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There were harsh realities I had been forced to come to terms with recently.
The kind that don't arrive all at once, loud and obvious, but slowly. Quietly. Settling into the spaces between your thoughts until one day you realise they've been there for a while, waiting patiently for you to finally look at them properly.
And maybe I would have seen them sooner if I hadn't spent the last few months drowning beneath deadlines and exhaustion and the constant pressure of trying to keep every part of my life from collapsing in on itself.
Maybe I would have noticed sooner that somewhere between work and stress and late nights and missed conversations—I had started surviving my relationship instead of living inside it.
None of that changed the truth though. The truth was devastatingly simple.
Eris Vanserra is the love of my life. Not had been. Is.
Present tense. Unavoidable. Deeply ingrained into every part of me whether I wanted him there or not.
There was no one else for me.
No one else I wanted to tell stupid stories to at two in the morning. No one else whose side of the bed I reached for unconsciously in my sleep. No one else whose opinion threaded itself into my decisions before I even realised I was thinking about them.
It was him. Always him.
And somehow I had let life blur something that should have been painfully obvious.
Working on myself wasn't separate from missing him.
That had been the lie I clung to at first. Like healing and loving him existed on opposite sides of a line. Like I had to choose one or the other.
But they were tangled together so tightly now I didn't know where one ended and the other began.
Because every part of "working on myself" seemed to lead back to him eventually.
Learning how to slow down. Learning how to be present. Learning how not to let exhaustion turn love into routine.
Every realisation circled back to us. To what we had become during those final few months together.
And the question that haunted me most wasn't whether we loved each other enough.
I knew we did. God, I knew.
The harder question was simple
Was the relationship actually failing—or were we simply failing the relationship during a moment in our lives when everything else had become too heavy to carry properly?
The thought stayed with me all morning.
It lingered as I got dressed slowly, pulling on an oversized sweater and leggings, twisting my hair into something half-presentable before giving up halfway through.
It followed me into my car. Stayed with me at every red light.
And somehow it felt fitting that without even consciously deciding to, I ended up driving to the grocery store Eris and I always used to go to together every Sunday morning.
Habit was a dangerous thing. Especially when love had built most of yours.
The parking lot was busy when I arrived, the sharp autumn air brushing against my skin as I stepped out of the car and wrapped my sweater tighter around myself.
For a second, just standing there, I almost expected him to appear beside me automatically.
Coffee in one hand. Annoyingly expensive green juice in the other because he claimed it "balanced out" all the caffeine.
I could practically hear him.
You forgot the reusable bags again, didn't you?
I smiled despite myself. Then immediately hated how much it hurt.
Inside, the store was warm and familiar, the low hum of conversation and shopping carts strangely comforting in a way I couldn't explain.
I moved through the aisles slowly, almost absentmindedly, tossing things into my basket without really paying attention.
Pasta. Fruit. Coffee. Chocolate.
The specific yoghurt Eris liked because I still reached for it automatically before realizing halfway through that he wasn't coming over.
My chest tightened slightly at that. God. Even now, my life still moved around him instinctively.
I wandered toward the cereal aisle eventually, stopping in front of the shelves with a quiet sigh.
Of course the one thing I needed was shoved all the way at the top. I rose onto my toes, stretching upward, fingertips barely brushing the box.
"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath.
I reached again. Still nothing. Then suddenly—
Warmth.
A body stepped close behind me, close enough that heat immediately radiated along my back, close enough that the clean scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne wrapped around me before I even processed what was happening.
A familiar hand reached above my head easily, fingers curling around the box I'd been struggling to grab.
And every part of me froze.
I knew that scent. Knew that presence. Knew the feeling of him before I even turned around.
My breath caught sharply as I spun around too quickly.
Eris stood there holding the cereal box in one hand, looking equally startled and unsurprised at the same time.
Like he couldn't believe this was happening but also like some part of him had expected to find me eventually anyway.
"Oh," I breathed.
His mouth twitched slightly. "Still too short for the top shelf, I see."
The familiarity of it hit me so hard my chest physically ached.
I laughed softly before I could stop myself. "Shut up."
God. I had missed this. Missed him. Not the memory of him. Not the idea. This. The ease. The warmth. The way being around him immediately softened something in me I hadn't realised was clenched tight.
"You always buy the same cereal," he noted, glancing at the box before handing it to me.
"So do you."
"Yeah," he murmured quietly.
For a second neither of us moved.
The grocery store carried on around us, people passing by without a second glance, carts squeaking against tiled floors, music playing faintly overhead.
But inside that tiny pocket of space between us everything felt still again.
"You still come here on Sundays," I said softly.
His eyes flickered back to mine. "You do too."
Another small ache settled into my chest because of course he noticed that too. "It's habit," I tried to explain, though the words sounded weak even to me.
"Yeah," he said again, quieter this time. "I think that's the problem."
My fingers tightened slightly around the basket handle.
He looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally. Like there were things sitting behind his eyes he hadn't figured out how to put down yet.
And suddenly I realised something terrifying.
I knew this man. Not superficially. Not temporarily.
I knew the small shifts in his expression. The subtle roughness in his voice when he was overwhelmed. The way he avoided eye contact for half a second when something mattered too much.
I knew him in ways that couldn't simply disappear because we had decided to "take space."
And standing there, in the middle of a grocery store aisle beneath terrible fluorescent lighting I realised it. Fully. Completely. With no room left to deny it anymore.
I loved him. I still loved him. Not carefully. Not conditionally. Not in a way distance had weakened.
I loved him with the same unbearable certainty I always had.
And worse I still wanted him. Not just emotionally. Physically too.
I wanted to step closer. Wanted to touch him. Wanted to lean into the warmth of him and pretend none of this had ever happened.
The realisation hit so hard it almost frightened me because nothing about this felt finished.
"Have you been okay?" he asked suddenly.
The question was soft. Careful. Like he genuinely wanted the answer.
"I don't know," I admitted honestly after a moment.
Something vulnerable flickered across his face. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me neither."
The honesty of it settled heavily between us. No pretending. No polished answers. Just two people standing in the middle of aisle seven trying not to unravel in front of the cereal.
A faint smile tugged at my mouth at the absurdity of it all. His eyes softened when he noticed.
That look. That look would ruin me forever.
"I miss you."
The words left him quietly. No hesitation. No buildup. Just honest. Raw enough that my breath caught instantly.
For a second I couldn't speak because there it was. The truth we had both been circling around for weeks. Not hidden behind careful wording or restraint.
Just there. Simple. Painfully real.
His jaw tightened slightly after he said it, like he regretted letting it slip free but he didn't take it back.
"I miss you too," I whispered.
And the way he looked at me after that nearly undid me completely. Like relief and heartbreak existed in equal measure inside him.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us crossed the line.
Something shifted anyway. Something undeniable.
Because for the first time since the break started, this didn't feel like distance growing between us.
It felt like two people slowly finding their way back toward something they never truly stopped wanting in the first place.
Eris's POV -
Sitting in my car on a Sunday evening in the middle of a nearly empty parking lot was not how I had planned to spend my day.
It just... happened.
One minute I had been standing beneath fluorescent grocery store lighting pretending I knew how to breathe normally while she looked at me with those soft, familiar eyes.
The next I was here.
Alone in my car, keys still sitting untouched in the ignition, grocery bags abandoned in the passenger seat while dusk slowly bled across the sky outside my windows.
I should have left twenty minutes ago. Maybe longer. I didn't actually know anymore.
Time had blurred somewhere between her saying "I miss you too" and me walking numbly across the parking lot afterward feeling like someone had reached into my chest and rearranged every thought I'd spent weeks trying to keep under control.
The worst part was how little it had taken.
One conversation. One look at her. One quiet confession in the cereal aisle.
And suddenly every carefully constructed wall I'd been leaning on felt thin enough to collapse beneath the weight of a single memory.
I leaned back against the headrest slowly, staring blankly through the windshield as the automatic doors of the grocery store slid open and closed in the distance.
People came and went around me. Cars started. Engines faded. Shopping carts rattled somewhere nearby.
The world carried on normally while I sat completely motionless inside it because all I could hear was her voice.
I miss you too
The words replayed in my head over and over again, softer each time somehow, threading themselves through every thought until I couldn't separate them from anything else.
She missed me. Not politely. Not nostalgically. Not in the detached way people miss old habits.
She missed me.
And somehow that realisation hurt almost as much as it relieved me. I scrubbed a hand down my face slowly, exhaling hard through my nose.
At some point during this break, I had started treating absence like punishment.
Like this was something I had to endure instead of something I was supposed to learn from.
I had convinced myself the ache in my chest was proof that the distance was working, that maybe if I suffered through it long enough, eventually wanting her would become manageable. Smaller. Quieter.
That wasn't what happened at all.
The space hadn't made me stop loving her. It hadn't weakened anything.
If anything, it had done the opposite. It had stripped everything down until all I was left with was the terrifying clarity of how deeply she existed inside my life.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Quietly. In the spaces I never noticed until they were empty.
Sunday mornings. Coffee cups. The second toothbrush beside mine. The way I automatically checked the passenger seat when I drove somewhere. The instinct to tell her things no one else would care about.
The realisation hit me slowly and all at once.
I hadn't lost her in one catastrophic moment.
I had lost sight of her gradually beneath stress and exhaustion and the constant assumption that love would patiently survive on scraps of attention while everything else took priority.
Because I had prioritised work. Pressure. Responsibility. Every external thing demanding pieces of me.
And somewhere inside all of that, I had started loving her passively instead of intentionally because I thought she would always be there.
The certainty of her had made me careless. Careless in the quiet ways that matter most.
Now I couldn't stop noticing her absence in every corner of my life.
I turned my head slightly, staring at the grocery bags sitting in the passenger seat.
