Chapter 11: Smoke Between Us
The air after the kiss was heavy—not with regret, but with everything unsaid.
Nova pulled back just slightly, her forehead resting against Bea's. "Did we just restart... or end everything we were trying to protect?"
Bea's fingers slid around Nova's wrist, anchoring them both. "We didn't end anything. We finally let the truth speak louder than fear."
But even as she said it, the quiet around them seemed too fragile to trust.
The storm outside had calmed, but inside, the wreckage of what they'd endured still echoed. Their connection was fire and ash—blinding when it burned, but leaving traces that clung to every breath.
Nova sat down beside Bea on the couch, curling into the silence they shared like it was an old blanket. "Remember when we first met? You walked into that underground gallery like you didn't belong there, but you owned the room."
Bea smiled softly. "I was pretending. Scared as hell. But you looked at me like you already knew I was a storm waiting to happen."
"I did," Nova whispered.
They sat there for a long while, the old clockless room letting them exist without ticking pressure. But time always finds a way to creep in—through scars, through memories, through knocks at the door.
Bang. Bang.
A firm knock echoed from the hallway.
Nova's eyes darted to the door. "Did you tell anyone where we'd be?"
Bea shook her head slowly.
Another knock. Louder. Then a voice—muffled, male, sharp. "Open up. I know she's in there."
Nova's breath caught. That voice. It belonged to a past she thought was long buried. One that still haunted the corners of her dreams.
Bea stood protectively in front of her. "Don't move."
The air changed. The room with no clocks suddenly remembered how to count time—each second laced with tension.
They weren't alone anymore.