Now, as my gaze lingered on the cup in his hand, Kael spoke with casual indifference. “Kaia doesn’t have a proper cup to drink from, so I gave her this one. She happens to like it.”
His words struck like a gust of cold wind, snuffing out the faint embers of those long-forgotten promises. The future he had once painted so vividly had been discarded, left to fade like an old photograph.
I swallowed the bitterness, letting the ache settle in the pit of my stomach. A thought lingered in my mind like a quiet echo, ‘We don’t have a future together anyway.’
So I nodded, my voice steady. “Go ahead. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Kael blinked, caught off guard by my calm response. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he stepped closer, ruffling my hair with an unfamiliar gentleness.
“Wait for me to come back,” he murmured softly.
That evening, as I sat in the study drafting my resignation letter, the door creaked open without warning.
Kael walked in alone, shedding his coat as if discarding the day’s burdens. He closed the distance between us and wrapped me in his arms. “Skylar,” he said quietly.