He didn't start at the beginning.
He started with her.
"Remember when you asked me if there was anyone?" he said, eyes still on the road, both hands steady on the wheel even though something in his voice had already begun to fray at the edges. "And I told you there was, but I didn't explain."
Maya nodded quietly.
She remembered.
"Her name was Selene." He said it simply, but the name did something to the air between them, something heavy and tender and old, like a door opening in a house no one had entered for years.
A door he refused to enter.
Maya didn't ask what kind of name that was, or what kind of girl Selene had been, because she already knew enough to understand what mattered.
She had always known things about him in that strange, effortless way only she seemed capable of, the fairy, and all the other impossible things woven through his life like threads no one else could see.
