Page 139 of Interion

I just stared at him, thinking about everything he was saying. I must have taken too long, because he started getting restless in his chair.

“It’s just that... your recognition means a lot to me,” I confessed before I lost the courage. “I spent five years specializing and trying to become better...” So that he would admire me, so that he wouldn’t see me as a waste of time. But I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud—I was already embarrassed for continuing to expose my feelings. “I clung to my gift and what it meant for good in the world, because it was the only thing I had. This gift is all that I am.” I swallowed hard, seeing that all his attention was focused solely on me, and then continued: “And this is the first time I’ve truly snatched a soul from death’s grasp, and now I feel happy about it. Beyond that, I’m thrilled that you recognize this milestone. It means a lot to me.”

He looked at me intensely, but seconds passed and no words left his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, a bit worried.

“I’m thinking that I’m a terrible partner.”

“In what way exactly? I could list a few,” I joked, trying to break the heavy mood. It didn’t work at all. He took a long breath before responding.

“I’ve missed so many parts of your life, and I feel bad because almost everything I know about you came from Ambrose or Kiara.” His thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of my wrist. I was afraid he’d feel through my pulsing veins how fast my heart was beating after hearing his confession. “I know I’ve been unfair—I focused on things that were important to me while ignoring what was important to you, and that was a huge mistake. I’m so proud of you and so amazed by your ability that I’d venture to say you’ll become the best elmedic ever seen in all of Jupiter.”

I swallowed my tears and smiled shyly at him as I traced the lines on his palm. He watched the gesture too, as if mesmerized by the touch. The conversation felt like the start of an understanding, and now that I knew about the agreement, everything made more sense.

“I don't need to be the best. Good enough to earn a spot at the hospital is all I need.”

“I'd definitely trust you with my life,” Zion said, then looked surprised—as surprised as I was. We smiled together in relief at how intimate and genuine that confession felt. “And I don't even trust my own shadows.”

The shadows seemed to hover over my shoulders, eavesdropping on our conversation.

“If I were you, I wouldn't either. The sonar called me the granddaughter of the apocalypse. I suppose that's a terrible omen.”

“He called you that? I didn't know about that part,” he exclaimed.

I thought for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, I decided to tell him everything that had happened with the sonar, and Zion listened quietly as I repeated the nonsensical things the man had told me.

“I've heard about that. I know someone who's also seen that other side of him. But as far as I know, the sonar has never been a danger to anyone.”

That surprised me.

“You know someone? Who?”

“Someone I don't talk to much.”

I waited a few seconds for him to elaborate, but Zion didn't seem to want to talk about this person, and I suspected it was Serguei. The problem was, if he didn't even want to talk about the man, how would I bring up the damn birthday dinner without starting an argument?

“I'm still thinking about what he said, but it doesn't make much sense. He said someone hid me from the angels, but that must be a delusion, or maybe he was speaking metaphorically. The only thing I understood was that he wanted me to fight. So all I can figure is that he wants me to prepare for the final test.”

The moment I said it, I regretted it—Zion was looking at me like a hungry cat.

“And that brings us back to my offer.” Zion leaned in, bending over the table. “Will you train with me?”

“Will you stay home?” I challenged, leaning toward him.

“Aren't I staying?”

“For how long? Because at the first sign of trouble, you run.”

He didn't have time to respond. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man approaching. He had a camera in his hands and wore the restaurant's dark green uniform. He cleared his throat to get our attention.

“Good evening, beautiful couple!” he greeted us. I avoided looking at Zion, though I wanted to see his reaction to the word “couple” being tossed out so casually. “Lemon's offers a complimentary photo service. We like to keep memories of all our guests and give them one as a gift so they'll remember us. May I take a photo of you?”

His smile was so warm and kind that saying no would have been impossible. I looked at Zion expectantly, unsure why my heart was racing—maybe because I didn't have a single photo with him. Zion watched me, trying to gauge whether I wanted this or not. I couldn't sit still, anxious with anticipation. He seemed to understand and stood up.

“Of course we can. Where do you recommend we take it?”

The man directed us to the balcony right behind us. Zion leaned against the glass railing that came up to his waist, and I stood beside him, stiff as a statue but with a huge smile on my face. The photographer looked uncomfortable as he raised the camera to his eyes.