There were strawberries in there. I had grabbed them automatically because she liked cutting them into her yoghurt in the mornings.
The realisation almost made me laugh. Or maybe lose my mind.
Because even now, even separated, even trying to give each other space, I was still moving through life with her in mind before myself.
The sky outside darkened gradually, parking lot lights flickering on one by one, washing everything in pale gold.
Still, I didn't move. I just sat there thinking about her.
About the way she looked reaching for the cereal box. About the warmth of her standing so close to me again. About the way her voice softened when she admitted she missed me too.
Seeing her hadn't felt like the end of something. It had felt unfinished. Like maybe we hadn't failed because we stopped loving each other.
Maybe we had simply stopped paying attention while life got too loud around us.
The thought terrified me a little because if that was true, then maybe losing her would be the stupidest mistake of my entire life.
A sharp knock against my window startled me hard enough that I physically jerked.
I blinked, disoriented for half a second before turning toward the sound.
A young cashier stood beside my car awkwardly, still wearing a green store apron, concern written plainly across his face.
I rolled the window down slightly.
"Sorry to bother you," he said carefully, clearly trying not to sound judgmental, "but... uh... we noticed you've been sitting out here for a really long time."
I stared at him blankly for a moment. "How long?"
He hesitated. "Like... five hours."
Five—
I let out a short breath of disbelief, glancing toward the dashboard clock like it had somehow betrayed me.
The cashier shifted awkwardly. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay."
The sincerity in his voice snapped something back into place inside my head.
Right. I was sitting alone in a dark parking lot like a man on the verge of a breakdown. Fair enough.
"Yeah," I said quickly, straightening slightly. "Sorry. I didn't realise."
He looked unconvinced. "You sure?"
The question almost made me laugh again. Was I sure? Absolutely not. I nodded anyway. "Yeah. I'm okay."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Not anymore. Still wrecked. Still aching.
Still hopelessly in love with a woman I was currently trying very hard not to ruin.
But for the first time in weeks, the pain didn't feel hollow. It felt clarifying.
The cashier gave me one last uncertain nod before stepping away from the car.
I watched him disappear back toward the store entrance before finally gripping the steering wheel properly for the first time all evening.
The leather felt cold beneath my palms.
I exhaled slowly. Then finally started the engine.
But even as I pulled out of the parking lot, headlights cutting through the darkening streets, my thoughts stayed with her.
With the warmth in her eyes. With the softness in her voice.
With the realisation that maybe this break had never been about learning how to live without each other.
Maybe it had been about neither of us actually wanted to.
A/N - Old habits die hard... or apparently they just lead two people who are very much not over each other back to the same grocery store on a Sunday morning x
They finally say "I miss you" to each other in person this time (because calling just wasn't enough) and it hits them both hard... but especially Eris, which we get to see through his POV.
Nothing says yearning quite like sitting in a grocery store parking lot for FIVE HOURS thinking about the person you love!!
Thank you so much for reading <33
The Way Back tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @chxosangxl @ivy-34 @herblueside @acourtofbatboydreams @sunny1616
your writing is so wonderful, i truly hope the writer’s block doesn’t stick around for long!
i find myself always coming back to read your az fics because they’re such a comfort for me. i hope you know how adored you and your writing is to so many of us <3
thank you sm angel this is so sweet of you to say <33 honestly i feel like the reason is work im always so tired after it to write and then on my days off i like to go out so i feel like i just need to make time some day!!
Hey babe, I love alllll ur workss soooo muchhhh. It's literally so gooood, I devour all ur fics up. I loved terms and conditions (internally screams cause of how good it was). Ive read all ur az x reader fics like at least twice through, LOVED little star, devil's angel, and invisble.
Some suggestions (note: these aren't very well thought out, so ignore it if u hate it or tweak it <3):
Second chance az x reader where reader is part of the ic and is thesian's daughter. And her and az where getting really serious and she breaks it off, leaving for a while bc she needs space (cough, attachment issues, cough, mates, cough) Now she has returned and is suprised by all the new ppl and stuff, and doesn't know what az and her are anymore. Bonus points if she get's jelly because of az with gwyn or elain (or both, the more angst the better >:D)
Fake-dating/Publicity stunt where reader and az (or eris) are both singers and need to better their reputation so they get together. Then they slowly start spending more time together for the "media" and the moments turn real and they fall in love. If az/eris falls in love with her when she's doing a concert and he's like that's my girl and omg she's so freakin cool. Maybe he writes her a song to end off
eris x archeon!sister
eris x reader is rhys's sister
Maybe one where reader is part of the ic, but they don't know she's mated to az or eris, like they are very secretive and then something happens and the ic is like, there's no way (and idk, u can build this up if u like it)
But like boo, u are SO GOOD at writing. Like u deserve a break if u need it. Don't worry. We'll love anything you publish.
terms and conditions was such a tough one to write i specifically remember rewriting part 1 and 2 twice because i could not figure it out for the life of me so im glad to hear it was emjoyed 🥹
little star and invisble mentioned again 😝
now devils angel was like the third fic i wrote (i think) but i just remember going from 8 parts to 10 to 12 and finally 15 so fast cause i couldn’t get enough!!
also the fake dating suggestion has me intrigued—i have yet to explore it and i perhaps see myself doing so (also eris x *someone’s* sister…) 👀👀
little star ist one of my favorite. because i love yearning. give me more yearning. im dying for this and you nail it in this fic!!!
and I love your modern au's, especially when they're a bit darker. and I’m so excited for corrupt
little star is truly the blueprint!! it’s the fic that started it all—i still remember being so nervous posting that first part because i thought no one would care… and now look where we are 🥹
the modern aus are so fun because it’s like a fresh take—i have been WAITING to share corrupt with you guys ever since i finished editing it im so excited xx
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Awww my lovely, if you need to take a break - take a break!! 🫶🏼 I don't have any suggestions, so I'll just send you praise 😭💜
I love all your works but one I REALLY loved was the Undead series! It was just so unlike something I've read before. Also LOVED LOVED LOVED Seven Deadly Sins! That was so unique and different, and loved the concept of each chapter being a sin! And The Ruin SO SO good too! I love the nurse reader that was so good - I liked the mix of stories there: her burnout, the romance, the angst of mafia and even her friendship with Lucien too. Another few of my faves are Crossroads, In Bloom and Powerless!
The only thing I could suggest, if any thing interests you is maybe a Lucien fic (or Tamlin fic, if you are that way inclined 😅)? Or a retelling story - like a retelling of a fairytale, or even a retelling of a Greek myth?
Regardless, you are an amazing writer - no one could ever say that enough. So absolutely take a break if you need it!!!! 🫶🏼 sorry I originally sent this as comment but then saw people were sending asks, so thought better send it here instead 😭🥰💜
undead seems to be popular and i agree i love love love zombie shows!!
seven deadly sins was also such a cool one i really thought i was the shit for coming up with that idea 😭 it’s one i’m genuinely so proud of x
the ruin is also one of my early babies so i love it—also because im a nurse yk 😝
crossroads, in bloom and powerless again 🫶🏼🫶🏼
i LOVE the retelling idea i just read the Never After series by Emily mMcintire a while ago so this is making me excited to plot out my own story 👀👀
thank you sm angel for taking the time to send this and for the retelling idea because you best believe i will be writing something with it (with credit to you ofc) im so grateful 🫶🏼
Powerless had me frothing at the mouth i WAITED for the next chapters like my life depended on it 🙏🏼 AND the baby fics just did it for me 🤧 the azriel, rhysand and eris ones were just PERFECTION i can’t wait for the cassian one if you’re still writing that one 🫡🧡
the powerless idea was definitely one of my prouder moments (i literally ran it back and wrote an azriel version asw!!) i miss it 🙂↕️
the baby fics are dear to my heart, they’re always so fluffy and cute AND i can confirm the Cassian one is written and edited (i might post that after my new rhys one xx)
i haven't written a single word of a fic in like three weeks—i fear i've lost my touch. no editing, no writing, no rereading (the archive is DORMANT) 😭😭
is this the end of time?? 🥹
the last time i accidentally took a break this long, i stopped writing altogether, so i'm lowkey terrified that's happening again. i really hope not because i genuinely have no idea how to get my motivation back.
any and all suggestions on how i can motivate myself are welcome or perhaps some feedback/thoughts on your favourite fics... purely for scientific research and definitely not because i need reminding i can actually write 😝 i am a slut for some praise!
Grief didn't disappear the way stories always said it would. It didn't vanish one morning like mist in the sun. It stayed. It settled into the corners of my life, into quiet moments, into songs that reminded me of nothing and everything at once.
But it changed.
It wasn't as sharp anymore. It didn't feel like I was being torn open every time I thought about it. It was more like a bruise now, still there, still tender, but not bleeding anymore.
I started leaving the house again.
At first only with Azriel. Walks along the Sidra at night when fewer were around. Sitting on the balcony with a book I didn't really read while he worked beside me. Small steps. Quiet steps.
Then slowly, I started seeing everyone again. Not big dinners. Not loud parties. Just small things.
One afternoon, Mor dragged us all out for ice cream in Velaris.
"I don't care if it's cold," she had announced. "Ice cream is a year-round necessity and all of you are coming with me because I miss us."
So now we were all sitting outside a little ice cream shop near the river, bundled in coats, holding cones like a group of overgrown children.
Cassian was already on his second.
"You eat that too fast," I told him, watching as he finished half the cone in one bite.
He looked offended. "I do nothing too fast."
"You do everything too fast," Mor said. "Especially thinking."
Rhys snorted into his cone. Amren sat across from us with the smallest cup of ice cream I had ever seen, eating it with a tiny spoon like she was royalty and this was a formal event.
It was... nice. Normal.
