{Kai}
The restaurant was quiet by design: low light, muted music, space measured carefully between tables. Kai arrived early, seating himself with his back to the room out of habit more than thought. He watched the door, noting the slight shifts in shadows, the subtle movements of waitstaff. His attention tightened on the smallest details.
At eight sharp, she entered.
Kai rose immediately, pulling out her chair before she could hesitate. The movement was smooth, controlled, deliberate.
"You look less like you are running today," he said.
Her fingers tightened briefly around the table edge. "I am not."
"Good," he replied. "People who run usually leave things unfinished."
Her gaze held his, searching. The faint tilt of her head, the curve of her eyebrows he catalogued every signal.
"What do you want from me?"
The question struck deeper than accusation would have. He felt it ripple through the quiet room, altering the air between them.
"I want to understand," Kai said, leaning back slightly, studying her without disguise, "why a seventeen-year-old girl arrives in London alone, flinches at raised voices, and lives like she is waiting to disappear."
Her breath caught. The subtle tremor of her fingers told him more than her words ever could.
"You have been watching me."
"Yes," he said. "Because you matter more than you realize."
The chair scraped softly as she stood abruptly. "You do not get to decide that."
Kai did not rise. His posture remained steady, eyes sharp, a silent challenge threading through the space between them. "Neither did the people who decided your future for you."
Color drained from her face. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, framing her vulnerability in a way that made his pulse tighten.
"How do you know that?" she whispered, voice shaking.
He rose then, closing the distance just enough to make her pulse betray her. Every inch measured. Every heartbeat catalogued.
"Because I recognize survival," he said quietly. "And because truth leaves marks, even when it is buried."
Her hands clenched briefly, a gesture almost invisible, yet he noticed.
"I will not be controlled again," she said, voice quivering.
His expression softened, just slightly. "Then don't be."
She left moments later, hands trembling, her retreat leaving a faint echo of tension in the air. Kai remained standing for a heartbeat longer, noting the slight lift of her chin, the way she had carried herself in spite of everything.
***
Back in his suite, Kai loosened his tie slowly. City lights blinked steadily outside, indifferent and endless.
She had accepted the invitation. She had sat across from him. She had looked at him without recognition.
This was not loss. It was worse.
It was beginning again without permission.
Control might not be enough. Truth would cost more.
And he knew, with a precision that unsettled him, that nothing in this city or in her would be simple ever again.