[All three of us ]
Seris returned late.
Much later than Lira—and later than she should have, judging by the impatience written all over her face the moment she stepped into the room. Her eyes went to me instantly, scanning me like she expected damage.
"Did it talk again?" she asked sharply.
I shook my head. "No. Just… quiet."
Seris exhaled slowly, shoulders finally dropping. "Good. If it tries something, I swear I'll—" She stopped, noticing my expression. "You look… different."
I opened my mouth—hesitating—but before I could think of a gentle excuse, Lira spoke quietly from behind me.
"I kissed him."
Seris blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then looked straight at me.
"You did?" she asked.
I swallowed and nodded. "Yes."
Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe confusion—but not jealousy. Not anger. Something more complex.
Something thinking.
Lira stepped toward Seris, voice steady. "It wasn't just the bond."
Seris stared at her for a long moment… and then nodded slowly.
"Yeah," she murmured. "I kind of figured."
She turned to me next. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I said quietly. "Better, actually."
Seris breathed out—a heavy breath she'd been holding since the dream, maybe longer. "Good."
She walked closer, close enough that her presence warmed the air between us. And without asking permission, without overthinking, she reached out and rested her palm against my chest—right above the fracture.
A gentle touch. A protective one.
Her voice dropped, rough and honest. "Then I'm glad it was her."
Lira's breath caught.
Mine too.
Because Seris wasn't stepping away.
She was stepping closer.
Lira took her hand slowly—hesitant, hopeful—linking their fingers gently before Seris could pull back. And Seris… didn't pull back.
I stared between them—heart stumbling, bond pulsing like it didn't know which direction to expand first.
Seris didn't look at me—she looked at Lira.
"You love him," she said, not accusing, just stating truth.
Lira nodded. "I do."
Seris swallowed hard. "Yeah. Me too."
Lira blinked—then lowered her forehead softly to Seris's.
And something inside me broke open in the gentlest possible way.
Seris turned back to me, eyes burning with something fierce and vulnerable all at once. "Look—I'm not good at sharing feelings. Or—" she gestured helplessly between us, "—this. But if this is what you're both becoming…"
She stepped closer and took my hand too.
"…then I'm here. With you."
Warmth flushed through the bond—like three pulses syncing into one rhythm again, but gentler than resonance or magic. Human warmth. Emotion. Choice.
Lira leaned into my right shoulder. Seris leaned into my left.
And I—
I leaned into both of them.
No words.
No fear.
No fracture screaming for space.
Just belonging.
---
Later that night
We didn't sleep in our own rooms.
We didn't choose a side of the bed.
We simply fit together—Lira curled against my chest, Seris pressed warmly against my back, an arm around both of us like she was keeping the world out.
No tension. No question. No almost.
Just us.
The bond pulsed softly—slow, warm, tender.
And deep inside, the fracture pulsed too—quiet, like a heartbeat learning how to match ours.
Seris, awake
At some point in the night, I woke again.
Not from dreams—just from the quiet shifting of bodies around me. Lira was asleep against my chest, breathing soft and even, her fingers curled lightly around the fabric of my shirt.
But Seris wasn't asleep.
I felt her before I opened my eyes—the way her breathing wasn't steady, the way her arm around both of us was tense instead of resting.
When I turned slightly, she looked away quickly—pretending for half a second she'd just woken too.
She hadn't.
"Seris," I whispered softly, careful not to wake Lira.
Her jaw clenched. "You go back to sleep."
I shifted quietly so I could see her face. The low lamplight from the corridor window cast a faint glow across her eyes, and for once, there was nothing defensive in them.
Just fear she didn't know how to hide.
"What's wrong?"
She exhaled sharply—frustration at herself more than at me.
"I don't… sleep well when someone I care about gets hurt," she said quietly.
My breath caught. "Seris…"
She shook her head, voice rough. "I don't care if the entity is learning or listening or whatever Halin thinks is happening—I hate that it uses you as its doorway."
Emotion rose in my chest faster than I could speak past it.
"You think I'm strong," she said, a humorless laugh touching her voice. "But you're the one holding everything together. I'm just here trying not to fall apart about it."
"You're not falling apart," I murmured.
She finally met my gaze. "I am. Only you don't see it."
I reached up—slowly—and brushed my fingers against hers where her hand rested near my waist. She went still instantly, breath catching.
"I see you," I said softly. "More than you think."
Her expression cracked—just slightly—like she wasn't ready for those words but needed them more than she'd ever admit.
"And I'm scared," she whispered, voice shaking just enough for me to hear it.
"Of the entity?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Of losing you."
My heart stuttered.
Lira murmured faintly against my chest but didn't wake; she only shifted closer, as if even half because she sensed Seris's fear through the bond.
Seris watched her, then me, voice breaking softly:
"She loves you already. And I—" her voice faltered, "—I'm still figuring out how not to ruin good things."
"You could never ruin this," I said, firmer than I meant to. "Not for us."
Her eyes softened—painfully.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "But I'm trying."
I lifted my hand, touched her cheek gently with trembling fingers. "That's enough, Seris. That's more than enough."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself lean into the touch—just barely.
Then, in a voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it—
"Arin… can I…?"
Her meaning didn't need words.
I leaned forward, gently, carefully, and pressed the softest kiss to her forehead—not lips, not yet—just enough to let her feel chosen.
Her breath caught like I'd touched something fragile inside her she'd spent years protecting.
Her hand rose to my wrist, holding my touch there. "Thank you," she whispered—not for the kiss, but for staying.
I shifted back slowly, my fingers sliding away but not fully letting go.
"I'm not going anywhere," I murmured.
Her voice broke again, softer than I'd ever heard it.
"Then maybe I can sleep."
She moved closer, very slowly, as if asking permission with every inch, until her forehead rested lightly against my shoulder.
Lira curled unconsciously against my other side, and I wrapped my arms gently around both of them—protecting them in the only way I could.
This time, Seris fell asleep within minutes.
And for the first time in a long time, the world felt right.