I sat between Mor and Azriel, my shoulder pressed lightly against his arm. His hand rested on my knee, absentmindedly tracing small circles there like he always did.
"You're quiet," Mor said gently, bumping her shoulder into mine.
"I'm eating," I replied, holding up my cone as proof.
"You're thinking," she corrected.
I smiled slightly. "I'm always thinking."
Cassian leaned forward across the table. "That's your first mistake."
I rolled my eyes. "Thank you for that wisdom, General."
"You're welcome," he said proudly.
I looked around the table then, at all of them laughing, arguing, talking over each other and felt something warm settle in my chest.
Not happiness exactly. But something close.
"I missed this," I said quietly.
The table went a little quieter.
Mor reached over and squeezed my hand. "We missed you too."
Azriel didn't say anything, but his hand tightened slightly on my knee, and I felt the emotion through the bond—relief, love, something soft and steady.
And for the first time in months, I didn't feel like I was standing outside my own life watching everyone else live it.
I felt like I was slowly stepping back into it.
A few days later, I stood in front of the nursery door. I hadn't gone in there since the miscarriage. Not once.
Azriel never pushed me to. He had quietly kept the door closed, never mentioning it, never suggesting we change the room or move things or pretend it had never existed.
So the room had stayed exactly as it was. Half-finished. Waiting.
I stood there for a long time with my hand on the handle, my heart beating faster with every second.
I thought I would cry the moment I opened the door. I thought I would fall apart.
But eventually, I turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Dust hadn't even gathered yet. The room still smelled faintly of fresh paint and wood and the lavender sachets Mor had insisted every baby room needed.
The small crib sat against the far wall. Shelves half-filled with books. A chair in the corner where I had planned to sit and rock our baby to sleep.
I walked in slowly, like if I moved too fast the room would disappear.
My fingers brushed over the back of the chair, over the edge of the crib, over the small stack of folded blankets we had bought together.
Memories hit me in quiet waves, Azriel standing in the middle of the room looking completely confused about where furniture should go, Cassian trying to build the crib and putting half of it on backwards, Mor holding up tiny clothes and crying, Amren pretending she didn't care but buying the most expensive blanket in the shop.
I sat down in the rocking chair slowly. The room was silent.
I waited for the grief to hit me the way it used to. Waited for the sobbing. The panic. The feeling like my chest was collapsing in on itself.
But it didn't come.
I just sat there. I rested my hands on my lap and looked around the room we had built for a child we never got to meet.
"I'm sorry," I whispered into the quiet room.
My voice sounded small.
"I really wanted to meet you," I said softly. "We all did."
Tears filled my eyes, but they didn't fall the way they used to. They just sat there, blurring my vision as I looked at the crib, the blankets, the little stuffed bat Mor had given me that now sat on the shelf.
"I hope you knew you were loved," I whispered.
The room stayed quiet.
But for the first time since we lost the baby, sitting there alone in the nursery, I didn't feel like I was being crushed by the grief. I just felt sad.
And somehow, that felt like progress.
Later that night, the house was quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't feel suffocating anymore. Just still. Soft. Like the world had finally exhaled.
I lay tangled in Azriel's arms, the warmth of him surrounding me, grounding me. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns along my back, his wings slightly curved around us like they always were when he held me close like this.
Safe. That was the word that came to mind. Safe.
His lips brushed against mine, gentle at first, soft, hesitant, like he was still learning how to touch me again after everything we had been through.
I leaned into it. Needed it.
Our kisses deepened slowly, unhurried, like we had nowhere else to be, like this moment was enough. His hand moved to cradle my face, thumb brushing my cheek as if he was reminding himself I was really here.
I kissed him back just as softly, just as carefully.
But beneath it there was something else. Something warmer. Something building.
It had been a long time since we had felt like this. Since anything between us had been anything other than grief and quiet comfort and holding each other together.
His hand slid down to my waist, pulling me closer, and I felt the shift in him, the way the kiss changed slightly, deepened, turned into something more.
And I realised then he had never once brought up trying again.
Not once. Not in passing. Not gently. Not even as a question.
And I knew why.
Because he didn't want to hurt me. Because he didn't want to pressure me. Because he would rather bury that part of himself completely than risk breaking me all over again.
The thought settled heavily in my chest.
Because I knew him. I knew how much he wanted a family. How much he had already loved the baby we lost.
And still he had chosen silence. Chosen me.
My hands moved to his chest, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of his shirt as I pulled back just enough to look at him.
His breath was uneven, his eyes darker now, searching my face immediately.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
There was no impatience. No frustration. Just concern. Always concern.
I swallowed.
"I..." My voice faltered, and I hated how nervous I suddenly felt. Like the words were too big, too fragile to say out loud.
His hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. "Talk to me."
I took a breath. "I want to try again."
The words hung between us.
For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't breathe. I felt it through the bond, the shock, the hope that flared so suddenly it almost hurt, followed immediately by caution, by fear of pushing too hard, of saying the wrong thing.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. Not doubting. Just careful.
"I think so," I said honestly. "I'm still scared. I think I'll always be scared."
His hand tightened slightly at my waist. "Then we don't have to—"
"I know," I said quickly. "I know we don't have to. But... I want to."
My throat tightened slightly.
"Sitting in the nursery today..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "It didn't break me. And I thought it would. I thought I'd fall apart and never come back from it, but I didn't."
His gaze softened.
"And it made me realise..." I continued quietly, "that I don't want to stop living because I'm afraid of losing something again."
Silence settled between us, but it wasn't heavy. It was... understanding.
"I don't want to hope this time," I admitted softly.
That was the truth of it.
"I don't want to sit there and dream and plan and imagine everything that could be. I don't think I can survive that again if it's taken away."
His expression didn't change. Not in disappointment. Not in sadness. Just acceptance.
"Then we don't hope," he said simply. I blinked at him. "We take it one day at a time," he continued quietly. "No expectations. No pressure. Just... us."
Emotion caught in my chest.
"And we don't tell anyone," I added quickly. "If it happens again. Not until... later. When it's real. When it's safe."
He nodded immediately. "Whatever you need."
I searched his face, looking for any hesitation, any hidden disappointment. There was none.
Just love. Always just love.
"Are you sure?" I whispered. "Because I know you want this, Azriel. I know you—"
"I want you," he said firmly, cutting me off. "Everything else comes after that."
My breath caught.
"And if trying again is something you want," he added more softly, "then I want it too. But only because it's you."
Tears filled my eyes again, but this time they didn't feel heavy. They felt light. Like something inside me was finally settling into place.
I leaned forward and kissed him again, softer this time, slower, like sealing the promise between us.
No expectations. No pressure. Just us.
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer as the world outside our room faded into nothing.
And for the first time in a long time the future didn't feel terrifying.
It just felt... unknown. And maybe that was enough.
The rest of the night blurred into quiet touches and whispered breaths, into closeness and warmth and something that felt like the beginning of healing rather than the end of something broken.
And when the world finally slipped away into darkness—it wasn't filled with fear.
Just possibility.
Azriel's POV -
The change this time wasn't subtle.
Same scent. Same shift in the bond. Same way my shadows suddenly became alert and restless and aware.
Only this time, neither of us felt joy first. We felt fear.
I knew before she told me. Before she even said the words out loud. I smelled it on her skin when I came up behind her one morning, that faint, soft change in her scent that I would recognise anywhere now.
My hands froze where they had been resting on her waist. She stilled too.
Slowly, she turned her head to look at me over her shoulder, and I saw it immediately in her eyes. She knew too.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment.
"We're not getting excited," she said quietly.
I nodded immediately. "We're not getting excited."
"We're not telling anyone."
"We're not telling anyone," I agreed.
"And we're not planning anything."
I swallowed. "Not planning anything."
She stared at me for another long second, like she was making sure I meant it. Like she was making sure I wouldn't secretly hope too much and get my heart broken again.
Then she nodded once, turned back around, and continued making breakfast like we hadn't just realised everything had changed again.
But everything had changed.
Because this time, I was terrified to love something that might be taken away from me again.
I became worse than before. I knew it. Everyone knew it, well, everyone would know it if we had told them.
But we hadn't.
So instead, I just quietly turned into the most overprotective male in Prythian and pretended it was normal.
I walked her everywhere. Even short distances. Even inside our own home sometimes.
If she stood up too fast, I was there. If she reached for something on a high shelf, I was there. If she so much as looked tired, I was already pulling out a chair for her to sit down.
"You're hovering," she told me one afternoon, not unkindly.
"I am not," I replied, standing approximately two steps away from her while she tried to reach for a book.
She gave me a look. I walked over and grabbed the book for her immediately.
She sighed. "You're hovering."
"I'm being attentive," I corrected.
"You're watching me like I might fall apart if I walk too quickly."
I didn't respond to that because she wasn't entirely wrong. I was terrified every single day.
Terrified every time she said she felt tired. Terrified every time she went quiet. Terrified every time I couldn't see her for more than a few minutes.
But the worst part was the waiting. Waiting and counting. I counted weeks constantly.
I didn't tell her I was doing it, but I was.
Every morning when I woke up, I counted again in my head. One week. Two weeks. Three weeks. Four. Five.
Every week that passed felt like we were crossing a fragile bridge that could collapse at any moment.
I didn't let myself imagine a baby. I didn't let myself think about names or rooms or small hands or what they might look like.
I didn't let myself love something that didn't exist yet.
But every night, when she fell asleep beside me, I would rest my hand over her stomach.
Every single night.
It became something I did without thinking. My hand would just settle there, warm and protective, like if I kept it there nothing bad could happen.
Sometimes she would place her hand over mine in her sleep. Sometimes she would whisper, half-asleep, "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" I would ask quietly.
"Guarding us," she would murmur.
Always us. Never just herself. Never just the baby. Always us.
