered his name.
"Alaric Daniels…"
Kael turned sharply at that. Too sharply.
"Your father?" he asked.
I nodded.
"You knew him?"
His jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us, heavy and unbearable. Then, just as quickly, he smiled — too smoothly.
"No… I've only heard the name."
But in that moment, I saw it.
A flicker in his eyes. Recognition.
And a question burned in me, one I was too afraid to ask:
What did Kael Joshua know about my father's death?
The days that followed were a blur of Kael's presence.
Coffee shared at the café. Late-night walks under the city's restless sky. The kind of conversations that made me forget the ache in my chest — if only for a while.
But trust is a fragile thing. And mine had cracks long before he came along.
One night, I stopped by the café earlier than usual. I wanted to surprise him. Instead, I became the one surprised.
Kael was there, sitting at our usual table, but he wasn't alone.
A man I had never seen before leaned across from him, voice low and urgent. Their words didn't reach me, but their faces did.
Kael's jaw was tight, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. And then, I caught it — a name, hissed sharply by the stranger:
"Eleanor."
My heart froze. That was my father's name. My name.
Kael's gaze darted to the window, and for a terrifying second, I thought he had seen me. But I slipped back into the shadows before his eyes could find mine.
I should have walked away. I should have never looked back.
But instead, I lingered, trembling, as Kael's voice carried through the air, low but sharp.
"Not here. Not now."
The stranger nodded, and just like that, the conversation ended.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the thunder of my heartbeat.
Why was my name on their lips?
And more importantly…
What else was Kael Joshua hiding from me?