Nova's POV
I told him to leave me alone.
So he did.
And I hated it.
Eldur still came to work at Prologue Pages, he showed up for his shifts like clockwork, still carried himself with that calm, otherworldly intensity that somehow made everything else in the room feel smaller. But he didn't talk to me anymore. Didn't look at me for longer than necessary. Didn't hover like some dark, brooding storm cloud anymore.
He just… existed.
Silently. Perfectly. In my orbit but not in my space.
And it was driving me crazy.
I found myself glancing over my shoulder constantly, hoping to catch his silver eyes. They never met mine. Not anymore.
He gave me exactly what I asked for.
Space.
And somehow, it felt worse than rejection.
It was on a Wednesday—mid-afternoon, slow day—that the storm changed color.