And that word alone was enough to make my chest tighten.
One night, I woke up in the middle of the night and realised my hand wasn't on her stomach.
Panic hit me so fast it felt like I had been dropped into freezing water. I immediately reached for her, pressing my palm gently against her stomach again, just to feel something, anything that told me everything was still okay.
She stirred slightly. "Az..."
"I'm here," I whispered immediately.
"You don't have to stay awake all night," she murmured sleepily.
"I'm not," I lied.
She shifted slightly and moved closer to me, tucking herself into my chest, my hand still resting over her stomach.
"We're okay," she whispered, half-asleep.
I hoped she was right.
I didn't tell Rhys. Didn't tell Cassian. Didn't tell Mor or Amren. Not even a hint. Not even a suggestion.
We saw them. We had dinners. We laughed. We acted normal.
But every single day felt like we were carrying a fragile secret made of glass, and if we said it out loud it might shatter.
So we kept it between us.
Between me, her, and my shadows who had become even more protective than I was. They followed her constantly, never far from her, curling around her wrists, her shoulders, her waist like silent guardians.
One of them rested gently against her stomach one evening while we sat on the couch.
It stayed there for a long time. Like it was listening. Like it was guarding something precious.
I watched it from across the room, my chest tight, fear and hope twisting together into something I didn't have a name for.
I still didn't let myself imagine a future.
But every night, my hand rested over her stomach. And every morning, I counted another week.
A/N - We get the slow healing in this part. She's starting to come to terms with everything and allowing herself to step back into life again instead of just surviving it. And after everything, deciding she wants to try again :)
In Azriel's POV we get some very happy news. I know it might feel a little soon timeline wise but I planned for this story to only be 8 parts, so I wanted to include it here!!
They're definitely a lot more cautious and hesitant this time around though—no huge celebrations, no planning, just taking things one day at a time together x
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Summary - They told her he was a monster. A violent, remorseless prisoner buried deep inside a supermax facility. A man no one could control... and no one could understand.
As the new prison psychologist, she was brought in to study men like him. To analyse him. To fix what couldn't be fixed.
She knew the risks but nothing could have prepared her for the moment their eyes met... and something shifted.
Azriel didn't look at her like prey. He looked at her like she was his. And suddenly, every rule she's ever followed began to blur.
The most dangerous place in that prison isn't his cell—it's the pull between them, dark, obsessive and completely forbidden.
Tags - prisoner x psychologist AU, dark romance, morally grey characters, forbidden romance, obsessive love
Contents -
⚠ One
⚠ Two
⚠ Three
⚠ Four
⚠ Five
⚠ Six
⚠ Seven
⚠ Eight
⚠ Nine
⚠ Ten
ACOTAR Masterlist
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
Another requested fic and I ATE this up... I had way too much fun writing it. The plotting, the tension, the characters—everything about this had me completely hooked from start to finish!!
It's 10 whole parts which is the longest fic I've written in months, so you already know I went a little feral with the ideas and let myself fully lean into the chaos xx
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
The last thing I expected standing in the middle of a softly lit gallery, champagne cooling between my fingers, Feyre's work stretched beautifully across every wall—was to see him.
Eris.
For a moment, I didn't understand what I was looking at.
My mind refused to place him there, refused to let him exist in this space I had quietly claimed as mine, safe, separate, untouched by everything we had stepped away from.
He was here. Across the room. Real. Unavoidable. Looking straight at me with a familiarity that made my chest tighten before I could prepare for it.
The world didn't stop.
People still moved around us, voices folding into one another, soft laughter rising and falling, glasses clinking gently as strangers admired art I could no longer focus on.
But something in me stilled completely.
Like everything narrowed, condensed, drawn into a single invisible line that stretched between him and me. My heart stumbled once, hard enough to hurt before picking up again too quickly, too loudly, like it was trying to catch up to something it had already lost.
I hadn't seen him since that night. Not like this.
Not close enough to notice the way his shoulders held tension, or the faint exhaustion in his eyes, or the way he still looked like something I knew how to reach for without thinking.
And suddenly, the distance we had worked so hard to create didn't feel solid at all.
It felt fragile. Like something that would break if either of us moved too quickly.
"Hi, Eris."
The words slipped out of me before I could stop them, soft and instinctive, my hand smoothing over my dress in a pointless attempt to steady myself.
His expression changed immediately. Softened. Like he hadn't expected this either. Like seeing me had shifted something in him just as quickly.
"Hi, love."
The word landed somewhere deep in my chest, familiar and disorienting all at once.
He said it like it still belonged to me. Like I still belonged to him.
"I—" My throat tightened slightly, and I forced myself to breathe through it as he stepped closer, closing the space between us just enough to make everything feel sharper, more real. "I didn't know you'd be here."
I lifted my champagne glass, taking a slow sip more for something to do than anything else, the taste barely registering.
"I didn't either," he admitted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Rhys invited me."
Of course he did.
The thought almost made me laugh, but it caught somewhere in my chest instead.
"I don't think he thought it through," Eris added, quieter now, like he was aware of the weight of this moment in a way no one else in the room could be. "Sorry."
"Don't apologise," I said quickly, shaking my head, the words coming out softer than I intended. "It's not your fault we share the same friends."
It sounded too careful. Too distant.
Like we were trying to fit ourselves into a version of this interaction that didn't match what we actually were.
A silence settled between us. Not empty. Not uncomfortable. Just... suspended.
Like the world had forgotten to push us apart. Like, for a brief, fragile moment, we had slipped into something we weren't supposed to have anymore.
His gaze moved over me then. Slowly.
Not in a way that felt casual or polite but deliberate. Familiar. Like he was taking me in piece by piece, committing it to memory, the way he always used to when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
And I felt it. Every second of it.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice quieter now, lower, threaded with something warmer than it should have been.
My breath caught not because of the words, but because of the way he said them.
Like they weren't just a compliment. Like they were something closer to a confession.
"Thank you," I murmured, heat rising to my cheeks despite everything, despite the distance, despite the fact that this shouldn't still affect me the way it did.
"New dress?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the red fabric, not missing a single detail.
Of course he noticed. He always noticed.
"Yeah," I said, glancing down briefly before looking back at him. "I went shopping yesterday."
There was a flicker in his expression, small, almost imperceptible, but there.
"You don't usually go alone," he said quietly.
The observation wasn't accusing. It wasn't even heavy but it landed anyway because he was right.
"No," I admitted after a moment, my voice softer now. "I don't."
Didn't. The word hung there between us, unspoken but understood.
Another silence followed, but this one felt different, thicker, more dangerous, like we were standing too close to something we had already agreed not to touch.
"It suits you," he added after a second, his voice gentler now, almost like he was trying to ease the weight of what he'd just said.
That was what broke something small inside me.
Because this was us. This was what we used to be without effort. Easy. Natural. Falling into each other without thinking.
And standing there, looking at him, feeling that pull again, it would have been so simple to let it happen.
To pretend. To stay in this moment just a little longer than we should.
But reality hovered at the edges, waiting.
"How have you been?" I asked, the question coming out quieter than I meant it to, like I wasn't entirely sure I had the right to ask it anymore.
His jaw shifted slightly, like he was considering how honest to be.
"Busy," he said finally. "And you?"
"The same," I replied, though it wasn't entirely true.
Busy didn't cover it. Empty didn't either.
We stood there, looking at each other, both aware of everything we weren't saying. Everything we couldn't because if we started... we wouldn't stop.
"I almost texted you," he said suddenly.
The words caught me off guard. My breath hitched. "What?"
"A few times," he clarified, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to mine. "Nothing important. Just... things."
My chest ached at that. "I almost called you again," I admitted quietly.
His expression shifted again. Something deeper this time. "Yeah?" he asked, softer.
I nodded. Another silence but this one felt heavier. More fragile. Like we were standing on the edge of something we weren't supposed to fall back into.
"You didn't," he said.
Neither of us framed it as a question.
"No," I whispered. "I didn't."
"Good," he murmured.
The word didn't sound like relief. It sounded like restraint. Like something he was holding onto too tightly.
My fingers tightened slightly around my glass.
"This is strange," I said after a moment, a small, breathless laugh slipping out. "Talking to you like this."
"Like what?"
"Like we're... pretending we don't know each other."
His gaze held mine. "We're not pretending," he said quietly. "We just don't know what we're allowed to be anymore."
That hit harder than anything else. Before I could respond—
"There you are!"
Feyre's voice cut through the moment, bright and immediate, like she had sensed the shift from across the room.
She appeared beside me almost instantly, her eyes flicking between us, taking everything in far too quickly.
"Oh—" she exhaled, her expression tightening slightly. "I didn't realise—"
"It's fine," I said quickly, even though it wasn't. Even though everything inside me felt anything but fine.
"I'm so sorry," she added under her breath, her hand already finding my arm. "Rhys didn't tell me he invited—"
"Feyre," I interrupted gently. "It's okay."
She was already shaking her head. "No, it's not. Come with me—there's someone I want you to meet."
It wasn't subtle. It wasn't meant to be. Her grip on my arm tightened just slightly as she began to pull me away.
I didn't resist but I hesitated. Just for a second. Long enough to look back at him.
He was still standing there. Still watching me. Something unreadable in his expression. Something that mirrored exactly how I felt.
Unfinished. Unresolved.
"Bye, Eris," I said softly.
His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something more but he didn't.
"Bye... love."
Feyre pulled me away before I could react to it. Before I could linger. Before I could make a mistake.
The crowd swallowed him quickly. Or maybe I just stopped looking. I didn't know.
I barely registered where Feyre was taking me, my feet moving automatically, my mind still back there, still caught in that moment, in that space where everything had felt too close again.
Too real. Too easy to fall back into.
"You okay?" Feyre asked quietly once we were far enough away.
