The next morning brought a pale winter sun and tension that clung like frost on glass.
Evelyn hadn't slept. Not really. Not after Alexander's near-confession… or that almost-kiss.
She touched her lips as she moved through the quiet halls of the Academy, her thoughts tangled. There was no mistaking what she'd seen in his eyes—want, raw and restrained. But he'd walked away.
As always.
And yet, his absence hadn't left a void this time.
It had been filled—unexpectedly—by Caelan.
He found her near the eastern gardens, a basket of early bloom research samples slung over his arm. He smiled in that easy way of his, not demanding, not pretending.
"Walk with me?" he asked.
She hesitated. Then nodded.
They strolled in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"I didn't."
He glanced at her. "Was it him?"
She didn't answer.
But she didn't have to.
Caelan's jaw tightened, just briefly, before he exhaled and offered her a soft smile. "You don't have to say anything. I get it. He's… difficult to ignore."
Evelyn stopped walking. "Why do you sound like you know him?"
Caelan hesitated.
Then, "Because I do."
She turned sharply. "What?"
"Not well. But enough. Our families crossed paths once—long ago. He was different then. Colder, maybe. Or… lonelier."
Evelyn blinked. "You knew him before all this?"
"I knew of him. And I know the kind of man who doesn't say what he wants until it's almost gone."
That struck something deep inside her.
Caelan offered her a flower from his basket—white, winter-bloomed, rare.
"Not everything has to be difficult, Evelyn," he said quietly.
She took the flower without thinking. Her fingers brushed his.
And across the courtyard, unseen by either of them, Alexander stood beneath the shadow of the archway—watching.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
But the look in his eyes was lethal.
Not with anger.
But with something far more dangerous.
Jealousy.
And the realization that he wasn't the only one falling.
He was already behind.