A memory crept into my mind, sharp and uninvited. Six years ago, when Kael and I first started dating, he had kissed me while drunk. His lips brushed mine, and he mumbled something, soft, incoherent.
I had convinced myself he was murmuring my name. But no matter how many times I replayed it, the sound didn’t fit.
Looking back now, it was clear. He hadn’t been calling my name. It was hers.
Shaking off the memory, I forced myself to move. I turned off my computer, extinguished the light in the study, and headed for the bedroom.
“Skylar.”
I turned slowly.
Kael stood there, his posture casual but his expression uneasy. Dressed in loose pajamas, he looked at me with something that resembled worry.
“You’ve been different lately,” he said, his words deliberate, his tone unsure. “Is something bothering you? You seem distant. We promised to talk about everything always, remember? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
For a moment, his presence was disarming. The way he looked at me and spoke felt like a shadow of the man I had fallen for all those years ago.
That year, on a rainy afternoon, we had accidentally swapped umbrellas. Kael stood across from me, a gentle smile lighting up his face.