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah," I said, even though my voice didn't quite cooperate. "I'm fine."
I wasn't. My heart was still racing. My skin still felt warm where his gaze had lingered.
And worst of all, a part of me didn't feel relieved that it was over. A part of me felt... Pulled. Shaken. Like something had shifted beneath my feet.
And I hated that.
Hated how easily he still affected me. Hated how one conversation, one look, had unravelled the careful distance I had been trying so hard to maintain.
I forced myself to look forward. To focus. To breathe. The truth sat heavy in my chest, impossible to ignore.
Seeing him hadn't given me clarity. It hadn't made things easier. It had only done one thing.
Reminded me exactly how much I still wanted him.
Eris's POV -
I saw her before she saw me.
And for one dangerous, unforgivably weak moment, I forgot we were on a break.
Forgot the distance. Forgot the silence. Forgot the careful restraint I had spent weeks trying to force into myself like it was something I could learn through repetition.
All I saw was her.
Standing beneath the soft amber lighting of Feyre's gallery with a champagne glass balanced delicately between her fingers, her attention fixed on one of the paintings in front of her.
She tilted her head slightly when she studied art.
Always had. Like she was trying to understand not just what she was looking at, but what the artist had felt when they made it.
I used to love watching her do that.
Still did. God. My chest tightened painfully as my gaze moved over her slowly, greedily, taking in details I hadn't realised I'd been starving for.
The soft curve of her mouth. The shine of her hair falling over one shoulder. The deep red dress wrapped around her body like temptation itself.
Deep, damning red. My favourite colour.
Of course she wore red tonight. The fabric clung to her in ways that made my jaw tighten slightly, the low back exposing warm skin I suddenly remembered touching far too vividly. My hands almost twitched with the memory of it.
Beautiful. She looked beautiful. That wasn't new. She had always been beautiful.
This felt worse than that because seeing her again after weeks of absence didn't feel relieving the way I had imagined it might.
It felt brutal.
Like finally getting air after drowning only to realise your lungs had forgotten how to breathe properly.
There was something unbearable about seeing her face-to-face again after only having pieces of her for weeks. A phone call cut short. Old photographs. Memories that never stayed still long enough to stop hurting.
This was real. Close enough to touch. And it made something in my chest cave inward.
"You okay?"
Rhys's voice barely registered beside me. I tore my gaze away from her long enough to look at him.
He followed my line of sight immediately and visibly winced.
"Oh," he muttered under his breath. "Fuck."
I almost laughed at that. Almost.
"I'm sorry," he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I genuinely wasn't thinking. Feyre told me about you two but I didn't—"
"It's fine," I said automatically.
It wasn't. Nothing about this was fine.
Because she still looked like home to me. And that was the problem.
Rhys glanced between me and her again, guilt settling across his features.
Feyre had appeared earlier. Too fast. Too soon. The shift was immediate. The spell had broke. Reality rushed back in all at once.
I should have stopped her. The thought hit me immediately. I should've said something. Anything.
Stay. Wait. Don't go yet.
The words never made it out because deep down, I knew they wouldn't survive this moment intact.
If I asked her to stay, it wouldn't end there.
And if she looked at me the wrong way, too soft, too loving, I wasn't entirely sure I'd let her walk away at all.
So I stayed where I was. Silent. Watching her leave. Watching her look back at me like she was struggling with the exact same thing.
Then she was gone.
Pulled back into the crowd, swallowed by soft lights and distant conversation until all that remained was the space she'd been standing in seconds earlier.
Empty. And somehow that felt worse than not seeing her at all.
"I'm sorry," Rhys said again quietly beside me.
I stared at the doorway she had disappeared through for a long moment before finally exhaling.
"It's not your fault," I said eventually.
But my voice sounded distant even to me because all I could think about was the way she looked at me.
The way she still reacted to me. The way, for a few impossible minutes, it had felt like we belonged to each other again.
And now all I was left with was regret. Regret that I hadn't stopped her. Regret that I had.
Maybe words wouldn't have fixed anything. Maybe they would've ruined us completely.
But standing there afterwards, with her absence settling heavily into my chest all over again, I realised something that made the ache worse.
The break had never actually taught me how to live without her.
It had only taught me how often I reached for her anyway.
A/N - They actually run into each other!! Feyre's art gallery somehow became the setting for maximum yearning and both of them remembering exactly why being apart has been so hard!
They both kind of realise what they've been missing (spoiler: it's each other), and unfortunately for them that realisation hurts a little more than expected :(
Thank you so much for reading <33
The Way Back tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @chxosangxl @ivy-34 @herblueside @acourtofbatboydreams @sunny1616
Summary - In a season of balls, gossip, and carefully arranged marriages, she intended to do the one thing no lady was supposed to do.
Refuse. Refuse the marriage. Refuse the man. Refuse the life chosen for her.
The problem was that the man she intended to refuse was Rhysand, and Rhysand was not a man easily refused.
Their story began not with a dance but with an attempted escape, a ruined reputation, a scandal in the rain, and a kiss that should never have happened.
He did not want a wife. She did not want a husband.
Society would call it a courtship. They would call it a war.
A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
Another requested fic, and I was so excited to write it! Season 2 of Bridgerton is my favorite and Anthony's character totally gives Rhysand vibes x
This fic is packed with some of my absolute favourite tropes—enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity—and I had so much fun bringing it to life. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Your votes and comments mean the world to me <3
Loud with laughter, loud with arguments over stupid games, loud with music and too much wine and Cassian trying to outdrink everyone and failing every single year.
Solstice meant warmth and family and too many presents and Mor decorating everything in sight whether anyone wanted her to or not. Solstice meant happiness. Solstice meant us.
Which was exactly why I didn't want to go.
"I'm not going," I said quietly, not looking up from where I sat at the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of my sleeve between my fingers.
Behind me, I heard Azriel stop moving. "What do you mean you're not going?" he asked.
"I'm tired," I replied.
It was the same excuse I had been using for weeks now. I'm tired. I don't feel well. Maybe next time. Tell them I said hello.
Silence filled the room for a long moment.
"It's Solstice," he said finally.
I nodded slightly, still not looking at him. "I know."
"We always go."
"I know."
"They're expecting us."
"I know."
My voice was quiet. Flat. Empty.
I heard him exhale slowly behind me, and I knew that sound. It was the sound he made when he was trying very hard to stay calm.
"Look at me," he said. I didn't. "I said look at me."
Something in his voice made my chest tighten. I turned slowly.
He was standing near the door, already dressed for the evening, shadows drifting restlessly around his shoulders. His hazel eyes were fixed on me, intense and tired and something else, something frustrated, something hurt.
"You can't keep doing this," he said quietly.
"Doing what?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant.
"Pulling away. From everyone. From me." His jaw tightened slightly. "From the bond."
I froze. "I'm not—"
"You are," he cut in gently but firmly. "You've been shielding yourself from me for weeks."
I looked away immediately, my throat tightening. "I just... I can't handle feeling everything all the time."
"That's not what you're doing," he said. "You're not just quiet—you're shutting me out."
I stood up then, suddenly feeling trapped, like the walls were too close and the air too heavy.
"I'm not shutting you out," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I just don't want to feel pitied all the time. I don't want everyone looking at me like I'm going to break."
"I don't pity you," he said immediately.
"You should," I whispered. The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His expression changed instantly. "Don't say that."
"Why not?" I asked, my voice rising slightly for the first time in weeks. "It's true."
"It's not."
"I lost our baby, Azriel!" I snapped, the words ripping out of me so suddenly we both froze.
Silence slammed into the room.
My chest heaved as I stared at him, tears already burning in my eyes.
"I can't keep losing babies," I whispered, my voice breaking completely now. "I can't go through that again. I can't pretend I'm strong enough for that."
His face fell slightly, pain flashing across his eyes.
"You don't know that it will happen again," he said carefully.
"But what if it does?" I demanded, tears now spilling over. "What if that's just what my body does? What if I get pregnant and lose them over and over again? I can't survive that, Azriel. I can't bury our children before they even get to live."
"You are not broken," he said firmly.
"Yes, I am!" I shouted, the words echoing off the walls. "My body was supposed to protect our baby and it didn't! It failed! I failed!"
He took a step toward me. "You did not fail."
"I did," I said, backing away slightly. "And you deserve a mate who can give you children. Someone who can give you a family. Someone who doesn't break the first time something goes wrong."
The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the hurt on his face. Real hurt. Like I had struck him.
"Don't," he said quietly. Dangerously quietly. "Don't ever say that again."
"Why?" I asked, crying openly now. "It's true. You deserve—"
"I chose you," he said, cutting me off, his voice suddenly sharp with emotion. "I chose you. Not children. Not a future that looks a certain way. You."
I stared at him, tears blurring my vision.
"I would rather have you and no children," he continued, his voice shaking slightly now, "than children and not you. Do you understand that? Because I don't think you do."
My chest tightened painfully.
"You think I'm not grieving?" he asked, his voice rising slightly for the first time. "You think losing our baby didn't destroy me too? You think I don't think about it every single day?"
I had never heard him like this. Never.
"But you shut me out," he continued, his voice breaking now. "You decided you were the only one allowed to grieve. You decided to carry all of this alone and you didn't even give me a choice."
"I didn't want to hurt you more," I whispered.
"You didn't want to hurt me?" he repeated, disbelief in his voice. "Watching you disappear in front of me is hurting me. Feeling you block me out of the bond is hurting me. Listening to you cry every night and pretend you're not crying is hurting me."
I froze. "You... you knew?" I whispered.
"I know everything about you," he said softly. "I always have."
That broke something in me completely.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I sobbed. "I was supposed to be a mother. We were supposed to have a family and I ruined it and I don't know how to fix it and I don't know how to be the person I was before and I just feel broken all the time—"
He crossed the room in two steps and pulled me into him, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.
