The night didn't feel like the night anymore.
It felt… soft.
Warm.
Safe.
Austin sat on the kitchen counter, the edge pressing faintly against the back of his thighs through the thin fabric of the maroon robe draped over his frame. The fabric was worn in the way only something familiar could be, softened by years of use, carrying the faint scent of detergent and something deeper beneath it, something that felt like home.
The glow from his laptop painted his face in pale blue light, reflecting faintly in his eyes as lines of text scrolled across the screen. University names. Acceptance rates. Programs. Tuition costs. All of it blending into one long stream of decisions he wasn't quite ready to make.
His fingers hovered over the trackpad, scrolling absentmindedly.
Harvard.
Stanford.
Yale.
Big names.
Big futures.
He exhaled quietly through his nose, leaning back just slightly as the soft hum of the house settled around him.
Behind him, the steady sound of running water filled the kitchen. Plates clinked gently. Porcelain against porcelain. The rhythm was slow, unhurried, almost… soothing.
Clara.
She stood at the sink, her back partially turned to him, shoulders relaxed as warm water ran over her hands. The cream satin night dress she wore caught the light in soft waves, clinging gently to her frame, shifting with every small movement she made. It brushed just above her knees, the fabric smooth, almost liquid in the way it draped against her skin.
Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands falling free around her face, sticking slightly where steam from the sink had warmed the air.
She hummed quietly.
Some tune Austin didn't recognize, but it didn't matter.
It fit.
Everything about this moment fit.
Too well.
…this is nice.
The thought came easy.
Too easy.
Austin's gaze lingered on the screen for a second longer before drifting away, settling on her without him really deciding to look.
He watched the way her shoulders moved.
The way she leaned slightly into the counter.
The small, unconscious sway in her stance.
God… he missed that.
Missed her.
Missed this.
The kettle began to whistle.
Sharp at first.
Then louder.
Clara paused, glancing toward it before turning off the stove with an easy motion. The sound cut instantly, leaving behind a quiet that felt fuller somehow.
She reached for a mug without looking, fingers wrapping around the handle with familiarity born from repetition. Coffee grounds. Water. The rich scent bloomed almost instantly, spreading through the kitchen in warm, bitter notes.
Austin inhaled without thinking.
It grounded him.
She turned then, stepping toward him, the mug cradled in her hands. The faint warmth rising from it curled into the air between them.
"Here," she said softly.
Her voice… it hadn't changed.
Not even a little.
She placed the mug beside him on the counter, close enough that the heat brushed against his hand.
Then she leaned in.
A quick kiss to his cheek.
Soft.
Warm.
Real.
Austin didn't move at first.
Didn't speak.
He just let it sit there for a second.
That simple contact.
That small, familiar affection.
God…
Clara pulled away, already turning back toward the sink like it was nothing, like it was routine, like it hadn't just shifted something inside his chest.
And as she turned—
His hand moved.
Quick and light.
A playful smack against her butt.
The sound was soft, barely more than a tap.
But it was enough.
Clara gasped lightly, more in surprise than anything else, her body jerking just a little before she turned her head, eyes narrowing at him with mock offense.
"Really?" she said, though there was a smile tugging at her lips.
A giggle slipped out anyway, betraying the act.
Austin leaned back on his hands, a grin spreading across his face, easy and unrestrained.
"What?" he shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Just making sure you're still real."
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in them didn't fade as she turned back to the dishes, shaking her head.
"Unbelievable."
He watched her for another second, the smile lingering before something else caught his attention.
Her feet.
Bare.
Pressed against the tile.
The kitchen floor wasn't exactly warm.
He frowned slightly.
"You're really walking around barefoot?" he said, reaching for the mug, fingers wrapping around it as he lifted it toward his lips. "It's cold."
Clara didn't even look back.
"Is it?" she replied casually.
He took a sip.
The coffee was hot, just how he liked it, the bitterness cutting through his senses in a way that felt grounding.
"It is," he said after swallowing. "Normal people feel that kind of thing."
That got her to pause.
Just for a second.
Then she glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifting slightly.
"Mm," she hummed, turning back fully now, leaning lightly against the counter as she looked at him.
There was a glint in her eyes.
Playful.
Sharp.
"Oh, right," she said, her tone shifting just enough to carry the tease. "I forgot. That's a you problem."
Austin scoffed, lowering the mug slightly.
