The sky was overcast when Evelyn found him.
Alexander stood at the edge of the Academy's western courtyard, where the forest met stone. A carriage waited beyond the gate, dark and sleek. A silent promise of his absence.
He didn't turn when she approached—but she knew he'd sensed her.
Evelyn swallowed hard. "So it's true."
"Yes." His voice was low, even. Controlled.
"You're leaving."
"I gave you my word. I wouldn't stay to influence your choice."
She stepped closer, the gravel crunching underfoot. "You think that's what this is about? Me choosing between you and Caelan?"
His jaw tensed. "Isn't it?"
"No," she said sharply. "It's about you running the moment it hurts."
That made him turn.
His eyes locked on hers—stormy and unreadable, but not empty. Not this time.
"You're wrong," he said. "I'm leaving because I care too much. Because if I stay, I'll do something reckless. Like drag you into my world. Like make you choose something you're not ready for."
Her breath hitched. "What if I already have?"
Silence.
A breeze moved between them, lifting her hair gently, like even the wind held its breath.
Alexander looked at her then—really looked.
"No matter how this ends," he said quietly, "you're the only thing I regret not fighting for sooner."
She stepped forward until only inches remained between them. "Then stop running."
"I don't want to be a weakness for you."
"You're not," she whispered. "You never were."
His hand lifted, hesitated—then brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was light, reverent. And yet it burned more than any fire.
But he stepped back before she could speak again.
"I'll return," he said. "When you're sure. When you call me back."
Then he turned and walked toward the carriage.
And though her heart screamed to stop him, Evelyn didn't move.
Because for the first time, she realized he wasn't giving up.
He was giving her space to choose love on her own terms.