Raven's POV :
Later that night, after the laughter dulled and the house fell quiet, I found her in my room.
Elena sat cross-legged on my bed, flipping through an old sketchbook like she hadn't just bulldozed through my life a few hours ago. She looked up when I walked in. Her eyes softened like they always did when she saw me tired.
"You good?" she asked.
I nodded, then shook my head. "No. Not really."
That got her attention.
She closed the book, patted the spot beside her, and waited.
I sat. Not too close. But not far either.
And then I told her.
Told her about him—my brother. How his laughter had gotten quieter. How the calls stopped sounding like home. How the last thing he ever left me was a letter, smudged with water or tears or both. Explaining the debt. The desperation. The way Kairus had offered a solution—marry me, and the debt disappears.
"I said yes," I whispered. "Because what else could I do? My brother was gone. I had no one. And Kairus…"
I trailed off.
Elena didn't interrupt. Just listened. Just held space.
She stayed silent, letting the weight settle between us.
"And then..." I swallowed hard. "His father—Kairus'—told me one day that once the contract ends, I'll be discarded. Like a broken toy."
Something in me cracked then. Not loudly. But deeply.
"Everything just happened so fast," I whispered. "I didn't have time to choose anything. Not grief. Not healing. Not even this marriage."
The silence stretched. Elena reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. Her fingers were warm, grounding.
"Rae," she said, gentle but piercing, "do you love him?"
The question stilled me.
Love?
I didn't speak right away. Just sat there, letting the word wrap around my ribs like barbed wire.
"I don't..." My voice faltered. "No."
But even to my own ears, it didn't sound convincing.
I shook my head again, slower this time. A breath that didn't quite reach my lungs.
"It's not love. It can't be. How could I love a man who offered marriage like a business deal? Who never looked at me like a person—only a solution. How could I love someone who doesn't even know what love is?"
The truth was—I didn't know if I was trying to convince her, or myself.
Elena didn't say anything. Just pulled me in, arms wrapping around me like a blanket I didn't know I needed.
"You don't have to know right now," she murmured into my hair. "You don't owe anyone anything. Not grief. Not forgiveness. Not even clarity."
I let myself lean in. Just for a moment. Just enough to let my guard drop.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "I've got you."
And for the first time in a long time—I believed her.
Kairus' POV :
I wasn't trying to listen.
The hallway was just quiet. Too quiet. Their voices spilled under the door, muffled at first, but her voice—Raven's—cut through eventually.
I stayed still. Maybe I was waiting to hear her say something else. Maybe I was hoping to hear something different.
But what I heard instead—
It's not love. It can't be.
She said it so softly. But it hit like a blow to the chest.
Something cracked inside me. Not all at once. Just enough to feel it.
She's right, I told myself.
Of course she's right.
This isn't love. It never was. Just a deal. A contract. An arrangement where I benefit, and she survives.
That was all it ever was.
That was all it had to be.
I repeated the words like a mantra. Like armor.
But the echo that answered back was hollow.
---
The next morning, Elena left with her usual brightness, hugging Raven tight, whispering something only besties could understand.
Raven smiled through it—tired, sad, but softer than I'd seen her in days.
She lingered at the door after Elena was gone, her fingers brushing the edge of the wood like she was still holding onto something.
I stood at the bottom of the staircase, unsure why I hadn't already turned away. I never stayed this long. I never watched her this long.
Her eyes met mine. She blinked, startled.
I didn't know why I said it. Maybe the silence got to me. Or maybe the part of me that overheard her last night still ached, needing something—anything.
So I asked, quietly, unexpectedly,
"...Want to drink with me?"
Her brows lifted in surprise. Mine too, honestly.
My voice had come out softer than I meant. Almost boyish. Like someone I hadn't been in a long time.
She blinked, unsure. "Now?"
I nodded once. "Now."
A pause.
Then, slowly, she stepped toward me.
And for the first time in this cold, calculated arrangement…
I didn't feel like the one in control.
The glass felt too warm in my hand.
Or maybe my skin was too cold.
I took another sip anyway—third, fourth, maybe fifth. I'd lost count. The liquor bit less now. Or maybe I just stopped caring.
Across from me, Raven sat like she belonged there. Comfortable. Effortless. Her legs were tucked beneath her, glass held loosely in her hand, eyes watching me with that signature stillness that always made me feel seen—sometimes more than I wanted.
And she—
She was barely flushed.
I, on the other hand, could feel the burn climbing up my neck. My face felt hot. My thoughts, slower. Everything around her too soft, too close. Her scent. Her laugh. The shape of her mouth as she teased me.
"You alright?" she asked, eyes glinting, amused.
I blinked. Twice.
And then I smiled.
Not my usual kind—the sharp, calculated one. This was something else. Slower. Crooked. Unfamiliar on my own damn face.
"I think I underestimated you," I said, voice coming out lower, softer than I meant. "You hold your liquor… better than me."
She raised her glass in mock salute. "Apparently."
But my eyes didn't leave her. Couldn't.
God.
The curve of her cheek. The way she moved. The way she looked at me without flinching, without fear. There was something cruel about how gentle she could be. How violently she bloomed inside my silence.
I was drunk.
Not on the whiskey.
On her.
And maybe that was why I said it.
Or maybe I just wanted to.
"You're beautiful," I breathed.
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Soft. Honest. Undeniable.
She stilled.
And for a moment, everything did. The room. The air. Time itself.
But I didn't take it back. Didn't even look away.
Because she wasn't just the girl I made a deal with anymore.
She was the fire I drank willingly.
And she—
She didn't look away either.