"A me problem?"
She nodded, completely serious.
"Yeah," she said. "Cold, discomfort, basic human limitations. You know… all that fun stuff."
He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him.
"You're ridiculous."
Clara pushed off the counter, stepping closer, the soft fabric of her dress shifting with her movement.
"Not ridiculous," she corrected lightly. "Just… built different."
She tapped her chest lightly, smirking.
Austin's eyes narrowed slightly, amused.
"Yeah? That what we're calling it now?"
She leaned in just a fraction, her voice dropping playfully.
"Higher body temperature," she said matter of factly. "Better endurance. Faster healing."
A pause.
Then, softer.
"Oh, also I don't get cold. Should i go on?"
Her gaze flicked down briefly to his socks.
Then his slippers.
Then back up to his face.
"Oh," she added, almost sweetly. "And I don't need those."
Austin followed her gaze.
Then looked back up at her.
"Wow," he muttered, deadpan. "Oh my God! That's crazy." He added in playful sarcasm
He took another sip of his coffee.
"I'm still keeping mine though."
She laughed, the sound light, filling the space between them easily.
"Of course you are."
He set the mug down beside him again, glancing back at his laptop.
"Anyway," he said, scrolling again. "We need to actually figure this out."
Clara tilted her head.
"Figure what out?"
He gave her a look.
"College?" he said. "Our son? Ringing any bells?"
"Oh, that," she said, waving a hand dismissively as she turned back toward the sink. "I thought you were just browsing."
"Browsing?" he echoed. "Clara, applications open soon."
"And?"
"And we need to decide where he's applying."
She shrugged lightly.
"He'll figure it out."
Austin stared at her for a second.
"Yeah, no," he said. "That's not how this works."
She glanced back again, amused.
"Relax," she said chuckling. "He's smart."
"I know he's smart," Austin replied. "That's why this matters."
He turned the laptop slightly, angling the screen toward her.
"Look at this," he said. "Harvard."
Clara made a face instantly.
"Mm. No."
Austin blinked.
"What do you mean no?"
She rinsed a plate, setting it aside before answering.
"I mean no," she said simply. "That place screams stress."
"It's Harvard," Austin said, like that alone should settle it.
"And?" she shot back. "So what?"
"So what?" he repeated. "It's one of the best schools in the world."
She dried her hands on a towel, turning fully to face him now.
"And it's on the other side of the country," she added. "Cold, crowded, and full of people who think they're the smartest person in every room."
Austin tilted his head.
"…you just described every university."
"Exactly," she said, pointing at him. "So why send him to the worst version of it?"
He let out a breath, shaking his head slightly.
"You're impossible."
"And you're overthinking," she countered.
He leaned back slightly, studying her.
"Okay," he said. "Then what do you want?"
Clara didn't answer immediately.
She just looked at him.
Soft.
Warm.
Then she smiled.
"You..." She said in a seductive change of tone.
"Really... Come on." Austin sighed trying not to fall to her charms.
"Well, if anything he should go somewhere he's happy," she said simply.
Austin's expression shifted.
Just a little.
The room felt quieter.
"Yeah," he said after a moment. "You have a point."
A pause settled between them.
Comfortable.
Easy.
Clara said something else after that.
A joke.
Something light.
Something that made him laugh.
Really laugh.
The sound came out before he could stop it, full and unguarded, echoing faintly off the kitchen walls.
He reached for his coffee again, lifting it to his lips.
Still warm.
Still perfect.
…I missed this.
The thought came again.
Clearer this time.
Stronger.
I miss her.
He froze.
Just for a second.
The mug hovered near his lips.
His brow furrowed slightly.
…miss.
The word lingered.
Didn't sit right.
Didn't… fit.
Because—
He blinked.
Slowly.
His gaze shifted.
Clara stood right there.
Moving.
Breathing.
Alive.
So why—
You can't miss someone who's here.
The thought hit differently.
Sharper.
Austin's chest tightened slightly.
…no.
Something… wasn't right.
His fingers tightened around the mug.
Clara kept moving, unaware.
Or… pretending to be.
Clara died.
The memory didn't come all at once.
It crept in, Slow and uneven.
Ten years ago.
His breathing hitched.
Just slightly.
She died.
His heart began to beat faster.
The warmth in the room flickered.
Not visually.
But… internally.
So who is that?
Austin blinked again.
