Nevio's pov
“Ayla, are you okay? Do you need anything?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to keep it together.
My fingers itched to pull her into my arms, but I didn’t want to scare her—not now, not after all these years.
Her eyes flicked between us, wide and uncertain, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. “Ne—vio?” she said slowly, tilting her head. “Or are you Nestore?”
I almost smiled. That shaky, broken voice. The way she said my name—it damn near undid me.
“It’s Nevio,” I said gently, crouching in front of her. “It’s me, Ayla. Nevio. That’s Nestore,” I added, nodding towards Nestore.
She looked at Nestore, then back at me. Something flickered in her expression. Recognition. Maybe doubt. Maybe both.
“Your voice,” she whispere