"You are not broken," he said into my hair, his voice shaking now too. "You are grieving. And so am I. And we are supposed to be doing that together, not on opposite sides of a wall."
I clung to him then, sobbing into his chest, weeks of grief and guilt and loneliness pouring out all at once.
"I miss them," I whispered. "I miss someone I never even got to meet."
"I know," he whispered back. "I miss them too."
We stood there in the middle of the room, both crying, both holding onto each other like we were the only things keeping the other standing.
"I'm scared," I admitted quietly. "I'm scared to try again. I'm scared to hope again."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently holding my face.
"Then we don't try again until you're ready," he said. "And if you're never ready, then that's fine too. I meant what I said. I chose you. I will always choose you."
My tears kept falling, but something in my chest loosened slightly for the first time in weeks.
"I thought I lost everything," I whispered.
He pressed his forehead against mine. "You didn't lose me."
And for the first time since the miscarriage, I let the shields around the bond fall completely.
Grief flooded through it immediately. His grief. My grief. Our grief.
But underneath it—love. Still there. Still strong. Still ours.
And we stood there on Solstice night, holding each other in the quiet instead of celebrating, finally grieving the same loss together instead of alone.
Azriel's POV -
"And you are certain you want to go now?" I asked carefully.
She didn't look at me at first, just smoothed her hands down the front of her silver dress, straightening fabric that didn't need straightening.
"I am dressed, am I not?" she replied.
I watched her for a moment, taking in the way she had actually done her hair, the way she had put on jewellery she hadn't touched in weeks, the way her shoulders were pulled back like she was bracing herself for battle instead of a celebration.
It was the first time in weeks she had looked like herself. Or at least, something close to it.
"And you look beautiful," I said quietly.
She glanced at me then, and for a brief moment, just a second, I saw something familiar in her eyes.
Not happiness. Not fully. But something softer than the emptiness that had been there for weeks.
"Thank you," she said.
We flew to the House of Wind in silence.
I kept my hand at the small of her back when we appeared in the hallway, more out of instinct than anything else. I wasn't sure if I was steadying her or myself.
Voices and laughter echoed down the corridor from the main room. Music played softly somewhere in the background, and the scent of food and wine filled the air.
For a moment, she didn't move.
I felt the hesitation through the bond, a flicker of nerves, of uncertainty, of grief trying to claw its way back in.
"You don't have to stay long," I murmured quietly to her. "We can leave whenever you want."
She nodded once, then squared her shoulders.
"No," she said softly. "If we're doing this, we're doing it properly."
Then she walked into the room. Conversation stopped almost immediately.
Rhys was the first to notice us, his violet eyes widening slightly before his expression softened.
Cassian froze mid-sentence, a glass in his hand, Mor beside him with a ribbon she had clearly been using to decorate something, and Amren looked up from where she sat like she had known we were coming but didn't expect it anyway.
The room went quiet. Too quiet. They were all looking at her like she might disappear if they moved too fast.
I felt her tense slightly beside me.
Then she sighed. "Mother above," she said, looking around at all of them. "If you all keep staring at me like I'm about to shatter, I'm going to turn around and go home."
Cassian immediately put his hands up. "Right. No staring. No staring. Everyone be normal."
"You are the least normal one in this room," Mor said, elbowing him.
"That's not true," Cassian argued. "Amren once threatened to kill me over a puzzle."
"It was a bad puzzle," Amren replied flatly.
And just like that, the tension cracked slightly.
My mate rolled her eyes softly and walked further into the room, hugging Rhys first, then Mor. Cassian hesitated for only half a second before pulling her into a careful hug like he was afraid to squeeze too hard.
"It's good to see you," he said quietly to her.
"It's good to be seen as someone and not a tragedy," she replied lightly, though I felt the sadness under the words through the bond.
Rhys clasped her shoulder gently. "We're glad you came."
"I almost didn't," she admitted.
"But you did," he said softly.
"Yes," my mate replied. "I did."
The night went better than I expected.
They laughed. Cassian told ridiculous stories. Mor forced everyone to play some stupid Solstice game. Rhys and Amren exchanged looks like they were having entire conversations without speaking. Cassian complained about the food and then ate more than anyone else.
And slowly, very slowly, she started to relax. Not completely.
But she laughed once. A real laugh. I hadn't heard that sound in weeks, and it hit me so hard in the chest I had to look away for a moment.
Later in the evening, Mor clapped her hands together. "Presents," she announced. "Everyone sit down before Cassian tries to open all of his first."
"I do not do that," Cassian said defensively, already reaching for a box.
"You absolutely do," Rhys replied.
We all gathered around the sitting area, exchanging gifts one by one. It was loud and chaotic and normal in a way that felt almost strange after the past few months.
I kept watching my mate, making sure she was alright, making sure the night wasn't becoming too much for her.
She was sitting beside me, smiling softly as Mor opened a necklace from Amren, when her gaze drifted toward a small package sitting slightly off to the side of the pile.
It was wrapped in soft blue paper with a silver ribbon. I saw Mor notice it at the exact same moment she did.
My mate reached for it. "Whose is this one?"
Mor moved immediately. "Oh—don't open that one."
It was too late. She had already pulled the ribbon loose.
Time seemed to slow as she peeled back the paper carefully, revealing a small stuffed toy.
A little bat. Soft black fabric, tiny stitched wings, small round ears. Someone had sewn it by hand, I could tell immediately.
For a baby.
The room went completely silent.
Mor looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. "I—I bought it months ago," she said quickly, her voice soft and apologetic. "I forgot it was in that pile. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for you to—"
My mate was staring at the little stuffed bat in her hands. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced one of the tiny wings.
I felt the grief hit her through the bond like a wave.
I tensed beside her, ready to take the toy, ready to end this moment, ready to get her out of the room if I had to.
But then she inhaled slowly.
Her eyes glistened with tears, but she blinked them back and carefully held the little bat against her chest for just a second before looking up at Mor.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Mor looked confused. "I didn't mean to—"
"No," my mate said gently. "I mean it. Thank you."
Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept going. "It would have been their first Solstice," she said quietly. "So... thank you for thinking of them."
The room was completely silent again, but this time it wasn't tense. It was soft. Sad. Loving.
Mor's eyes filled with tears immediately as she moved over and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"I know," my mate replied softly.
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She leaned into me without hesitation.
And for the first time since we lost the baby, sitting there surrounded by our family, with that tiny stuffed bat in her hands and tears in her eyes but a small, real smile on her face—
It felt like maybe, slowly, painfully, we were going to be okay.
A/N - They finally had the conversation they both desperately needed. Azriel said "absolutely not, we are suffering together" and dragged every feeling into the open!!
Azriel's POV gave them a tiny bit of normalcy again, everyone trying so hard to support them without smothering them x
And Mor's gift... yeah that one hurt but I wanted it to feel bittersweet instead of purely sad, like their baby was still loved, still remembered, still part of the family even if they never got to meet them :(
not my fic wrap up but i think this one should be written alone cause i just read scars aligned... that was the most beautiful thing i've read in a while and i know i always say the same thing every time but i find your writing so refreshing, so beautiful, so ethereal...
no kisses, nothing carnal, only two souls learning from each other how to survive in a world that seems to fall down around them. rhys trauma is a very sensitive topic for me because i love him so much and sometimes it seems that his trauma is overlooked and not talked about it enough.
i loved this short series because you didnt need to make them mates or a couple to know they share love, companionship, friendship... it was even more beautiful than any fic ive read where they end up falling in love with each other. i love those fics dont get me wrong, but i think from time to time we need to remember that love doesnt need to be found in a partner, there is love in the words, the soul, the lingering gazes... i got carried away :")
anyway, im always in love with your work and the amount of series you write throughtout the weeks, months, is IMPRESSIVE
you deserve this flowers for your hard work <333
STOP IT RIGHT NOW IM CRYING 🥹 you are so incredibly sweet angel i appreciate this sm because Scars Aligned was a story i contemplated the MOST.
it’s personal to me so i was nervous posting it but this is the exact feedback that fills me with relief and makes it worth it 😭😭
i am so grateful you took the time to say this—thank you truly 🫶🏼
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My life, over the last week, had settled into something I didn't recognise.
Not chaos. Not even heartbreak in the way people describe it, loud, consuming, impossible to ignore.
It was quieter than that. A constant, dull ache that sat just beneath everything I did. Present in every moment, every breath, every thought that didn't quite finish the way it used to.
The absence of Eris Vanserra didn't feel dramatic. It felt wrong.
Like something essential had been removed from my life without warning, and everything left behind was still trying to function like it hadn't.
And the worst part?
Now that we had space, now that we had stepped back, done the "right" thing, the "healthy" thing, all I could remember were the good parts.
Not the missed calls. Not the silence. Not the distance that had driven us here in the first place.
Just him. Laughing. Looking at me like I was something he never wanted to lose. The way his voice softened when he said my name. The way everything used to feel... easy.
It made me angry. Furious, actually.
Where was this clarity when it mattered? Where was this overwhelming flood of good when we were standing in his apartment, trying to decide whether or not we were breaking ourselves apart?
Now it was all I had. And it hurt.
Feyre checked in constantly. She didn't push, not really. Just enough to make sure I didn't completely disappear into myself.
And with her, I talked. I let things slip out in pieces. Half-formed thoughts. Fragments of feelings I didn't know how to organise.
But with everyone else?
I avoided it. Carefully. Skillfully. Like if I didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't become something real.
"Hey, are you bringing your boyfriend to tomorrow's office mixer?"
The question came out of nowhere, casual and light, like it didn't carry the weight it suddenly did.
I froze slightly, my fingers pausing over my keyboard as I looked up at my coworker.
