The fire had long died out, but the heat lingered on their skin. Not from the flames—but from everything that had passed between them. Every word. Every memory they refused to keep quiet any longer.
They stood in the dark behind the storage unit, the smell of smoke clinging to their clothes, their hands still loosely joined like they were afraid to let go and lose each other again.
Nova took a breath. "That was the last of him."
Bea turned to her, the light from a distant streetlamp catching in her eyes. "No. That was just the beginning of us."
The wind picked up, brushing strands of Nova's hair across her cheek. She didn't move them. She just stood there, feeling everything.
"I want to disappear with you," Nova said suddenly.
Bea's eyes flicked up. "Disappear?"
Nova nodded. "Not run. Not hide. Just… disappear into a version of life that's ours. No ghosts. No old names. No one watching, waiting for us to fall."
Bea was silent for a moment. Then she reached up and gently moved the hair from Nova's face.
"Then let's vanish," she whispered. "But not like people who are afraid. Let's vanish like stars at dawn—only because we've already lit up the night."
Nova's heart squeezed. Hard.
Bea always knew what to say. Always.
---
Three Days Later
They left the city.
Not with a bang—but with a soft closing of a door and the press of tires against wet pavement.
The rain came down in quiet waves as they drove, neither speaking much. They didn't need to. Their silence was filled with shared songs, half-glances, and the occasional squeeze of fingers over the center console.
They found a place two towns over. An old house with cracked paint and a backyard full of wildflowers and forgotten dreams. The kind of place no one would look for them—but that felt like it had been waiting.
They cleaned. They painted. They burned sage and lit candles and started a wall of color-coded sticky notes—each one a step toward the life they wanted.
Red: Things to Forget
Blue: Things to Heal
Gold: Things to Dream
Under gold, Bea added:
"Start a community gallery for survivors."
Nova added:
"Publish our story. Tell the truth. All of it."
---
Late One Night
Bea sat at the window, legs tucked beneath her, sketching on a scrap of parchment. She didn't hear Nova come in, barefoot and wearing nothing but a long shirt and a halo of candlelight.
"You're always drawing," Nova whispered, her voice soft.
Bea looked up. "You're always watching."
Nova came closer. "Can I see?"
Bea turned the paper.
It was them.
Not a perfect portrait—but a storm of lines and shadows and firelight. Two figures, back to back, holding hands, their hair blowing in the same direction.
"You drew us as wind," Nova whispered.
"No," Bea said. "I drew us as the storm that survived itself."
Nova dropped to her knees beside her, pressed her forehead to Bea's.
"Will we ever be normal?"
Bea kissed her cheek. "No. We'll be better than normal. We'll be free."
They stayed that way—until the candle melted down.
---
Somewhere Far Away
Cassian stared at the news clipping on his desk. It was a gallery opening in a quiet town, featuring survivor art. A local couple had started it—two women. Their names weren't printed.
But he knew.
His lip curled, his fist tightening on the page.
"You're not done with me yet," he muttered.
But far away, behind warm windows and soft laughter, Nova and Bea were already writing the next chapter—one he'd never be part of.
One lit not by fear…
…but by firelight and love