Liam's Choice

The air in Liam’s apartment was thick with the unspoken. It had been for hours, ever since the words, the impossible, terrifying words, had tumbled out of Elara’s mouth like stones from a broken dam. My veins, usually a faint network of glowing blue beneath my skin, were now a pulsing constellation, radiating warmth that had nothing to do with the late-night chill seeping through the window. I watched him, my chest a tight knot of dread and a strange, fierce hope. He’d seen the truth, the undeniable, glowing truth. Now, he had to decide.

His gaze kept drifting to my hands, to the faint luminescence I tried to suppress, to the subtle tremor that betrayed my anxiety. He’d always been so grounded, so… normal. His world was made of predictable physics, of coffee shops and deadlines and the comforting rhythm of everyday life. My world, on the other hand, was a tightrope walk over an abyss, a constant scramble for survival disguised by stolen moments of connection.

“So,” he finally breathed, the word barely a whisper. “It’s… real.”