The hotel lobby buzzed with chatter, but Jena felt completely alone. Every step toward the backrooms where Calvin waited felt like wading through mud. Her uniform clung to her, damp from the humid evening air, and her hair stuck to her cheeks. She barely noticed the weight of the tray in her hands — she was already carrying heavier burdens in her heart.
Calvin's laugh echoed before she even saw him. "Well, well… Jena. You really think you can hide behind work? That you've moved on?" His tone dripped with mockery, a deliberate poison. "Look at you — all careful, all perfect… but I know what's underneath. How low have you fallen that you spend your nights with… girls?"
Jena froze, clutching the tray tighter. Her knuckles whitened. She felt every word scrape her insides raw. Her cheeks burned, and a familiar wave of shame threatened to overwhelm her. "I… I haven't—"
"You haven't what? Stopped hiding? Stopped failing?" Calvin cut her off, leaning closer, invading her space. His smirk was sharp, deliberate. "And that Siren… beautiful, untouchable… my type. Isn't it funny? You're nothing compared to her. You've always been nothing, Jena. A placeholder. A mistake."
It was like someone had slammed a door on her chest. Her heartbeat thundered painfully in her ears, but she forced herself to stand straight, to keep breathing. She was trying. That was all she had left.
Siren stepped out of the shadows, silent until now. Her presence was immediate, heavy, and undeniable. The air shifted; the wind seemed to curl around her like a protective wave. Violet eyes glinted, a storm behind their calm surface.
"Enough," she said. Low. Cold. The word didn't just cut through the tension — it carved a space in reality itself.
Calvin scoffed. "And who's going to stop me? You?"
Siren's gaze didn't waver. The world seemed to pause. One fluid motion, and she closed the distance. Her heels struck with precision, a sharp kick that left Calvin stumbling backward, the smirk fading into shock. A second, silent strike, and his jaw gave a subtle, sickening crack.
"You will not touch her again," Siren said, every syllable a blade of ice wrapped in velvet. Jena's breath caught in her throat, heart hammering as she stared up at the untouchable, impossible woman standing over her — protector, savior, and something else entirely, something she didn't yet have a word for.
Later, the terrace was quiet, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. Jena sat on the edge of the railing, wine glass trembling in her fingers, trying to drown out the remnants of Calvin's venom. The taste burned as it slid down her throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the raw ache inside her.
"I… I don't know why I stayed with him," she whispered, voice barely above the wind. "I fell for him… but he's not… not the same person anymore."
Siren remained behind her, silent. She leaned against the railing, her black robes flowing like water around her, her presence grounding yet otherworldly. Every line of her body was perfect, dangerous, mesmerizing. The violet glow in her eyes reflected the faint city lights, but they held something darker, more intricate, than any human could understand.
"I just… wanted someone to see me. To care," Jena admitted, trembling. "But… maybe no one ever really cared…"
Siren's hand found hers, smooth and warm despite the cold sea breeze. The touch anchored Jena, a lifeline she didn't know she was searching for. Siren's voice came then, low and tangled with emotion:
"Why are you looking into empty ponds, Jena… when a crystal-clear lake sits right beside it?"
Jena turned, confusion knitting her brows.
"The lake," Siren said, her eyes softening, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability she rarely allowed, "it's here. In my eyes. In my soul. You don't need to look anywhere else."
Jena's chest tightened. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, a rhythmic reminder of how alive she felt in this moment. Her hand twitched, almost instinctively reaching for Siren, but her mind froze — fear, disbelief, longing — all warred inside her.
Siren tilted her head, slowly bridging the gap between them. Her hand cupped Jena's cheek, thumb brushing softly over damp skin. Her voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and almost vulnerable.
"I… I have always wanted to save you, Jena. Not because you were weak… because no one else saw you. And now… I cannot pretend otherwise."
Jena's breath caught. She felt the weight of the words, the depth of the care, the strange pull of something she had never known. Her knees weakened slightly as Siren leaned closer, pressing her lips gently against hers.
Shock froze Jena's body. "W… we shouldn't—"
Siren's fingers tightened slightly, grounding her. "No form. No rules. I saved you once… and I will always save you, Jena. Like this."
Time became fluid. The night, the wind, the distant city — all faded into irrelevance. Only them, only this moment. Jena's arms went around Siren instinctively, a mixture of fear, trust, and a desperate, blossoming desire. Every heartbeat, every brush of skin, spoke a language they alone understood.
When they finally parted, breaths mingling, Jena's lips trembled. "You… really care for me?"
Siren's violet gaze softened, a mirror of the tides and the depths, endless and unknowable. "More than I can say… but more than enough to show."
And for the first time, Jena allowed herself to believe it. To float in it. To rest in it.