He pressed send, then turned back to the window, watching his reflection in the darkened glass. The man looking back was unreadable, controlled, powerful, everything he'd built himself to be after his own destruction and rebirth.
But beneath that carefully constructed exterior lay memories of a hospital room. Of gentle hands changing bandages. Of a quiet voice reading when pain kept him awake. Of kindness offered without expectation of return.
His phone chimed with a response from Camille: *How do you always know?*
Alexander smiled slightly, typing his reply: *The same way I know when the wind changes direction or the tide turns. Some forces can be felt rather than seen.*
Her response came quickly: *You're a mystery I don't have time to solve right now.*
*Yet solve me you will, one da
