“It’s true,” Kafziel muttered after a long pause, his voice quieter now, almost ashamed. “But… I think I was just dead drunk when I saw one.”
Aniela flinched as his grip tightened suddenly around her wrist. The pressure startled her, sharp and grounding. “Kafziel,” she said, wincing slightly, “you’re hurting me.” Her voice wasn’t angry—just honest, edged with concern.
He immediately realized what he was doing and loosened his hold, his fingers pulling away like he’d touched fire. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m serious, though. I don’t expect you to believe me. Just… humor me. At least that.”
“Okay,” Aniela said after a moment, her voice steadier than her thoughts. She pulled her wrist back and gently touched it, noticing fai
