Back in England — Ocean & Emry
Ocean arrived early.
She chose a corner table by the window—visible enough to feel normal, private enough to think. The café hummed softly, London muted by drizzle and steam, the kind of place where decisions could pretend to be casual.
Her phone rang.
She didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Father," she said evenly.
"Where are you?" he asked, brisk, already multitasking.
"Out," Ocean replied. "Meeting a colleague."
A pause. Calculating.
"From where?"
"University," she said. Not a lie. Just incomplete.
Another beat. Then, "Don't be long."
The call ended.
Ocean exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around her cup.
Almost immediately, her phone lit up again.
Emry:I'll be there in a few.
Something in her chest loosened—not relief exactly, but resolve.
She set the phone face down just as the door opened.
The café was quiet in a way London cafés rarely allowed—music low, voices careful, steam rising between cups like something private.
Ocean wrapped her hands around her mug, pretending the warmth was enough to settle her nerves.
"You didn't have to come," she said softly as Emry sat across from her.
He smiled—not practiced, not certain. Just honest.
"I know," he replied. "But I wanted to choose it."
The word lingered between them.
For a moment, they watched the world move past the windows—coats, umbrellas, lives continuing uninterrupted.
"I think about you more than I should," Emry said at last. "And every time I do, I pull back. Because your father—"
"—doesn't leave room for accidents," Ocean finished quietly. "He turns people into leverage."
Emry nodded. "I won't be turned into a condition attached to you."
Ocean studied him then. Not for intent, but for absence—for what he wasn't trying to take.
"That's why I said yes to coffee," she said. "You didn't arrive with a claim."
His shoulders eased. "I don't want to trap you."
She smiled—small, knowing. "I don't think you could. And that matters more than you realize."
Their fingers brushed across the table—unplanned, hesitant, real.
Neither of them reached further.
And somewhere else in the world, Amaiyla would feel the lack of that kind of choice like a bruise—tender, unseen, and slow to fade.
Paris — Amaiyla & Ocean
(The Sister Call)
Amaiyla stood just inside the estate gates, gravel cool beneath her shoes, Paris humming beyond the walls like a life she wasn't quite touching. She pressed the phone closer to her ear.
"I'm proud of you," she said softly.
Ocean laughed. "For drinking overpriced coffee?"
"For choosing," Amaiyla replied.
The line went quiet.
"He makes me feel safe," Ocean admitted at last. "Not managed. Not handled. Just… seen."
Amaiyla closed her eyes.
"That's rare," she said. "Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
Ocean hesitated. "You don't sound jealous."
"I'm not," Amaiyla said. "I'm relieved."
A breath on the other end.
"What about you?" Ocean asked carefully. "Are you okay?"
Amaiyla's gaze drifted toward the estate windows—toward the man inside who moved like a locked door pretending to be a wall.
"He doesn't make me feel safe," she said quietly. "He makes me feel inevitable."
Ocean didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Paris - Xander & Amaiyla
(Cracks in Control)
"You're distracted," Xander said, watching her pace the length of the room.
"I'm thinking," Amaiyla snapped.
"Yes," he replied calmly. "Just not carelessly."
She stopped short. "Do you hear yourself?"
He did.
That was the problem.
Laughter floated up from the courtyard below—male, unguarded. Xander's jaw tightened before he could correct it.
Amaiyla noticed.
"You don't like it when other men exist near me," she said quietly.
"I don't like unpredictability," he answered too fast.
She stepped closer. Close enough that his control had to choose between retreat and honesty.
"You don't get to lie to me," she said, "and call it protection."
Silence stretched—measured, dangerous.
"This isn't about jealousy," Xander said finally.
"But it feels like ownership," Amaiyla replied.
For the first time, he didn't have a clean counter.
Paris -Tammy Veraga Arrives
(The Friendly Threat)
Tammy met Amaiyla in the garden as if by coincidence.
Warm smile. Neutral posture. Timing so precise it felt deliberate.
"I was hoping to meet you," Tammy said lightly. "Xander speaks very… carefully about you."
Amaiyla stiffened. "That sounds like him."
Tammy laughed—soft, charming. Disarming by design.
"I thought we might get along."
Amaiyla studied her. Measured the ease. The confidence.
"I don't make friends easily," she said.
"I know," Tammy replied without missing a beat. "That's why I asked."
Their gazes held—one assessing, one cataloguing.
Somewhere inside the estate, Xander felt something shift.
Not danger.
Awareness.
Ending Beat — Alignment Without Confession
That night, Amaiyla lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Xander stood at the window, city lights reflected in the glass.
Elsewhere—
Ocean chose gently.Emry waited patiently.Tammy watched carefully.
And Amaiyla understood something that tightened her chest:
Xander wasn't the cage.
He was the lock.
And without realizing it—
She was already holding the key.