"I know Daniel's been dying to meet the infamous man," she added with a grin, screwing the lid back onto her water bottle.
Infamous. I almost laughed.
"Uh—no," I said, the hesitation slipping in before I could smooth it over. "He's... busy tomorrow. It'll just be me."
The lie sat awkwardly in my mouth. Not entirely false. Not entirely true.
"Tough," she hummed, already moving on, already uninterested. "Next time, then."
Next time. I nodded like that was something I could promise. Like there would be one. Like I knew.
I didn't.
The conversation followed me home.
It lingered in the back of my mind as I unlocked my door, as I stepped inside, as I kicked off my heels with more force than necessary.
Something so small. So normal. And yet it had unravelled something in me all over again.
Because I didn't know what to call him anymore. I didn't know what we were. I didn't know if there was a next time.
I let out a quiet breath, moving through my apartment slowly, the silence greeting me like it had all week, familiar now, but no less heavy.
I peeled off my clothes absentmindedly, letting them fall where they wanted as I crossed to my closet, my movements automatic.
Until I stopped. My breath caught slightly.
There it was. Hanging in plain view like it had every right to be there. Eris's hoodie.
My fingers twitched at my sides as I stared at it, my chest tightening in a way I hadn't expected from something so... ordinary.
It was just a hoodie. Dark. Worn. Comfortable.
The one I used to steal constantly, just to watch him roll his eyes, just to hear him complain in that way that never actually meant anything.
"You're not getting that back."
"It's mine."
"It looks better on me."
"Everything looks better on you, that's not the point."
God. I swallowed hard. Before I could think about it, before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped forward and pulled it off the hanger.
The fabric was soft under my fingers. Familiar. Too familiar.
I slipped it on without hesitation, letting it fall over me, the sleeves long enough to swallow my hands, the hem brushing mid-thigh. I didn't reach for anything else. Didn't need to.
This was how he liked it. The thought hit me too late.
I exhaled shakily and moved toward my bed, sitting down slowly, my fingers already reaching for my phone before I could stop them.
I didn't think. Not really. I didn't give myself time to reconsider. If I had I wouldn't have done it.
My thumb pressed his contact. It rang once. Twice. Then—
"Hello?"
His voice came through quickly. Too quickly. Like he'd been waiting. Like he hadn't hesitated at all to answer.
It knocked the breath out of me more than anything else had that day.
"Eris," I whispered, my fingers tightening slightly in the sleeve as I pulled my knees up to my chest.
A beat passed. He spoke softly.
"Yes, love."
My chest ached at the word. He said it so easily. Like nothing had changed. Like everything had.
"I—" I faltered, my eyes darting around my room, landing on anything that wasn't the conversation I had just started. "I accidentally took your hoodie."
There was a pause. Not long. Just enough.
"The Arctic Monkeys one?" he asked. Of course he knew which one.
"Yeah," I exhaled quietly.
A faint sound came through the line. A breath. Almost a laugh. "It looks better on you anyway."
And just like that warmth spread through me, sharp and immediate, settling somewhere deep in my chest where everything else had been cold all week.
I closed my eyes briefly. I had missed that. Missed him. More than I had let myself admit.
I could hear him breathing.
I wondered if he was lying down like I was. I wondered if he was staring at the ceiling. I wondered if he was thinking about me.
"Eris," I said again, softer this time. Careful.
"Yes, love."
The same answer. The same tone. It made this harder.
"We probably shouldn't be doing this," I whispered, even as I tightened my grip on the phone. "But... I miss you."
The silence that followed was heavier this time. More real. More dangerous.
"We probably shouldn't," he agreed finally, his voice quieter now. Reluctant. Like the words cost him something. "But I miss you more."
My throat tightened. God.
"Are you going to hang up?" I asked because I didn't trust myself to do it. Because I didn't know if I could.
A soft exhale came through the line.
"You do it first," he said, a hint of something rough in his voice. "I don't want to be the one who hangs up on you."
That hurt more than it should have.
"Okay," I whispered.
I hesitated. Just for a second. Trying to hold onto the sound of him for a moment longer.
"Bye, Eris."
He didn't answer immediately. For a second, I thought he wouldn't say it back. Then—
"Bye... love."
Softer this time. Like he wasn't sure he was allowed to say it anymore. The line went dead.
And just like that I was back in my room. Alone. Staring at his contact like it might say something else. Like it might undo what we had just done.
I didn't move. I just stared at the screen, waiting.
For what, I didn't know. For it to light up again. For his name to flash across it. For him to call back. For one of us to be weak enough to break first.
It didn't. It just stayed there. Silent.
And the ache in my chest came rushing back in, stronger this time because now I knew he was still there. Still mine in all the ways that mattered.
And still not mine in the only way that counted right now.
I curled further into his hoodie, pulling it closer around me like it could replace something it never could.
And I cried.
Eris's POV -
That phone call, her phone call had been a dangerous kind of permission.
Not real permission. Not something we had agreed on, not something we had said out loud but it felt like it.
Like a crack in something that was supposed to stay sealed. Like proof that the distance between us wasn't as solid as we were pretending it was.
And that was enough. More than enough.
Because after that, it got harder. Not easier. Never easier.
Harder to ignore the instinct. Harder to pretend I wasn't constantly reaching for something that wasn't there anymore.
I caught myself almost texting her more times than I could count.
It wasn't always something important. That was the problem. It was never something important.
The first time, it was stupid.
Lucien had managed to rip his trousers in the middle of a board meeting, standing there like he hadn't just humiliated himself in front of half the company.
I'd actually laughed. Not just a quiet breath, not just a smirk, a real laugh. The kind I hadn't heard from myself in days.
And without thinking, my hand had already reached for my phone.
Already unlocked it. Already opened her contact. Still pinned. Still right where it had always been.
My thumb hovered for barely a second before I started typing.
Me: Luc just ripped his trousers in the middle of a board meeting
I paused. Then added—
Me: Said it's because he's working too hard in the gym...
I stared at it.
I could hear her reaction. The way she'd laugh first, sharp and bright, before immediately asking questions, before turning it into something bigger, something funnier, something ours.
I could see it. Feel it. Like she was already there.
My thumb hovered over the send button. One tap. That's all it would take.
For a second I almost did it. Then something in my chest tightened. Not guilt. Not exactly. Just... awareness.
Of what this was. Of what we were supposed to be doing. Of the space we had asked for.
I exhaled slowly. And deleted it. Both messages. Gone in an instant. Like the moment had never existed. Like I hadn't almost reached for her without thinking.
I set my phone down after that. Tried to focus on the meeting. Didn't laugh again.
The second time was worse because it wasn't even funny. There was no reason for it. No excuse.
I was just adjusting the cuff of my shirt that morning, when someone, one of the executives paused on their way out and said, "Nice shirt."
Simple. Forgettable.
I would have nodded, moved on, thought nothing of it. Except she bought it for me. I remembered that instantly. The way she'd held it up, tilting her head slightly.
"This one," she'd said, like it wasn't even a question.
"It's just a shirt."
"It's your shirt," she corrected. "Trust me."
I hadn't argued. I never did when she looked that certain.
And now I was standing there, staring at my reflection, hearing her voice like it hadn't been days since I'd last heard it properly.
Before I could stop myself, I reached for my phone again. Unlocked it. Opened her contact.
Me: Someone complimented the shirt you bought me
I didn't even think about it. Didn't question it. Didn't hesitate the way I should have.
Because this was normal.
This was what I used to do. Tell her things that didn't matter. Because they mattered to her. Because she made them matter.
My thumb hovered over the screen. And that's when it hit me. Harder than before.
There was no reason to send this. No urgency. No importance. No excuse.
I just wanted to tell her. Wanted to hear her respond. Wanted to feel that small, familiar thread between us pull tight again.
Just for a second. Just long enough to remind myself it was still there.
My jaw tightened slightly. And slowly I deleted it. Again. Watched the words disappear like they meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.
But that wasn't the truth. That was the problem.
She meant everything. And I wasn't allowed to reach for her anymore.
That was the worst part. Not the silence. Not even the distance. But this—
Realising I didn't need a reason. That I didn't need something big or important or urgent to justify it.
I just wanted her.
In the smallest ways. In the meaningless moments. In the things no one else would understand or care about.
I wanted to tell her things that didn't matter because they mattered to us.
And now there was nowhere for them to go. Now they just... stayed with me. Unsaid. Unshared. Pointless.
I stared at my phone for a long time after that. Turning it over in my hand. Unlocking it. Locking it again.
Like I was testing myself. Like I was seeing how close I could get without breaking.
Part of me wanted to throw it. Hard. Against the wall. Watch it shatter, watch the screen crack, watch the temptation disappear with it.
Because at least then I'd have an excuse. At least then I wouldn't have to keep choosing not to reach for her.
I didn't. I just sat there. Holding it. Knowing full well it wasn't the phone that was the problem.
It was me.
And no matter how many messages I deleted, no matter how many times I stopped myself, it didn't change the one thing I couldn't undo.
I still wanted her.
A/N - She finally caves and we get their first (very brief) contact after the break and it's full of longing, tension, and feelings they definitely shouldn't be indulging in!!
Eris is fighting for his life every single day trying not to text her about the most random little things. Unfortunately, he's also stubborn enough to remember that this space was something they both agreed to... even if every instinct in him is screaming otherwise :(
The mutual pining is alive and well, everyone x
Thank you so much for reading <33
The Way Back tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @chxosangxl @ivy-34 @herblueside @acourtofbatboydreams @sunny1616
The sun still rose over Velaris every morning, spilling gold across the river like nothing in the world had changed. Fae still laughed in the streets. Shops still opened. Music still drifted through open windows at night.
The world kept moving.
