(Daciana POV)
Conri’s words loosened something inside me, not enough to heal, but enough to let me breathe without tasting smoke.
I wanted to thank him, but gratitude felt too small for the way he had named the storm without trying to own it.
“You make dangerous things sound simple,” I said.
Conri’s smile faded, and the air between us changed before he spoke again.
“Nothing about you is simple, Daciana,” he said, and the softness in his voice made my heart stumble.
I looked away, suddenly too aware of the garden, the moon, his nearness, and my own tired need for one place that did not hurt.
“You should not look at me like that,” I said, though I hated how weak the warning sounded.
“Like what?” he asked, but his voice told me he knew.
“Like I am not broken,” I answered.
Conri step
