It wasn't doubt. It wasn't even confusion.
It was a flicker. A ripple.
A strange, hollow ache in his chest, like something had been taken from him long ago, and only now — because of that voice — did he notice the shape of its absence.
"You say you don't know her," Reana said, softer now. A whisper draped in vines. "But your heart does. And it listens to her more than it listens to me."
"That's not true," Ryder said at once, catching her hand, placing it gently over his chest. "You're all I know. You're all I want to know."
Reana's expression softened, but her eyes didn't lose their shine. "Then why does your heart ache when she calls?"
"I don't know," he admitted, gaze distant for a second. "It's only when I hear her voice. Like I've forgotten something important. Something I'm not supposed to forget. But then it fades. And I see you again. And I remember what matters."
