Cain held her gaze for a moment longer than anyone else would have, not because he was moved by what she had just given, but because he was trying to understand something that did not fit within the order of things he knew.
There was no tremor in his chest.
No warmth spreading through him.
No pull that made him want to step closer.
Only a quiet confusion that sat in the back of his mind, steady and persistent, refusing to go away no matter how long he looked at her.
How did this happen?
The question came without effort, as natural as breathing, and yet it carried a weight that made him linger on it longer than he expected. He had lived long enough to understand affection, long enough to recognize attachment, long enough to know when something had been built through time and shared experience.
But this—
This did not feel like something that had grown.
It felt like something that had appeared.
