Chapter 5 #2
And Selene is staring up at me.
Here it comes. The judgment. The realization that she’s been spending time with someone who can’t even handle a fake house haunting without losing his composure. What would she do if she knew I was trying to meet with Rist, trying to…
Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, gentle and warm.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay?”
I can’t speak. My throat has closed up with shame and embarrassment and the overwhelming certainty that I’ve just destroyed whatever fragile connection we had.
“Khatak.” Her thumb strokes across my cheekbone. “Talk to me.”
“I’m not...” The words stick. I force them out anyway. “I’m not a warrior.”
It comes out barely above a whisper, but it feels like shouting my deepest shame. From my father to his father, and his before that… we are warriors, protecting those around us. At least, we are meant to be.
Until me. I broke the cycle, the family legacy. I can’t protect anyone.
Selene’s expression doesn’t change. No disgust. No disappointment. Just that same gentle concern.
“I know,” she says simply.
I blink at her. “You... know?”
“Of course I know. You think I haven’t noticed?” She smiles, and there’s something unbearably tender in it. “You’re not trying to prove how tough you are. You’re not posturing or showing off. You’re just... you. Honestly, unapologetically you.”
“But I—” I gesture helplessly at the room, at myself, at the evidence of my complete failure. “I screamed. Like a—”
“Like someone who got genuinely startled?” She’s still touching my face, her fingers impossibly soft against my skin. “Khatak, that’s the whole point of a haunted house. It’s supposed to be scary.”
“Volscians are supposed to be fearless. Warriors who—”
“Aren’t you supposed to be just yourself?”
The question stops me cold.
“I...” I don’t have an answer. My whole life, I’ve been trying to be what my family wanted, what my brother embodied so effortlessly. A protector.
And I’ve failed. Every time. Because I’m not any of those things.
I’m just... me.
“I like you,” Selene continues, and my heart forgets how to beat.
“Not the warrior you’re trying to be. Not whatever version you think you should be.
Just... you. The person who carves happy faces on pumpkins.
Who gets soaking wet catching fruit. Who admits when he’s scared instead of pretending he isn’t. ”
“Why?” The question bursts out of me. “Why would you like that? I have nothing to offer. I’m not successful, I’m not impressive, I’m not—“
“Stop.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t value.”
“Every day, I’m forced to spend so much time with people who hide what they’re really thinking,” she continues quietly.
“All the aliens around us… they’re always wearing poker masks and keeping me guessing about their real motives.
I can’t ever trust if they are talking to me just because they are friendly, or if they want something more.
You’re just... honest. Real. And that’s worth more to me than anything. ”
I swallow, hard. Guilt threatens to choke me. Because isn’t that kind of what I’ve been doing—trying to get close to her, to impress her, so she’d recommend me to Rist? When did this become about something else—about seeing her smile?
“I’m telling you right now—I like what I see. All of it. Especially the parts you think are failures.”
She’s still pressed against me, her hand still on my face, looking up at me like I’m someone to admire instead of something disappointing.
How is this possible? How can she see all my inadequacies, all my failures, all the ways I don’t measure up—and still be standing here, choosing to be close to me?
Something in my chest cracks. Not painfully. Like ice breaking up in the spring, like something frozen finally beginning to thaw.
She chose me. She’s choosing me right now. Not despite my failures—she’s choosing me with them, maybe even because of them.
My watch comm vibrates.
I don’t even have to look. I know what it is. A reminder. Thirty minutes until the meeting with Rist.
Thirty minutes until I have to leave her to go prove myself. And to whom? People who’ve never cared about me. Who sent me on this mission because I’m forgettable, expendable. Who will probably barely acknowledge the alliance even if I succeed.
Would I even make a difference? My father won’t suddenly love me. My brother won’t suddenly respect me. Success won’t magically transform me into someone they value. Someone else will come along and achieve everything I’ve spent years striving for, and probably in a matter of days instead.
But Selene...
Selene sees me. The real me. And she values what she sees.
What if impressing people who don’t care about me doesn’t matter?
What if she—right now, right here—matters more?
The realization hits me like a physical thing, stealing my breath.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to earn love that was never going to be freely given. Chasing approval from people who will never see me as anything but a disappointment. Believing that I had to accomplish something, achieve something, be something before I deserved to be chosen.
But Selene chose me. When I was dripping wet and embarrassed. When I carved the “wrong” pumpkin. When I screamed in a haunted house.
She chose me.
I look down at her—at this incredible woman who somehow sees value in all the things I’ve been taught to hide, who finds my vulnerabilities endearing instead of shameful.
To hell with the alliance.
To hell with proving myself to people who will never care.
To hell with my father and my brother and the entire weight of family expectations that’s been crushing me my whole life.
I want this. I want her.
Without a word, I cup her face in both hands and kiss her.