Like my heart hadn't been ripped from my chest, torn apart, and left somewhere I would never find it again.
Weeks passed. I knew they passed because the light outside the windows kept changing and because Azriel kept gently reminding me what day it was when I seemed to forget.
But time didn't feel real anymore. It felt thick and slow and distant, like I was watching my life from underwater instead of actually living it.
Some days I didn't know if I had slept. Some days I didn't know if I had eaten. Some days I wasn't even sure I was really alive.
Azriel was beside me always. I knew that much.
Even when I didn't look at him, even when I didn't speak, I knew he was there. I could feel him through the bond, steady, constant, quiet now instead of warm and bright like it used to be.
The bond felt different. Heavy. Muted.
Like both of us were grieving so loudly inside our own heads that the bond didn't know how to carry it anymore.
Everybody else was there too, Mor, Rhysand, Cassian, Amren. They came to the house often. They spoke softly around me. They tried to talk to me sometimes.
I didn't really see them. I didn't really see anything.
I avoided one room in the house completely. The nursery.
We had only just started planning it. I had walked past that room once, just once. I hadn't gone near that hallway again since.
Because the silence in that room was too loud. Because that room had been full of a future that didn't exist anymore.
I didn't eat much.
Food tasted like nothing. Everything felt like nothing. Hunger felt like nothing. Azriel tried, he tried but I just... didn't care.
One evening, they were all there again.
I sat at the dining table because Azriel had asked me to. Because he had looked so tired when he asked that I couldn't say no.
Mor had cooked. I could smell it, something warm and sweet and familiar. One of my favourite meals. She set the plate in front of me carefully like it might break.
"Just a few bites," she said gently, sitting beside me. "You don't have to eat all of it."
Cassian sat across from me, unusually quiet, his hands folded on the table instead of constantly moving like they usually did.
Rhys leaned against the counter, watching in that calm, observant way of his.
Amren stood by the window, pretending she wasn't paying attention at all.
Azriel sat beside me. Close enough that our legs touched. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him. Close enough that if I moved even slightly I would be in his arms.
He didn't say anything at first. He just slid the fork a little closer to my hand.
"Try," he said quietly.
Just one word.
I stared at the plate. I knew this food. I knew I loved this food. I knew there had been a time when I would have eaten it happily, laughing with everyone at this table.
Now it just looked like... food. Nothing more. Nothing important.
"I'm not hungry," I said softly.
Cassian leaned forward slightly. "You don't have to be hungry," he said, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it. "Just eat a little anyway."
Mor nodded quickly. "Please. Just a few bites."
I picked up the fork slowly. Everyone in the room went very still.
I cut a small piece. Smaller than a bite even. I stared at it for a long time before finally lifting it to my mouth. I chewed. Swallowed. It tasted like nothing. I put the fork down.
"I'm going to bed," I said quietly.
Azriel's hand immediately closed gently around my wrist. Not tight. Not forcing. Just stopping me for a moment.
"Stay a little longer," he said softly.
I looked at him then. Really looked at him.
He looked tired. Not physically, Azriel rarely looked physically tired but something in his eyes was exhausted. Worn down. Like he hadn't slept properly in weeks.
Like he was losing me and didn't know how to stop it.
"I can't," I whispered.
My voice broke on the last word and I hated that it did.
"I can't pretend I'm okay. I can't sit here and eat and laugh like nothing happened. I can't—" My throat tightened painfully. "I can't do this."
No one spoke. The silence hurt worse than if they had argued.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, though I wasn't even sure what I was apologising for anymore.
For not eating. For not talking. For not being the person I used to be. For losing the baby. For everything.
I stood up slowly. No one tried to stop me this time.
I walked toward the stairs, but I stopped halfway up because suddenly the house felt too big. Too empty. Too full of ghosts of a future that didn't exist anymore.
"I failed him," I said quietly.
I hadn't meant to say it out loud but the words were there suddenly, hanging in the air where everyone could hear them.
I didn't turn around.
"I failed Azriel," I whispered. "I failed our baby. I failed our future."
"Don't," Azriel said immediately, his voice sharp with pain. "Don't say that."
But I shook my head slightly, staring at the stairs in front of me.
"My body was supposed to protect them," I said quietly. "That was the one thing I was supposed to do, and I couldn't even do that."
"That is not your fault," Rhys said firmly from behind me.
"It feels like it is," I replied.
Silence again. Heavy.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I admitted softly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. Everything we talked about... everything we planned... it's just gone."
My chest hurt so badly it felt like I couldn't breathe properly.
"I feel lost," I whispered. "Like I'm walking around in someone else's life and I don't know how to get back to mine."
No one had an answer for that. Because there wasn't one.
I went upstairs after that, slowly, like each step took more energy than it should have. I didn't hear anyone talking downstairs. I didn't hear anyone eating.
I just felt the bond behind me, quiet, heavy, full of grief and love and helplessness all tangled together.
I lay down in bed without changing, curling onto my side and staring at the empty space in front of me.
Weeks ago, there had been a future there. Small clothes. Laughter. A child with Azriel's eyes or my smile.
Now there was just silence and the worst part was—the world kept turning anyway.
Like none of it had mattered. Like our baby had never existed at all.
Azriel's POV -
I had noticed her pulling away.
Not physically, not at first. She still slept beside me. Still sat beside me when I guided her gently to the table. Still let me hold her hand when I reached for it.
But through the bond... through the bond she was drifting further away every day.
The mating bond had always been warm between us. Bright. Alive. It had felt like standing in sunlight even on the worst days. I could always feel her there, her emotions brushing mine, her thoughts sometimes drifting close enough that I almost heard them.
Now the bond felt quiet. Not empty. Just... distant.
Like she was standing on the other side of a long hallway instead of right beside me.
At first I told myself it was grief. That she was hurting and the bond was just heavy with it. That it would pass. That she would find her way back to me when the pain wasn't so sharp.
But then I started noticing the way the bond would suddenly go still whenever I tried to reach for her emotionally. Like a door quietly closing.
And that terrified me more than anything else had since the day we lost the baby.
My shadows followed her everywhere now.
I didn't tell them to at first, they just did it on their own. They drifted after her through the house, curled near her feet when she sat, hovered near her shoulders like silent guards. They used to play with her, tug at her hair gently, steal small objects just to make her laugh.
She used to talk to them. Now she barely reacted to them at all.
One of them brushed gently across her wrist one afternoon while she sat by the window staring out over the river. It lingered there, like it was waiting for her to acknowledge it.
She didn't move. Didn't look down. Didn't smile.
The shadow slowly retreated back to me, curling around my wrist like a wounded animal. That hurt more than I expected.
Nights were the worst. She thought I didn't know. She thought I was asleep.
I would lie there on my back, eyes closed, breathing slow and even while she lay beside me facing away, so still I almost believed she was asleep too.
Then, after a long time, I would hear it. Quiet. So quiet most people wouldn't have noticed.
But I noticed everything about her.
Small, uneven breaths. The slight tremble of the mattress. The sound of her trying to cover her mouth with her hand so I wouldn't hear.
She cried almost every night. Silently. Alone. Inches away from me.
And I didn't know what to do.
Sometimes I would turn slightly and wrap an arm around her waist, pretending I was just moving in my sleep. She would go very still when I did that, like she was afraid if she moved I would wake up and realise she was crying.
I wanted to tell her I already knew.
I wanted to turn her toward me and hold her and tell her she didn't have to do this alone.
But every time I tried, she would go quiet and still and distant again, and I was terrified that if I pushed too hard she would pull away even more.
So instead, I started reaching for her through the bond.
At night, when everything was quiet and she thought she was alone in her grief, I would reach carefully, slowly, sending whatever I could through the bond.
Love. Patience.
I would send the feelings instead of words, hoping she would feel them, hoping she would understand what I didn't know how to say out loud.
Sometimes I felt her on the other side of the bond.
Raw grief. Guilt. Emptiness so deep it felt like falling.
Every time I felt that guilt, sharp and poisonous, I pushed back harder with reassurance, with love, with everything I had.
It worked at first. She didn't respond, but she didn't block me either.
Until one night she did. I reached for her like I always did, slow, gentle, careful not to overwhelm her.
And I felt it. A wall. Not a violent one. Not angry. Not sharp. Just... closed.
Like she had quietly shut a door and locked it and was standing on the other side pretending everything was fine.
I froze. I had never felt that from her before. Not once in all the years we had been mated.
"Don't," she whispered suddenly into the darkness.
My eyes opened immediately.
She was still facing away from me, her back to my chest, her body curled slightly inward like she was trying to make herself smaller.
"Don't what?" I asked quietly.
"Don't try to make me feel better through the bond," she said softly. Her voice was tired. Empty. "I can feel you doing it."
I swallowed slowly, my chest tightening. "I'm not trying to fix you," I said. "I'm just trying to be there with you."
"I know," she whispered. "That's what makes it worse."
That felt like a knife between my ribs.
She pulled the emotional wall tighter then, not completely blocking the bond but dulling it, muting it, turning it into something distant and quiet.
For the first time since we had been mated, I couldn't really feel her anymore.
And I realised then that losing the baby had broken both of us but now I was terrified that I was losing her too.
I lay awake the rest of that night staring at the ceiling, listening to her quiet breathing, feeling the muted, distant echo of the bond between us, and for the first time in centuries—
I had no idea how to fix something that mattered more to me than my own life.
And that helplessness was slowly tearing me apart.
A/N - There's a strain on their relationship now, and it's nobody's fault—not hers and not Azriel's!
This part is more about the aftermath and how trauma responses can look different for different people, even when they love each other deeply and are trying their best in their own ways. Healing isn't linear, and sometimes it's messy, quiet, and uncomfortable before it gets better.
It's a tough read I know but I promise things start to ease up a little in the next part x
