The silence after felt heavier than the moment itself.
Lyra pulled back first, not because she wanted distance, but because her chest felt too full—like if she stayed there any longer, something inside her would spill over. She wrapped her arms around herself, grounding.
Kael noticed immediately.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Did I do something wrong?"
She shook her head too fast. "No. I just—" She struggled, biting her lip. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel after something like that."
"That's okay," he replied. "You don't have to know."
She looked up at him then, eyes searching. "But you do know, don't you?"
Kael hesitated.
That pause—small, almost invisible—did more damage than any harsh word could have.
"I have more experience," he admitted carefully. "Yes."
Lyra's stomach twisted, not with jealousy, but with sudden awareness. The innocence she carried so lightly now felt exposed, like she'd stepped into a room where everyone else already knew the rules.
"Oh," she said softly.
He reached for her again but stopped halfway, catching himself. "Lyra… listen to me. I don't want to rush you into something just because I understand it better."
"But I wasn't rushed," she said quickly, almost defensively. "I wanted it."
"I know." His voice softened. "That's exactly why we slow down."
She frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
Kael gave a small, humorless smile. "It will. Eventually."
The frustration surprised her. "Why do you always decide things like that?" she asked. "Like you're protecting me from something I didn't even ask to be protected from."
"Because if this keeps going," he said quietly, "it won't stay simple."
Her breath caught. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he said honestly. "It's a dangerous one."
That word lingered between them.
Dangerous.
Lyra stepped back, crossing her arms. "So what are we doing then? Pretending nothing is happening?"
Kael exhaled slowly. "We acknowledge it. And we don't let it control us."
"And if it already is?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer right away. That told her everything.
A knock suddenly sounded at the door—sharp, intrusive. Reality crashing in.
Kael stiffened. "That'll be trouble," he muttered.
Lyra glanced between him and the door, her heart still racing, emotions tangled and unresolved. "So this is what you meant," she said. "About things not staying simple."
He met her gaze. "Exactly."
As he turned to answer the knock, Lyra realized something unsettling.
This wasn't just attraction anymore.
It was tension.
Timing.
Consequences.
And whatever stood on the other side of that door was about to test how strong—or fragile—this slow burn really was.