Touched by Smoke

Chapter 6

Elara

The fact that last night Adam asked me to stay—without me even making a move—is a huge step forward. I notice he's still holding my hand, as if trying to make sure I'm not a mirage. That I'm real. I gently slip my palm from his and hear him mumbling something I can't quite make out.

I quietly get out of bed, careful not to startle him, and leave the room to make breakfast. I see my phone on the kitchen counter and decide to send my mother yet another lie.

**Me:** *I stayed over at Lidya’s. I’ll be home soon.*

I hit send, then get to work. Adam is a man who believes he's cursed, because—from what I gathered from the fragments he’s shared in the past few days—he’s the only survivor.

I want to prove him wrong. And I won’t stop until he understands that he deserves to live, not just exist. It’s going to be a long road, considering the demons that devour him every second, but I’m not giving up.

I start to toast some slices of bread, put coffee on the stove, and crack two eggs into a pan. The sizzle of hot oil fills the house with a familiar scent. It’s hard to explain why my heart is pounding just because I slept in the same bed as him. Nothing happened, and yet... for me, it was a beginning. For him, maybe just a break from the nightmares.

As I wait for the eggs to cook, I glance toward the bedroom door. No sound. No movement. Part of me is anxious, but another part... is calm. Maybe for the first time since I met him, I feel like he’s not on the edge of the cliff anymore. At least not entirely.

I sit at the table and start slicing some tomatoes when I hear him behind me. He walks slowly, as if afraid to disturb the air. His hair is messy, and his gaze still foggy—but he’s here. In the kitchen. With me.

—You're here, he says, as if he can’t believe it’s actually true.

—Of course I am. I spent the night here, remember? I say, amused by how confused he seems.

Does he really think I’m not real? Does he really believe it’s impossible for me to be here, that all of this is just in his head?

—No... I mean yes, I know you were here. But... I don’t know, it just... feels unreal. Like I dreamed you. Like everything that happened is a dream that ended too well. And my life doesn’t have good dreams. Ever.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, his gaze lost in the steam rising from the coffee.

I move closer to him and place my hand over his. His skin is cold and rough, but he doesn’t pull away. He stays there, and that gives me courage.

—I’m not a dream, Adam. I’m here. With you. And not because I pity you, but because I want to be. Because I see something in you that you’ve forgotten exists.

He slowly turns his head toward me, and in his eyes, I see a war. A thirst to believe what I’m saying—but also a deep fear that if he does, everything might fall apart.

—Don’t idealize me, Elara. I’m nothing like what you imagine. I’m more darkness than light. And what you’ve seen so far... is just the surface.*

—*Then let me see more. Let me descend into your darkness, if that’s what it takes to truly know you.

Adam suddenly stands from the chair and paces a few steps across the kitchen. He clenches his jaw, then stops.

—If you go in there... if you go into what I truly am, you won’t come out the same. And neither will I.

I stand and walk toward him, despite the walls that seem to rise between us with every word he speaks.

—If that’s the price I have to pay to help you, I’ll pay it with a smile.

He stares at me for a long moment, and then—for the first time—he lets the silence wrap around us without breaking it with cynicism. And that silence is a beginning.

But then something changes again. Something that scares me.

Adam blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off an image that’s just invaded his mind. He brings a hand to his temple and sways slightly, like he’s been hit by something invisible.

.