The boxes were stacked by the door.
Ayra stood in the middle of my hotel room, hands on her hips, surveying the disaster.
"This is all you own?"
"I travel light."
She picked up an apple core from the desk. Held it between two fingers like evidence.
"You weren't joking about the apples."
I grabbed the last box. "Ready."
She took two boxes from the stack. Carried them out without waiting.
Siver floated beside me.
"She's helping you move. That's what partners do. Or people who like you."
"Shut up."
I followed her out.
The apartment was ten minutes away.
Ayra drove. I sat in the passenger seat. The boxes were in the back.
"It's not far," she said. "Close to the bureau. Close to the market."
"You said ten minutes walking."
"Eight if you walk fast."
She pulled into a narrow street. Old buildings. Trees lining the sidewalk. The kind of street that felt settled. Quiet.
She parked. Helped me carry the boxes up three flights.
The door was already open. She'd left it unlocked.
The apartment was bigger than I expected.
High ceilings. Windows along one wall. A balcony that looked out onto the street. The light was soft. Grey afternoon, but the room held it well.
Ayra set the boxes down. "Well?"
I walked to the window. Looked out at the trees.
"It's not what I'm used to."
"Too much light?"
"Something like that."
She smiled. "You'll get used to it. Your room is through there."
She pointed to a door at the end of the hall.
I opened it.
The room was smaller than the main space. A bed. A desk. A window facing the same street. Clean. Simple.
"The bathroom is next to it," she said from behind me. "Kitchen is shared. I cook sometimes. You can use anything."
I set my bag on the bed. "Thank you."
She leaned against the doorframe. "It's just a room."
"It's more than I had."
She looked at me for a moment. Then: "Coffee? I just made a pot."
Her apartment was next door. Same layout. But different.
Warmer. Books on shelves. Plants by the window. A worn rug. A couch that looked like it had been sat on a thousand times.
She poured two cups. Handed me one.
"Balcony?"
I followed her out.
The balcony was small. Two chairs. A small table. Overlooking the street below.
We sat. The coffee was strong. Black. Just how I took it.
She didn't ask how I took it. She just knew.
Siver appeared on the railing, leaning against nothing.
"Moving in together. How domestic."
I ignored him.
Ayra stared at the street for a moment. "You asked me if I was okay. After the attack."
I looked at her.
She shrugged. "I'm not. But I'm better than I was."
"The panic attack."
She nodded. "Not the first. Probably not the last." She wrapped her hands around her cup. "My mother used to call them episodes. Said it was the weight. The Aurelian weight."
I waited.
"You do know what happens when I touch people."
"Yeah my aunt told me. Mind reading."
She laughed. It was quiet. "Not exactly reading. More like drowning. Everything at once. Thoughts, fears, memories. Doesn't matter if I want it or not." She held up her bare hands. "I used to wear gloves everywhere. My mother kept me home when I was young she said i was too sensitive."
"What changed?"
"I got tired of being afraid." She looked at me. "I became a forensic specialist because the dead don't scare me. The living do."
I looked at her hands. "At the cabin. When I grabbed you."
She met my eyes.
"I saw nothing. Just black smoke. Like everything inside you was buried so deep I couldn't reach it." She paused. "I thought you might be dead. That's the only time I see nothing. When I touch the dead."
Siver leaned forward on the railing.
"That's romantic."
I ignored him.
"You know about me now," I said. "The Valerius familiy"
"Ghosts. The Veil." She nodded. "And you know about me as in Aurelians."
I nodded.
She looked at her cup. "When I touched Julian, at the warehouse, I saw Elara. Her face. Her fear. I felt his regret. I carry it. All of it." She looked at me. "That's the curse. I'll carry what I see. Eventually it breaks you."
I didn't answer.
She turned to me. "Your aunt warned you to stay away from me, didn't she."
I didn't flinch. "She said Aurelians aren't always stable."
Ayra smiled. It was thin. "And you didn't listen."
"I don't usually listen."
She laughed. Small. Real.
"Good."
We sat in silence for a while. The street below was quiet. The sky was grey. But the light on the balcony was soft.
Ayra spoke first. "You wrote those words in the journal. The ones you read to Marcus."
I looked at her but did not say anything.
"The handwriting was too clean. Too perfect. It was a forgery."
I didn't answer.
She leaned back. "You gave him the truth he needed. Even if it wasn't the truth you found."
Siver floated between us.
"She's giving you a compliment. Say something."
I looked at Ayra. "You're not afraid. Of what I can do."
She met my eyes. "I'm afraid of a lot of things. You're not one of them."
I didn't know what to say.
Siver sighed. "Hopeless."
Ayra stood. Picked up her cup. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we go through Marcus's testimony. See who else was involved in Vane's network."
She walked toward the door. Then stopped.
"Andres."
I looked up.
"The black smoke. When I touch you."
She turned.
"It's not because you've buried everything. It's because you've buried yourself so deep you don't even know what you want anymore."
She opened the door.
"You should figure that out. Before it's too late."
She left.
Siver appeared beside me.
"She's not wrong."
I stared at the empty doorway.
"I know."
I stayed on the balcony for a long time. The coffee went cold. The street went dark.
Somewhere in the apartment next door, Ayra was probably reading. Or sleeping. Or staring at the ceiling, carrying the weight of what she'd seen.
I thought about her words. About the black smoke. About burying myself so deep I didn't know what I wanted.
She was right.
I didn't know.
But for the first time in a long time, I wanted to find out.
I went inside. Closed the balcony door.
The apartment was quiet. But it didn't feel empty.
Siver floated to the window. "Nice place."
"It's a room."
"It's a start."
I looked at the boxes stacked by the wall. My things. Few as they were.
Tomorrow, I would unpack.
Tomorrow, I would go back to work.