Sarah didn't speak right away. She just stood there—arms folded, gaze turned toward the edges of the realm—as though bracing herself for whatever judgment I might give. But I didn't hate her. I couldn't.
Not after feeling the weight of her love and the unbearable cost of her choice.
"I think… he deserves to know," I said quietly, rising to my feet. "The truth. All of it. From you."
Sarah blinked, visibly startled. "You want me to go back?"
I nodded. "Not for me. Not even for you. For him."
A long silence stretched between us. She turned away, her expression suddenly tight, protective.
"I don't know if I can face him. Not after what I did. Not after what I let him believe."
"You didn't let him believe it," I said gently. "He believed what he had to in order to survive losing you. But he never let go. And now… he's ready to face the truth, too."
Sarah's fingers trembled as they touched the shard still glowing faintly in her palm. "Even after everything, he… still carries this."
"He does," I said. "He never stopped looking for you—even when he pretended he did."
Her eyes closed for a moment, as if gathering strength. Then she looked up at me, and for the first time, the bitter edge was gone. What replaced it wasn't weakness—it was quiet surrender.
"Then take me to him," she said. "If I can't undo the past… I can at least stop hiding from it."
I stepped forward and held out my hand.
Sarah hesitated, then reached out and took it.
The realm around us began to shift again—no longer fractured, but slowly weaving back together as if it sensed something healing.
A ripple of light burst from beneath our feet as the mirror closed behind us, sealing the memory. The shard Kai had given me pulsed one last time, then quieted.
Together, we stepped back through the veil of time-space.
Toward Kai.
Toward the truth.
Toward something that might finally set all three of us free.
The veil of time-space tore open with a soft hum as we stepped through, back into the world where gravity felt real and the air held weight. The ground beneath us was familiar now—Kai's world. My world.
He stood a few feet away, waiting.
He must have felt the pull of the pendant. The glow around his neck flickered the moment we crossed over. His back was to us at first, but the moment he heard our footsteps, he turned.
And then he saw her.
The world seemed to stop moving.
Kai's breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, he didn't speak—he didn't even blink. His eyes locked on Sarah as if afraid that looking away would make her disappear again.
"...Sarah?" he said, barely more than a whisper.
She didn't speak. Just stood there—still cloaked in silence, in memory, in fear.
His voice cracked. "How?"
"I brought her," I said softly from behind her, my tone firm but not demanding. "She wanted to run, but I thought… maybe it's time."
Sarah's jaw trembled, her eyes glossing. "You look older," she said finally. "Tired."
Kai gave a weak laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You left, Sarah. What did you expect?"
His words were sharp, but the pain behind them was even sharper.
"I saw your death," she said. "And I thought losing me was better than losing your life."
Kai took a step forward. "And so you let me mourn you? Let me think you were gone forever?"
"I thought I was saving you," she snapped, the first crack in her composure. "I thought it was the only way. I was wrong."
The space between them throbbed with everything unsaid—regret, love, betrayal, grief. And then Kai crossed it.
Not with anger.
But with something deeper.
He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her shoulder. "I hated you for a long time," he whispered. "But I never stopped missing you."
She closed her eyes, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "I know."
Their foreheads touched briefly—tender, fragile, aching.
I stood back, my hands clenched at my sides, watching two pieces of a story finally meet again. My heart twisted—not from jealousy, but from knowing how deep their connection still ran. This wasn't about competition. It was about closure.
About truth.
Kai pulled away slightly and turned toward me, his expression unreadable. But his eyes softened.
"You brought her back," he said.
"I thought you deserved to see her again," I said, keeping my voice steady. "To hear the truth from her. Not from broken memories."
He nodded slowly.
Then, surprising both of us, he reached for my hand and took it gently.
"Thank you," he said. Not with a whisper—but with certainty.
Kai's fingers were still wrapped around mine, but there was hesitation now—a subtle tremble, a pause too long to ignore.
His eyes lingered on Sarah, drinking in every detail as if he were afraid she'd vanish again. The silence between the three of us wasn't tense, but thick—like a bridge that hadn't decided whether to mend or break.
