Chapter 34 — Lines That Can't Be Unseen
The silence after those words lingered longer than either of them expected.
"We should keep doing that."
Kade replayed it in his head as he lay awake later that night, staring at the ceiling. Saying things out loud. Honest things. Dangerous things.
He turned slightly, glancing at the hallway that led to Kiera's room. The door was closed. It always was.
Respect the line, he reminded himself.
But lines had a way of blurring when feelings crept in.
The next morning, Kiera woke up unsettled.
Not from a nightmare this time—but from a strange calm. The kind that made her suspicious.
She dressed quietly and went to the kitchen, where she found Kade already there, coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up.
"You're up early," she said.
"You're up later than usual," he countered.
She smiled faintly. "Guess we both lost the sleep competition."
"Leo did too," he said, nodding toward the hallway. "He's sulking about math homework."
"Again?" she laughed.
"Apparently numbers are 'mean.'"
"They are," she agreed solemnly. "Very rude things."
Kade chuckled, then hesitated. "About yesterday—"
"I'm okay," she said quickly.
"I didn't ask that," he replied gently. "I wanted to know how you felt."
She paused, fingers tightening around the mug. "I felt… proud. Of myself."
His eyebrows lifted. "You should."
"I didn't shrink," she continued quietly. "I didn't apologize for existing. That's new for me."
He studied her face. "You're not small, Kiera. You were just taught to act like it."
She swallowed. "Vivienne knew exactly what to say."
"She always does," he said bitterly. "That's her talent."
"Do you ever wonder why you stayed with her so long?" Kiera asked carefully.
He didn't bristle. He considered.
"Yes," he said. "And I don't like the answer."
"What is it?"
"She was familiar," he admitted. "Cold. Controlled. Uncomplicated."
"And now?" she asked softly.
"Now nothing feels uncomplicated," he said, meeting her eyes. "And I don't want it to."
Their gaze held—too long.
Leo's door slammed open.
"I heard tension!" he announced.
Kiera burst out laughing. "You did not."
"I did!" Leo insisted. "Dad does that quiet voice when he's serious."
Kade sighed. "Traitor."
Leo grinned and ran off to grab his bag.
Kiera leaned closer to Kade. "He's very observant."
"He gets it from you," Kade said without thinking.
She froze.
"Sorry," he added quickly. "That came out wrong."
"No," she said softly. "It didn't."
That afternoon, after Leo was dropped off at school, Kade surprised her.
"I'm taking the day off," he said, grabbing his coat.
She blinked. "You don't… do that."
"I'm trying new things," he said lightly. "You want to come with me?"
Her heart skipped. "Where?"
"Anywhere public," he said. "No pressure."
She hesitated. "Like… coffee?"
"Exactly like coffee," he smiled.
They ended up in a quiet café downtown, tucked into a corner booth. It felt strange—being out with him like this. No job title. No labels.
Just them.
Kade watched her stir her drink absentmindedly. "You're nervous."
"I am," she admitted. "This feels… personal."
"It is," he said. "But it doesn't have to mean anything more than that."
She nodded. "Thank you for saying that."
After a moment, she asked, "Do you miss her?"
He didn't pretend. "I miss the idea of who I thought she was."
"Not her," Kiera said.
"No," he confirmed. "Not her."
She breathed out slowly. "I was scared you'd resent me."
"For what?" he asked.
"For being… the breaking point."
Kade shook his head. "You weren't the breaking point. You were the clarity."
Her eyes shimmered. "That's a heavy thing to carry."
"I know," he said. "And I'm not putting it on you. This was my choice."
A woman at the next table glanced their way, whispering.
Kiera stiffened. "People are staring."
"They always do," he said casually.
"I'm not used to that."
"I can leave," he offered.
"No," she said quickly. "I don't want to run."
His lips curved into a proud smile. "Good."
Later that evening, Vivienne's name appeared on Kade's phone.
He stared at it for a long moment before answering.
"What do you want?" he asked flatly.
"You didn't return my calls," Vivienne snapped.
"Because I didn't want to," he replied.
A pause. Then a cold laugh. "You're really doing this."
"Yes," he said. "I am."
"You think she's different?" Vivienne said. "She'll leave. They always do."
"Don't talk about her," Kade warned.
"Oh, so now she matters?" Vivienne mocked. "Tell me—does she know about your anger? Your control issues?"
"She knows I'm trying," he said. "And that's more than you ever cared about."
Silence.
Then, venomously, "You'll regret choosing her."
"I already regret choosing you," he said—and ended the call.
Kiera found him later, standing by the window, phone clenched in his hand.
"She called," he said.
Kiera nodded. "I guessed."
"She tried to scare me."
"Did it work?"
"No," he said. "Because I finally see her clearly."
She walked closer. "And me?"
He turned to her, eyes intense. "You scare me too."
Her breath caught. "In a bad way?"
"In a way that makes me careful," he said. "And honest."
She nodded. "Good. I don't want reckless."
"Neither do I."
They stood there, the city glowing beneath them, a fragile understanding settling between their hearts.
Nothing was defined.
Nothing was promised.
But something had undeniably shifted.
And once seen, it couldn't be unseen.