Chapter 35
I blushed at how suggestive that phrase sounded.
But I forgot all about my embarrassment when we stepped out of the elevator into the night garden.
Lush vegetation spread through the mountain’s alcove, a vivid green bursting with thousands of flowers in every color.
The whole space was beautifully designed, and the mingled scents of roses, lisianthus, and lilies made the air impossibly sweet.
Light sconces lined the entire path, and the flowering trees sparkled with thousands of tiny lights wound around their branches.
Zion pressed his palm to the small of my back, guiding me through a maze of low shrubs to a table on a wooden deck near the balcony.
“Now I understand why Ambrose always brought Lorenzo here,” I said.
“Because of the garden?” Zion asked, pulling out the chair for me.
“No. Because of the romance.”
Decks dotted the garden, and I spotted a few couples’ heads among the illuminated vegetation, but none were sitting near the edge where we’d chosen to stay.
The view from our table was incredible—we could take in the city lights, Canoa Lake below, and the three walls.
The waiter approached with the menu, and we quickly placed our order.
When he left, I leaned back in my chair and smiled at Zion, satisfied with the atmosphere.
“Have you heard the results of my test with the Sonar?” I asked excitedly. This would be my opening to unload everything.
“Who hasn’t? I think all of Jupiter knows by now! It was no surprise to me that your level was special—I saw what you’re capable of when you healed the students during training.”
“You’re exaggerating. I never faced a big challenge during training.”
“Are we exaggerating about Kaori’s case?
” Zion asked, arching an eyebrow. Then he smiled, satisfied with my silence.
It was the most open and genuinely sincere smile I’d ever seen him give.
“Would it be exaggerating to repeat what all the other doctors are saying: you were perfect, creative, and brilliantly precise during the surgery?”
I felt awkward and took a sip of the water the waiter had set in front of us.
“I can’t argue with that. I have to admit I did really well with the reconstruction, but we shouldn’t celebrate yet—Ambrose hasn’t confirmed the test results, and the patient is still unconscious.
It’s been three hours since I finished the surgery, and no one’s sent any news about the case. I’m getting worried.”
“We should celebrate just because she’s alive!
You have no idea how relieved I am, Kay.
I really thought she wasn’t going to survive.
When I saw the extent of the damage, I thought she’d be dead before she even reached the base.
” Zion seemed a bit anxious, and a shadow of sadness crossed his gaze, leaving the tendrils on alert.
“But you performed a miracle. I’m so proud I don’t even know how to react.
You haven’t even graduated yet, and you’ve already surpassed Ambrose’s intelligence and level. You’re becoming a brilliant doctor.”
“I’m nowhere near Ambrose’s level, but I appreciate the compliment.”
Zion was starting to make me feel awkward with all that attention. He’d always been critical during training sessions, and being praised by him left me at a loss for what to do. It stirred something deep in me, tying my brain in knots.
“No, you really were wonderful. I hadn’t realized the full extent of your abilities until today. I want you to know that I admire you greatly—not just for the magnitude of your gift, but for your intelligence, resilience, and ability to handle a tense situation like that.”
I stared at my hands on the table, and when a tear threatened to fall, I looked around. I fixed my gaze on the moon, which hung enormous over the city, its light gleaming on the lake below.
“Kyller?” he called. I looked everywhere except at him, wishing my eyes would stay dry and that he wouldn’t see me like this. “Why are you sad?” he asked, worried. “Did I say something wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” I replied, finally facing him, but the traces of tears were still there.
“How can it be nothing if you’re almost crying?”
I just stared at him, thinking about everything he was saying. I must have taken too long, because he started getting restless in his chair.
“It’s just that... your recognition means a lot to me,” I confessed before I lost the courage.
“I spent five years specializing and trying to become better...” So that he would admire me, so that he wouldn’t see me as a waste of time.
But I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud—I was already embarrassed for continuing to expose my feelings.
“I clung to my gift and what it meant for good in the world, because it was the only thing I had. This gift is all that I am.” I swallowed hard, seeing that all his attention was focused solely on me, and then continued: “And this is the first time I’ve truly snatched a soul from death’s grasp, and now I feel happy about it.