Then he let go of my hand.
"Kai?" I asked softly, not out of accusation, but quiet concern.
He turned away for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "I… don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now."
Sarah watched him, eyes shining but unreadable. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Kai took a deep breath, then looked at me—really looked at me. "You brought her back. After everything. Even knowing what she meant to me." His voice dropped, rough and uncertain. "And I think that's what's breaking me right now."
I stayed silent, waiting—not demanding an answer, not trying to take what he hadn't figured out how to give.
"I still love her," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I ever stopped."
Sarah closed her eyes at that. Whether it was pain or relief, I couldn't tell.
"But then…" Kai stepped toward me, his gaze heavy with conflict. "There's you. You were there when I was falling apart. You made me feel like I wasn't just surviving—I was living again."
He paused, his voice cracked. "And now I don't know how to feel. I look at her and feel like I'm home. But when I look at you… I feel like I'm becoming someone better."
My heart clenched.
He was lost in between two truths—and both of them were real.
I nodded slowly, blinking back emotion. "You don't have to choose right now, Kai. I didn't bring her back to confuse you. I brought her back so the truth could finally breathe."
"I don't want to hurt either of you," he said, shaking his head.
"You already have," Sarah said softly, stepping forward. "But I'm not here to reclaim you. I'm here to let you see me… and let go, if that's what you need."
That stunned him.
She stepped even closer and gently touched his chest. "You've changed. And so have I. Maybe what we had was meant to be a beginning… not an ending."
Kai looked between us—Sarah, his past. Me, his possible future.
His hands hung at his sides, open and uncertain.
"I need time," he finally whispered.
And I, though my heart ached, nodded again.
"I know."
I felt the weight in Kai's eyes—not rejection, not certainty, but conflict. That kind of pain that doesn't come from choosing wrong, but from knowing there's no easy right.
He looked at me again, as if to say something—but the words never came.
So I gave him what he couldn't ask for.
Space.
"I'll give you two some time," I said softly, not bitter, not cold. Just… honest. "You deserve a moment to speak without me standing between the past and whatever comes next."
Kai's eyes widened slightly—part surprise, part guilt—but he didn't stop me.
Sarah looked at me too. This time, there was no jealousy. Just quiet respect.
I gave a small nod and turned away, walking toward the edge of the clearing. The pendant around my neck pulsed faintly, like it knew part of my heart was staying behind.
I didn't look back.
From a distance, I found a quiet place beneath the trees where time seemed to slow again. I couldn't hear their voices—only the wind, the rustle of branches, and the hum of magic gently woven into the air. But I didn't need to hear what they said.
Some things didn't require words to be felt.
I tried not to let my mind spiral: wondering if he'd run back to her, if I had just delivered him into someone else's arms. But that wasn't why I had done this. It wasn't about proving I was stronger than her. It wasn't even about being chosen.
It was about truth. And closure. For both of them.
For all of us.
Still, I couldn't ignore the ache that pulsed behind my ribs.
Then I heard footsteps. Soft, hesitant.
Kai.
I looked up, standing slowly as he emerged from the trees. His expression was quieter now—still conflicted, but steadier. Something had shifted.
"She told me everything," he said.
I nodded. "I know."
Kai looked down at the ground, then back up at me. "She said she doesn't expect me to return to who I was. That… maybe I'm not that man anymore."
I didn't answer. I just waited.
He stepped closer, voice lower now. "But then I realized—I've never had to be anyone else when I'm with you."
That pulled at something inside me.
"She'll always be a part of me, Anna. I won't pretend otherwise," he said, his voice fragile but true. "But what I feel for you… it's not her shadow. It's something new. And it terrifies me."
My heart skipped.
"Good," I whispered. "That means it's real."
Kai gave a small, half-broken smile and reached for my hand.
"I'm not ready to say what this is," he admitted. "But I know I don't want to lose it."
I squeezed his hand gently, grounding him—and myself.
"Then let's not rush it," I said. "Let's just… keep walking forward."
Together.