This is a bad idea.

Let me be very clear.

This is not a “hmm, maybe I shouldn’t” situation.

This is a career-ending, marriage-threatening, fate-mocking, absolutely catastrophic idea.

And yet—

I’m walking toward her anyway.

Because apparently, I am not as evolved as I thought.

Ra is standing near the edge of the terrace again, like she owns the concept of solitude. Gold catching moonlight. Braids down her back. Looking like every bad decision I’ve ever made decided to reincarnate with better posture.

I should turn around.

I do not turn around.

Because I am a grown man with responsibilities, a wife, a child, and a fully functioning brain—

—and none of those things are currently in charge.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Love that for me.”

She senses me.

Of course she does.

Ra doesn’t get surprised.

She turns slowly, and there it is.

That look.

That “we both know this is a problem” look.

“Erik,” she says.

God.

Even my name sounds like a bad idea in her mouth.

“Ra.”

Keep it simple. Keep it controlled. Keep it professional.

Because nothing says “I have my life together” like staring at your Starbound Dyad like you’re trying not to commit emotional arson.

We stand there.

Two people with a history thick enough to qualify as a natural disaster.

“So,” I say, because I am clearly handling this with dignity, “this is… healthy.”

Ra’s lips twitch.

“Very.”

Ah yes.

Humor.

The last defense of people about to make terrible decisions.

“How’s Lola?” she asks.

There it is.

Reality.

My wife.

My actual life.

“She’s good,” I say, nodding like that doesn’t feel like admitting I chose stability over combustion. “Strong. Beautiful. Still married to me, which feels like her biggest flaw.”

Ra huffs a quiet laugh.

God, I missed that.

“And Karma?” she asks.

I soften immediately.

“Perfect,” I say. “Too smart. Already judging me.”

“As she should.”

Fair.

We fall into silence again.

And this is where it goes wrong.

Because silence with Ra is never empty.

It’s loaded.

Charged.

A countdown.

“I felt you,” she says quietly.

Of course she did.

Starbound Dyad. Because the universe apparently thought emotional boundaries were optional.

“Yeah,” I say. “Same.”

Pause.

Breath.

Mistake.

“I’m trying,” I add, because honesty is apparently what we’re doing now.

Ra tilts her head.

“Trying what?”

“To be a good man.”

She studies me as if that answer offended her.

“You are a good man.”

I laugh.

“Debatable.”

“You are,” she says firmly.

“That’s the problem,” I mutter.

Ra steps closer.

I should move.

I do not move.

Because apparently, my self-control has filed for resignation.

“You think being good means denying everything,” she says.

“No,” I reply. “I think being good means not acting on everything.”

She gets closer.

Too close.

This is where I leave.

I do not leave.

“Erik,” she says softly.

That tone.

Illegal.

Completely illegal.

“What?” I manage.

Her hand lifts.

I see it coming.

I could stop it.

I do not stop it.

Her fingers touch mine.

And that’s it.

That’s the moment my entire personality collapses like a poorly built argument.

Because it’s just a hand.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

My fingers close around hers instinctively, like my body remembers something my brain tried to forget.

“Wow,” I whisper. “This is… incredibly irresponsible.”

Ra’s breath trembles.

“Then let go.”

I do not let go.

Because apparently, I am not as noble as advertised.

“Not my strong suit,” I admit.

Her thumb brushes my hand.

I am going to lose my mind.

“I hate that you feel like this,” she says.

I laugh softly.

“I hate that I don’t.”

We stand there, holding hands like it’s more dangerous than anything else we could do.

Because it is.

Because this is real.

“I chose my life,” I say quietly.

“I know.”

“I love my family.”

“I know.”

“I am not leaving them.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then—

“I still want you.”

There it is.

Truth.

Unfiltered.

Unfixable.

Ra’s eyes shine.

“Erik…”

I squeeze her hand once.

Then I let go.

Because if I don’t, I won’t.

And if I won’t—

Everything burns.

“I’ll find you,” I say quietly.

Her breath catches.

“Even when I shouldn’t.”

Then I turn.

Before I can prove exactly how weak I actually am.