Chapter 12
The Diner
The diner was warmer than the corridors, filled with steam, the scent of unfamiliar spices, and the low murmur of crew conversations.
Aelanna stayed close to Darren as they approached the food counter, her fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve, just…
anchoring herself, but she felt her caution like a raw wound.
She didn’t know how much her nerves were due to the crazy situation she found herself in, or him.
He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look down at her either, but she felt the awareness in him, as though her nearness altered the gravity around them. She wasn’t used to being noticed. Not like this, not by someone who seemed carved from duty and restraint.
The random thought popped into her mind how at her old job, she remembered being on the other side, serving customers rather than being a customer herself. She resisted a wave of homesickness. It was better to accept that her thoughts and emotions were all over the place.
The counter stretched before them, lined with trays of food that shimmered faintly under the lights. Some dishes steamed. Others glowed faintly blue. One pulsed, which she decided not to look at too closely.
Darren reached for a tray, then paused. “Do you have any allergies?”
She blinked. “No.”
“Dislikes?”
She looked up and down the display with confusion. “I don’t know what any of this is.”
His expression softened. “Then we’ll choose together.” He guided her along the counter, explaining quietly—this one was a grain similar to rice, that one a protein stew, the glowing dish was safe but “an acquired taste,” and the pulsing one was a delicacy he did not recommend for first-timers.
She found herself smiling. “You’re very patient.”
“I’m not,” he said, taking a plate and selecting the grain for her and ladled what looked like chicken stew on top. “Not usually.”
But he was with her and her food smelled divine. She felt his care for her in every assiduous movement.
They returned to the table where Kora and Lero were already mid-argument.
“It’s not that spicy,” Lero insisted, pushing a bowl toward her.
Kora sniffed it. Her eyes watered instantly. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“It is mild,” he repeated, affronted.
“Your definition of mild is a war crime.”
A muscle in Lero’s jaw clenched. “I am attempting to assist you.”
“By burning my tongue off?”
Aelanna hid a laugh behind her hand. Darren didn’t bother hiding his.
Across from them, Nayli was fussing over Blayze, who sat very still as she adjusted the collar of his uniform.
“It was crooked,” she said, smoothing it gently. “There. Much better.”
Blayze looked like he might faint. “Thank you.”
Nayli gave him an approving smile. “You’re welcome.”
Aelanna’s heart squeezed. They were all finding their footing in this strange new world. Kora with fire. Nayli with kindness. And her… with quiet steps and a heart that beat too fast whenever Darren was near.
She picked up her spoon, but her hand trembled. Darren noticed immediately.
“You’re still light-headed,” he murmured.
“A little.”
He shifted closer — not touching, but close enough that she felt steadier. “Is it good? If it’s not to your taste, I’ll get you something else.”
She nodded and took a small bite. The food was hot, comforting, and delicately flavored. “It’s good... delicious.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad.”
A soft chime sounded overhead. Crew members paused, glancing up. Darren stiffened beside her.
“What is that?” she whispered.
“A systems alert,” he said. “Not dangerous. Just—”
The lights flickered.
Kora froze mid-retort. Nayli’s hand tightened on Blayze’s sleeve. Aelanna’s pulse spiked.
Darren was already on his feet, scanning the room. “Stay seated.”
The lights steadied, but the hum of the engines shifted — subtle, but wrong. Aelanna felt it in her bones.
Darren tapped his comm. “Bridge, report.”
Static crackled. Then a voice: “Minor fluctuation in the forward stabilizers. Adjusting now.”
Darren’s jaw tightened. “Define minor.”
“Working on it,” the voice replied.
The lights stuttered again.
Aelanna’s breath caught. Darren turned to her instantly.
“You’re safe,” he said, voice low and steady. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her fear eased — not because the ship was stable, but because he was.
Kora stood abruptly. “Should we be worried?”
“No,” Darren said. “But stay close.”
Lero moved to Kora’s side, posture protective despite his scowl. Blayze shifted nearer to Nayli, who didn’t seem to mind at all.
Still seated, Aelanna looked up at Darren. “Is this normal?”
“Not ideal,” he admitted. “But manageable.”
The lights steadied. The hum returned to its usual rhythm. Crew members resumed their meals, though more quietly than before.
Darren exhaled slowly. “Stabilizers are correcting. The danger has passed.”
Aelanna let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
Darren sat beside her again, closer this time. “You handled that well.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You stayed calm,” he said. “That matters.”
She looked down at her shaking hands. “I wasn’t calm.”
“You were,” he said softly. “Braver than you think.”
Her cheeks heated. She wasn’t used to praise, especially not from someone who seemed to see straight through her.
She found his gaze. “Thank you.”
His own held hers—steady, unguarded for a heartbeat too long. Then he looked away, and said, “Finish your meal. We’ll return to your quarters soon.”
But she wasn’t thinking about food anymore. She was dreaming about the way he’d said you’re safe.
The tension in the diner eased as the lights steadied, but the air still felt charged, like the ship itself was holding its breath. Aelanna tried to focus on her food, but her gaze kept drifting to Nayli and Blayze across the table.
