Helya stood quietly on the balcony, gazing at the deep blue night sky of the Techno Kingdom. The streets below shimmered with flowing light rails, like pulsing veins of energy. Overhead, patrol drones hovered like motionless stars, casting faint silver beams onto the city.
She had just returned from the base. Though exhausted, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. The soft sound of footsteps approached behind her—subtle, but unmistakable.
It was him—Cael.
"Still awake?" Cael's voice was low, like a breeze brushing gently through the night. There was no accusation in it—only a hint of something warmer, hidden just beneath.
Helya didn't turn around, but her voice was calm. "The air here is cleaner than I'm used to. I just wanted to enjoy it a little longer."
He stepped closer, stopping beside her. His eyes weren't on the stars or the skyline, but on the loose strand of hair brushing against her neck. The way it danced in the wind reminded him of the delicate, unspoken distance between them.
"There was a report today," Cael said suddenly. His voice was quiet, almost cautious. "About your performance since joining Central Command. You've done well."
Helya smiled faintly. "Is that my commander praising me?"
"Your fiancé," he corrected in a murmur.
She hesitated, a subtle flicker in her expression, before masking it quickly. "I'm still not used to hearing you say that."
Cael was silent for a beat. Then: "My mother wants to meet you."
Helya's body tensed, ever so slightly.
"There's a formal dinner," he continued, his voice even. "It's part of the family's tradition. A courtesy."
She didn't reply right away. Her eyes were on the horizon now, where the city lights faded into the quiet shadows beyond. "Will they… really accept me?"
Cael turned his gaze to her, voice steady but firm. "If they don't, I'll make sure they do."
The words fell between them like a small flame in the dark, flickering but resolute.
"I'll go," she said quietly, after a pause.
Silence lingered again—comfortable this time. Cael turned as if to leave, then added, "I'll have the etiquette officer bring your dress tomorrow. And… my mother can be a bit particular."
Helya allowed herself a brief, amused smile. "Is that your way of warning me?"
He paused, glanced at her again, this time with a hint of rare humor. "She's always been demanding with whoever might become her daughter-in-law."
Helya lowered her gaze, the wind brushing her skirts like a soft sigh. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
But they didn't need to. Sometimes, silence was its own form of closeness.