Beyond that, I’m thrilled that you recognize this milestone. It means a lot to me.”
He looked at me intensely, but seconds passed and no words left his lips.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, a bit worried.
“I’m thinking that I’m a terrible partner.”
“In what way exactly? I could list a few,” I joked, trying to break the heavy mood. It didn’t work at all. He took a long breath before responding.
“I’ve missed so many parts of your life, and I feel bad because almost everything I know about you came from Ambrose or Kiara.
” His thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of my wrist. I was afraid he’d feel through my pulsing veins how fast my heart was beating after hearing his confession.
“I know I’ve been unfair—I focused on things that were important to me while ignoring what was important to you, and that was a huge mistake.
I’m so proud of you and so amazed by your ability that I’d venture to say you’ll become the best elmedic ever seen in all of Jupiter. ”
I swallowed my tears and smiled shyly at him as I traced the lines on his palm. He watched the gesture too, as if mesmerized by the touch. The conversation felt like the start of an understanding, and now that I knew about the agreement, everything made more sense.
“I don't need to be the best. Good enough to earn a spot at the hospital is all I need.”
“I'd definitely trust you with my life,” Zion said, then looked surprised—as surprised as I was. We smiled together in relief at how intimate and genuine that confession felt. “And I don't even trust my own shadows.”
The shadows seemed to hover over my shoulders, eavesdropping on our conversation.
“If I were you, I wouldn't either. The sonar called me the granddaughter of the apocalypse. I suppose that's a terrible omen.”
“He called you that? I didn't know about that part,” he exclaimed.
I thought for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, I decided to tell him everything that had happened with the sonar, and Zion listened quietly as I repeated the nonsensical things the man had told me.
“I've heard about that. I know someone who's also seen that other side of him. But as far as I know, the sonar has never been a danger to anyone.”
That surprised me.
“You know someone? Who?”
“Someone I don't talk to much.”
I waited a few seconds for him to elaborate, but Zion didn't seem to want to talk about this person, and I suspected it was Serguei. The problem was, if he didn't even want to talk about the man, how would I bring up the damn birthday dinner without starting an argument?
“I'm still thinking about what he said, but it doesn't make much sense. He said someone hid me from the angels, but that must be a delusion, or maybe he was speaking metaphorically. The only thing I understood was that he wanted me to fight. So all I can figure is that he wants me to prepare for the final test.”
The moment I said it, I regretted it—Zion was looking at me like a hungry cat.
“And that brings us back to my offer.” Zion leaned in, bending over the table. “Will you train with me?”
“Will you stay home?” I challenged, leaning toward him.
“Aren't I staying?”
“For how long? Because at the first sign of trouble, you run.”
He didn't have time to respond. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man approaching. He had a camera in his hands and wore the restaurant's dark green uniform. He cleared his throat to get our attention.
“Good evening, beautiful couple!” he greeted us.
I avoided looking at Zion, though I wanted to see his reaction to the word “couple” being tossed out so casually.
“Lemon's offers a complimentary photo service.
We like to keep memories of all our guests and give them one as a gift so they'll remember us. May I take a photo of you?”
His smile was so warm and kind that saying no would have been impossible.
I looked at Zion expectantly, unsure why my heart was racing—maybe because I didn't have a single photo with him.
Zion watched me, trying to gauge whether I wanted this or not.
I couldn't sit still, anxious with anticipation. He seemed to understand and stood up.
“Of course we can. Where do you recommend we take it?”
The man directed us to the balcony right behind us. Zion leaned against the glass railing that came up to his waist, and I stood beside him, stiff as a statue but with a huge smile on my face. The photographer looked uncomfortable as he raised the camera to his eyes.
“You know, I think it would look better if you moved closer together,” he suggested, waving his hands to bring us closer. Thrilled, I took Zion's hand, and he looked at me, unsure what to do. The photographer raised the camera to his eyes again, then lowered it, studying us.
“Sorry, but the height difference isn't working. If I may say so... sir, you're very tall and she's quite short. I can't get you both in the frame.”