Harder this time.
The edges of the kitchen blurred for half a second.
Then snapped back.
Clara turned slightly, glancing at him.
"You okay?" she asked.
Her voice sounded the same.
Too perfect.
Too—
Wrong.
"I—" he started.
His throat felt tight.
Dry.
"I was…"
The words didn't come.
Because something else did.
A memory?
A flash.
Dark water.
The roar of an engine.
Voices.
"...sir?"
Austin's breath caught.
His chest tightened further.
Boat.
He was on a—
Boat.
The thought slammed into place.
Hard.
Mission.
His lungs burned suddenly.
Sharp.
Immediate.
He sucked in a breath—
And got nothing.
The kitchen… shifted.
Not visually at first.
But the air—
It felt thick.
Heavy.
His fingers slipped slightly on the mug.
Clara said something.
He couldn't hear it.
Because the sound—
It changed.
Muffled.
Distant.
Like it was coming from underwater.
…underwater?
His chest seized.
Pain flared.
He tried to inhale again—
Nothing.
His vision warped.
The walls of the kitchen stretched, bending slightly as something impossible began to happen.
Water.
It seeped in.
At first, just along the edges.
Then faster.
Rising.
Filling.
The floor disappeared beneath a dark, shifting surface.
The counter.
The walls.
Everything.
Submerged.
Austin's eyes widened.
No.
His body tensed as the water climbed higher, swallowing the space around him in seconds.
His robe clung to him.
Cold.
Heavy.
His laptop flickered once before going dark, bubbles escaping from its edges as it vanished beneath the rising flood.
Clara—
She was gone.
Just… gone.
Austin tried to move.
Tried to push himself off the counter—
But the world snapped.
Hard.
And suddenly—
He was there.
Not in the kitchen.
Not in the house.
But in the dark.
Underwater.
The ocean pressed in from all sides, vast and endless, swallowing light until only faint outlines remained. The surface was somewhere above him, distant, barely visible through the shifting distortion of water.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that wasn't empty.
It was suffocating.
Austin's limbs moved instinctively, his training kicking in even as panic clawed at the edges of his mind.
Control yourself.
Assess.
Move.
His chest burned.
Air.
He needed air.
He kicked.
Arms pulling through the water with practiced efficiency, body angling upward.
Find the surface.
Stay calm.
Stay calm!
Shapes drifted around him.
At first, just shadows.
Then clearer.
Bodies.
His team.
The prisoners.
Sinking.
Slowly.
Limbs limp.
Eyes empty.
Austin's heart pounded harder.
No no no—
He kicked harder.
Faster.
The surface didn't get closer.
Or maybe it did.
He couldn't tell.
The water distorted everything, bending distance into something unreliable.
Then—
Movement.
Fast.
Too fast.
Something cut through the water below him.
A blur.
Like a torpedo.
One of the bodies jerked suddenly.
Then vanished.
Dragged down.
Gone.
Austin froze for half a second.
What the—
Another shape moved.
Another body.
Taken.
Pulled into the dark depths with violent speed.
No struggle.
No chance.
Panic spiked.
Sharp.
Immediate.
His breathing broke.
Or tried to.
His chest convulsed as instinct screamed for air, his body forgetting the rules, forgetting the control he'd spent years mastering.
He gasped.
Water rushed in.
Burning.
Violent.
His lungs seized as the ocean flooded them, choking him from the inside.
Pain exploded through his chest.
He thrashed.
Kicking wildly now.
No rhythm.
No control.
Just instinct.
Just survival.
No—!
The surface—
Where was the surface?
His vision blurred.
Dark spots creeping in at the edges.
His arms felt heavy.
Slow.
The more he fought, the worse it got.
The burning spread.
His strength faded.
Focus.
The word echoed faintly in his mind. Distant and weak.
He tried.
He really did.
But his body wouldn't listen anymore.
The panic had taken over.
Another shape moved below.
Closer this time.
Too close.
Austin's eyes widened as something surged upward through the darkness beneath him—
And then—
Everything went wrong.
His body jerked.
Convulsed.
The last of his air gone.
Replaced with cold.
With water.
With nothing.
The world narrowed.
Sound vanished completely.
Just silence. Endless and heavy.
His movements slowed.
Then slowed more.
His arms dropped slightly.
His legs followed.
The surface…
Still out of reach.
And Austin Greene—
Began to drown.