Chapter 165: One Step At he time

That night, I couldn't sleep. Lay in the small bed I'd set up for myself across the room so Darian would be more comfortable—and because I wasn’t ready to share the same bed with him—, and listened to him breathe.

He couldn't sleep either. I heard him shift. Turn over. Shift again.

The bond told me he was in pain. Not severe. But enough to keep him awake.

I should let him handle it himself. Should stay where I was and let him rest.

I sat up instead.

"Darian?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not sleeping."

"Neither are you."

Fair point.

I got up. Crossed the room. Sat on the edge of his bed.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me anyway."

He hesitated. Then gestured to his ribs. "Here. One of the injuries. I think the bandage is too tight."

I reached for the hem of his shirt. Paused. "Can I?"

"Yes."

I lifted the fabric carefully. Exposed the bandage wrapped around his torso.

He was right. It was too tight. It was not a serious or big injury, but the skin around the edges looked irritated.

"I'll rewrap it," I said.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

I unwrapped the bandage slowly. The injury underneath was almost healed, but I cleaned it with fresh water and applied more salve.

My hands were steady. Professional.

But I was aware of everything. The warmth of his skin. The way his muscles tensed under my touch. The sound of his breathing.

Too close. We were too close.

I started wrapping the new bandage. Focused on the task. On keeping my hands from shaking.

His hand caught my wrist. Gentle. Not restraining. Just present.

I looked up. Met his eyes.

Gray. Clear. Intense.

Neither of us moved.

The bond flared. Hot and bright. Insistent.

We were inches apart. I could feel his breath. Could smell that winter scent that made my wolf perk up.

The tension was electric. Made the air feel heavy.

"Lyra," he said softly.

"What?"

"I don't want you to do this out of obligation."

"Do what?"

"This. Caring for me. Staying close. Any of it."

I swallowed. My throat was tight. "It's not obligation."

"What is it then?"

I didn't have words. Didn't know how to explain the pull I felt. The need to be near him. The way my chest ached when we were apart.

"I don't know," I admitted.

His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. Light. Careful.

"I need it to be your choice," he said. "Not the bond's. Not destiny's. Yours."

"It is my choice."

"Is it?"

We looked at each other. The question hung between us.

His hand was still on my wrist. My fingers still held the bandage. We were frozen. Caught in the moment.

I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to close the distance and stop thinking. Stop questioning.

But fear held me back. Fear that if I took that step, everything would change. That I'd lose control. That I'd fall completely and never recover.

So I stayed still. Didn't move forward. Didn't pull away.

Just existed in that space between wanting and having.

"Lyra," he whispered.

"I'm here."

"I know."

Silence. Heavy and charged.

Then he let go of my wrist. Gave me space.

"Finish the bandage," he said quietly.

I did. Wrapped it carefully. Secured it. Pulled his shirt back down.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes. Thank you."

I stood. Started to move back to my own bed.

"Stay," he said.

I looked back.

"Please," he added. "Just stay close. I sleep better when you're near."

I grabbed my blanket. Brought it to his bed. Lay down on top of the covers beside him.

Not touching. Just close.

The bond hummed. Content.

"This is okay?" I asked.

"Yes."

We lay in the darkness. Listening to each other breathe.

Sleep came easier after that.

The next morning, I woke to find him already awake. Sitting up. Looking better than he had in days.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

I sat up. Ran a hand through my hair. It was a mess. I hadn't bothered braiding it.

"We need to talk," he said.

My stomach dropped. "About what?"

"About us."

I waited. Didn't trust my voice.

"I don't want to pressure you," he said. "I don't want you to feel like the bond is forcing you into anything."

"Okay."

"But I also don't want to keep existing in this space where neither of us knows what we're doing."

"What are you saying?"

He looked at me. Direct. Honest. "I'm saying we should do this properly. If we're going to be together, let's be together. On purpose."

"How?"

"Slowly. Deliberately. We spend time together. Go on dates. Train together. Share space without expectations. Let it build naturally instead of being forced by circumstance."

My face heated. "Dates?"

"Yes. Dates. Normal couple things."

"I don't know how to do normal couple things."

"Neither do I. But we can figure it out."

I looked at him. At his serious expression. At the hope barely hidden behind his eyes.

He was giving me an out. A way to step back. To slow down.

But also a way forward. If I wanted it.

"What about the bond?" I asked.

"What about it?"

"Won't it keep pushing us together anyway?"

"Probably. But at least we'll know we chose it. That it's not just destiny dragging us along."

I thought about it. About what he was offering.

A chance to build something real. Something that belonged to us. Not to fate or prophecy or magical bonds.

Something we chose.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay?"

"Yes. Let's try. The slow way. The deliberate way."

He smiled. Genuine and warm. "You're sure?"

"No. But I want to be."

"That's enough."

We looked at each other. The morning light filled the room. Everything felt new. Uncertain.

But also possible.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Now we start. Small steps. No pressure."

"Small steps," I repeated.

He reached for my hand. I gave it to him.

One step at the time. I liked that idea.