In the heart of Z City, snow fell relentlessly, blanketing the roads in a hush of white. Streetlamps cast long shadows on the glistening sidewalks, while the cold bit into every inch of exposed skin.
Kael Valenhart trudged toward his apartment door, his silver hair damp with melted snow, grocery bags hanging from each hand. His breath fogged before him, warm against the chill, and he fumbled for the keypad with half-numb fingers.
The door beeped. Unlocked.
Inside, warmth greeted him like an old friend. He slipped off his soaked shoes and traded them for soft slippers. The grocery bags landed with a sigh on the kitchen table.
Without a word, Kael made his way to the bathroom.
Hot water poured over him, washing away the cold—and with it, the weight of another long day. Muscles relaxed under the heat, eyes closing briefly. He didn't linger. Habit. Efficiency. Control.
Wrapped in a towel that clung low on his hips, droplets still clinging to his pale skin, he stepped out of the bathroom.
And froze.
Someone was standing in his living room.
Not just anyone.
Zayden.
His breath caught. For a moment, Kael couldn't process it. The years melted into seconds, and all he could do was stare.
Zayden Xavien Rousseau—tall, striking, effortlessly magnetic—stood there like a vision torn from memory. A gray dress shirt hugged his frame, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, black pants immaculately pressed. His coat was folded in his arms, his jet-black hair tousled from the wind, and those familiar purple eyes—cool, unreadable—pierced straight through Kael's soul.
Kael felt a strange weight drop in his stomach. Guilt. Shame. Like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Like he was cheating... but he didn't know on what.
Zayden stared at him for a long, unreadable moment. Then his gaze dropped and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Are you just going to stand there… looking like that?"
Kael blinked. Then realized.
The towel.
It barely reached his upper thighs. His entire chest, his skin still glistening with water, was exposed.
Shit.
He didn't say a word—just spun around and disappeared into his room.
Two minutes later, Kael reappeared fully dressed in lounge pants and a hoodie, his damp hair now partially towel-dried.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice calm—but his eyes betrayed his turmoil.
Zayden didn't move. His gaze sharpened.
"Is that the first thing you say to me... after disappearing for six years?"
Kael's throat tightened. His eyes widened slightly. But he didn't answer that. Instead, he glanced toward the door, then back at Zayden.
"How do you know my door code?"
Zayden's expression didn't change.
"Your mom gave it to me. She asked me to check on you—since you haven't visited her in a year."
"Oh…"
Silence.
It stretched between them like frost on glass—fragile, uncomfortable, ready to crack.
Kael shifted first.
"So… where are you going to stay?"
Zayden tilted his head, smirking again.
"Where else? With you. Here."
Kael blinked, flustered. "What?! But—"
"What? Are you that petty?" Zayden teased lightly, his tone unreadable.
Kael muttered, "No… whatever."
He turned toward the kitchen, trying to pretend this was normal. "What do you want to eat? I just got groceries."
"Anything. As long as it's edible."
Kael exhaled softly and disappeared into the kitchen, the sounds of cupboards opening and pans clinking filling the silence.
Zayden slipped his phone from his pocket. It vibrated with a message from his manager.
Manager: Sir, when are you coming? We're waiting at Hotel XXX.
Zayden: I'm staying somewhere else. You guys check in.
He ended the call without further explanation.
His gaze lifted—landing on Kael's back as he moved quietly in the kitchen.
And Zayden smirked.