The decision to join the Nexus Lab trial wasn't an ending; it was a transition into a new kind of purgatory. The "miracle" didn't happen overnight. Instead, Julian and Clara found themselves entering a world of sterile rooms, endless blood draws, and the heavy, metallic taste of experimental prep-drugs.
"The protocol is simple," Dr. Vance explained, her voice devoid of the warmth Julian usually looked for in a collaborator. "But the biology is stubborn. We aren't just treating a symptom; we are attempting to edit the very language of your compatibility."
Clara sat on the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath her. She felt less like an archivist and more like a specimen. Julian stood by the window, his eyes tracing the construction cranes in the distance. He was used to managing projects with clear timelines and stress-tested materials. Here, the material was the woman he loved, and the stress test was her sanity.
"We begin the hormonal synchronization tomorrow," Vance continued. "Julian, your role is supportive but critical. We need to monitor your markers as well. If your levels spike, the viral vectors won't take."
The "Covenant" was signed not just in ink, but in the lifestyle changes that followed. No alcohol, restricted travel, and a rigorous schedule of injections that turned their bathroom vanity into a pharmacy. The romance that had once been defined by candlelight and architectural theory was now defined by the sting of a needle and the timing of a cycle.
"Do you think we're losing ourselves in this?" Clara asked that night, her voice small in the darkness of the loft. "I look at you and I don't see my architect anymore. I see a man counting my pills."
Julian turned to her, his hand finding hers in the space between them. "I'm still the architect, Clara. I'm just building a foundation that's invisible to the eye. This is the hardest project I've ever taken on, but it's the only one that matters."
But the strain was showing. The city felt smaller, the walls of the loft closing in as they withdrew from a social circle that didn't understand why they were suddenly "too busy" for dinner parties or firm events. They were becoming ghosts in their own lives, haunting the corridors of the Nexus Lab.