Nayli was fussing again.
She didn’t mean to. It was simply who she was — attentive, always noticing the small things others missed. And Blayze… Blayze responded to her like a plant leaning instinctively toward sunlight.
Aelanna hid her smile behind her cup. She wasn’t used to reading people so easily, but even she could see it: Nayli’s instinct to care, and Blayze’s instinct to melt under it, fit together like two pieces of a puzzle neither of them realised they were holding.
Nayli reached for the drink Blayze had brought her earlier — the one he’d chosen with such earnest uncertainty. She took a sip, then brightened.
“Oh! This one’s lovely.”
Blayze lit up. “Really?”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you for picking it.”
He looked like she’d handed him a medal. “I can bring you more. Or different ones. Or—”
“Blayze,” she said lightly, placing a hand on his forearm. “This is perfect.”
He went still again, eyes dropping to her hand as if it were the most precious thing in the galaxy.
Aelanna felt Darren shift beside her, and she glanced up to find him watching the exchange too; thoughtful, assessing, maybe even a little amused.
“They suit each other,” Aelanna murmured.
Darren nodded once. “They do.”
His voice was low and seductive. Inwardly, she gave herself a shake; she really shouldn’t be thinking like this.
Across the table, Nayli finally withdrew her hand, and Blayze exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for minutes.
Kora leaned back, smirking. “Well. That was adorable.”
Lero muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
Aelanna looked at Nayli—radiant, kind, utterly unaware of the effect she had—and then at Blayze, who was staring at his drink with the dazed reverence of someone who’d just glimpsed the divine.
Yes. They suited each other.
The diner gradually returned to its normal rhythm. When Darren rose, she followed unaware, her body attuned to his movements.
“We’ll head back,” he rumbled. “You should sleep.”
Kora and Nayli were still talking with Lero and Blayze, but Aelanna slipped away with Darren, grateful for the quieter corridor beyond the diner doors. The hum of the engines was steady now, comforting, almost like a heartbeat.
They walked side by side, not touching, but close enough that she felt his bodyheat through the air.
“Darren is a man’s name on Earth, too,” she told him, smiling up at him. She wanted to know more about him. He flicked a glance at her, quizzical.
“Really?”
“Why did your parents pick that name for you?”
He smiled back. “It’s been in my family for a long time. It doesn’t help that there were three males to name at once.” He chuckled and the look he gave her was full of intimacy.
“How did your parents choose three names at once?”
“It was my grandfather's name and his father before that. Lero was also a family name. Blayze was my father’s best friend.”
Parents. They were an unknown concept to Aelanna. The thought of two adults personally involved in her life and making decisions that affected her profoundly was a foreign concept to her, a life experience she’d never had. She shook the thought off as she did any idea she couldn’t cope with.
They walked in silence a short way, then he said, “There’s something I want to show you.”
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.
He nodded toward a branching corridor. “The observation gallery. It’s one of the safest places on the ship. And one of the most peaceful.”
Peaceful sounded perfect.
He led her down a dimmer hallway, the lights softening to a twilight glow. The door at the end slid open, revealing a long, curved room lined with transparent panels that looked out into the vastness of space.
Aelanna stopped, breath catching.
Stars. Endless stars. A river of light stretching into forever.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Darren watched her, not the view. “You can come here whenever you like. Day or night cycle. The gallery is always open.”
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“It helps some people feel calmer,” he said. “Especially on their first journey.”
She glanced at him. “Is the journey always like this?”
“Mostly.” He folded his hands behind his back, posture straight, voice steady. “A few stabilizer fluctuations. Routine checks. Nothing dangerous. You’re safe on this ship.”
Safe. The word settled over her like a warm blanket.
She stepped closer to the glass, watching a cluster of stars drift past. “Where are we going?”
He hesitated. Just a breath. But she felt it.
“Ohiri,” he said finally.
The name meant nothing to her, but the way he said it — flat, controlled — made her chest tighten. “How long will it take to get there?”
“Five days,” he said. “Six, if the wormhole lanes are congested.”
She turned to him. “What is Ohiri?”
His jaw tightened. “A planet.”
“Your planet?”
“No.”
The word was clipped, a door slammed shut.
Aelanna studied him — his rigid posture, the way his eyes stayed fixed on the stars instead of her, the tension in his shoulders. There was something he wasn’t saying. Something heavy.
“Darren…” she began softly.
He didn’t look at her. “We should return to your quarters.”
The shift in him was sudden, like a wall rising between them. She felt the loss of his earlier warmth like a physical ache.
She nodded, though her heart beat faster with questions she didn’t dare ask.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to walk ahead. She did, but not before glancing back at him — at the man who had held her steady during take-off, who had chosen the quietest table for her, who had said she was safe.
Now he stood in the starlight, expression unreadable, shadows carving sharp lines across his face.
Something was wrong.
Something he didn’t want her to know.
And as the door to the gallery slid shut behind them, Aelanna felt another layer of fear lay on top of the ship and of the journey into the unknown; that of the secrets Darren carried like armor.