The worst part about restraint—

It teaches your body exactly what it’s denying.

Erik knew that.

He had built a life on that knowledge.

Discipline. Loyalty. Structure. Clean lines. 

A man who made decisions once and stood by them. A man who didn’t waver, didn’t spiral, didn’t let emotion hijack the architecture of his life.

That man—

was not currently in charge.

Because Ra was standing in front of him again.

And the universe, apparently, had decided to test him like he hadn’t already passed enough impossible exams.

She shouldn’t be this close.

That was the first problem.

The second problem?

She knew it.

Ra stood there in the moonlight, gold catching along her collarbone, burgundy braids brushing her arms, eyes locked on his as they’d never once forgotten how to find him in a room.

She looked calm.

She was not calm.

Neither was he.

“Tell me something,” Erik said, voice lower than it should have been, already slipping. “Why is it every time we try to be responsible people, the universe treats it like a suggestion?”

Ra huffed a quiet laugh, breath unsteady.

“Because we were never built for simplicity.”

Erik’s mouth twitched.

“That’s funny,” he said. “Because I remember simply.”

Her expression shifted.

Dangerously soft.

So he did the thing he absolutely should not do.

He said it.

“You. Me. New York.”

Ra inhaled sharply.

“Don’t—”

“No,” Erik cut in, stepping closer, something in him finally snapping loose. “Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about how we were supposed to be boring.”

Her lips parted.

“Engaged,” he continued, voice gaining heat. “You were going to be a surgeon. I was going to be a high-end lawyer with too many suits and not enough sleep.”

Ra’s eyes burned now.

“Erik—”

“We had an apartment with terrible lighting and great coffee,” he went on, like stopping would kill him. “Karma was going to run the place like she owned it, and Spirit—”

His voice broke slightly.

“—Spirit was going to be raised with actual stability instead of cosmic chaos and whatever the hell this is.”

Silence hit like a wall.

Ra’s breath trembled.

“That life—” she whispered.

“—was real,” Erik said sharply. “Don’t rewrite it just because this one is louder.”

Ra shook her head, stepping back.

“It wasn’t enough.”

The words landed like a slap.

Erik stilled.

“Not enough?” he repeated, quietly.

Ra’s voice cracked.

“It was safe.”

“And that’s a problem?”

Her eyes flashed.

“Yes.”

Erik let out a humorless laugh.

“Of course it is. God forbid you get a peaceful life with a man who actually knows how to file taxes and keep you alive.”

Ra’s lips trembled despite herself.

“You’re being unfair.”

“I’m being honest.”

The tension snapped.

Ra turned like she was going to walk away.

Erik moved before he thought.

His hand caught her wrist—not rough, but firm.

Immediate.

Unavoidable.

She froze.

So did he.

Because now—

Now there was contact.

Real.

Unfiltered.

Dangerous.

“Erik,” she whispered.

His voice was rough now, control slipping as a tie loosened too far.

“Don’t walk away from me like I’m a chapter you already closed.”

Ra turned back slowly.

They were too close now.

Too aware.

Too everything.

“You think I closed you?” she said softly.

“You married him.”

There it was.

The truth.

Ugly. Sharp. Real.

Ra didn’t flinch.

“I married a prophecy, a war, humanity was.....” she said.

Erik’s jaw tightened.

“And what was I?”

Her answer was immediate.

“Peace.”

That should have felt like a compliment.

It didn’t.

Erik laughed once, low and bitter.

“Yeah,” he said. “That tracks. You always did have a thing for chaos.”

Ra stepped closer again, like she couldn’t help it.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured.

“Do what?”

“Reduce what we had.”

“I’m not reducing it,” he snapped. “I’m trying to understand how it wasn’t enough.”

Ra’s breath shook.

“It was everything,” she said.

“Then why aren’t we living it?”Erik asked with his green eyes searching her golden ones.

The question hung between them like a blade.

Because neither of them had an answer that didn’t hurt.

Silence stretched.

Too long.

Too charged.

And then—

Ra’s hand moved.

Slow.

Deliberate.

She touched his chest.

Just there.

Flat palm.

Feeling.

Erik’s entire body reacted like he’d been hit with memory.

“Ra…” he warned.

Too late.

Because something in him had already decided.

His hand came up to her jaw.

Not careful.

Not restrained.

Just real.

He kissed her.

And this time—

This time it wasn’t controlled.

It wasn’t Mehen’s deliberate patience.

It wasn’t Lion’s testing edge.

It was Erik.

All of him.

Years of restraint cracking open in one brutal, honest moment.

The kiss was deep, immediate, unfiltered—like he’d been holding it back for lifetimes and finally stopped pretending he could.

Ra gasped into it.

Her hands fisted in his shirt.

And then—

She kissed him back.

God.

She kissed him back.

For a moment—

just one—

The universe collapsed into something simple.

Familiar.

Right.

His arms pulled her in, full body, instinctive, like she belonged there, like this was muscle memory instead of betrayal.

Her body fit against his as if nothing had changed.

Like everything had.

The world disappeared.

No Mehen.

No war.

No prophecy.

Just them.

Just this.

Just what should have been.

And then—

Ra broke.

She pulled back suddenly, breath uneven, hands still on him like she didn’t trust herself to let go.

“No,” she whispered.

Erik’s chest rose hard.

“Ra—”

“No,” she said again, stronger this time, even as her eyes betrayed her.

Silence crashed back in.

Reality returned like a punishment.

Erik’s voice dropped, quieter now.

“I know,” he said. “I know we can’t.”

Ra swallowed.

“Then why—”

“Why what?” he asked, raw now. “Why did I kiss you? Why did you kiss me back? Why does it still feel like this?”

Her breath trembled.

“I—”

“Because he stole you with a lie.”

The words hit.

Hard.

Ra froze.

Completely still.

She didn’t turn.

Didn’t move.

But Erik saw it.

That tiny shiver.

That fracture.

That truth lands somewhere deep.

“Mehen didn’t win you fairly,” Erik said, voice low, intense, not loud but devastating. “He positioned himself inside a prophecy and called it destiny.”

Ra’s voice was barely there.

“Stop.”

“But we were real,” Erik pushed. “We chose each other without gods, without war, without manipulation.”

Ra’s hands trembled.

“Erik—”

“We were simple,” he said, softer now, more dangerous for it. “And we were happy.”

Ra turned her head just enough—

just enough to look back at him.

And the look—

God.

It was everything.

Longing.

Regret.

Love.

The ghost of a life that still lived somewhere inside both of them.

The old what if.

The version where nothing went wrong.

Where they stayed.

Where they chose peace.

Ra’s voice cracked.

“It’s not that simple anymore.”

Erik nodded once.

Sharp.

Controlled.

Like something inside him had just been sealed shut again.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

Silence.

Then—

He stepped back.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Rebuilding the distance like a man who knew exactly how dangerous proximity had become.

“But don’t rewrite what we had,” he added quietly. “Just because this is louder.”

Ra’s breath shook.

He looked at her one last time.

Really looked.

Like he was memorizing something he might not be allowed to touch again.

Then he turned.

Walked away.

Fast.

Because if he didn’t—

He wouldn’t.

And Ra stood there in the moonlight—

Still.

Burning.

Knowing exactly what she had just lost again.

And worse—

What she had never actually stopped wanting.