He came back four nights later.
In the days between, Wren had tested the revelation from every angle and found no version that improved it. Caelum had known her name. He had hesitated. He had signed. The sequence was clean enough to survive every excuse she could imagine for him.
That knowledge changed the bond without weakening it. The pull remained, but shame no longer belonged entirely to her. Her body could continue recognizing him; she did not have to mistake recognition for absolution.
Wren heard the service door before it opened. She was at the stock station, skimming the overnight pot, and she did not turn. The bond confirmed him first: warmth settling beneath her ribs with the pressure of a bruise when the weather changed.
Caelum entered at 2:17 in the morning.
She knew the t
