Kael’s hand slammed down on the rough wooden crate, the impact sending a spill of ripe apricots tumbling to Irisa’s feet. She jerked upright, her gaze flashing, pollen dust streaking her cheek. The market’s chaos thudded around them—laughter, haggling, the humid musk of fruit and sweat—but under Kael’s glare, there was only the heat of their collisions. He leaned in, voice a growl meant for her alone, the muscles of his arms tense beneath the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt. “Your stall bleeds into my lane, again. You think the rules just bend for you?"

Irisa stepped in, her boots crunching on fruit. She didn’t flinch, chin lifted, loose coils of hair falling from a messy braid as she pushed a crate of peonies closer, deliberately brushing her hip against Kael’s thigh. Her voice was low and sure, but her fingers trembled faintly on the petals. “Maybe if you shouted less, you’d notice people want to be near me.” Her smile flickered, brittle as glass. For a moment, their bodies hovered—shoulders brushing, lips inches apart, pulse and pressure crowding the space between them.

Kael caught her wrist as she reached for another crate, their hands colliding, fingers tangling—his grip hard, hers soft but insistent. She tried to yank free, but his thumb slid along her pulse, and she gasped despite herself. The sound frayed him. Beneath the surface, he was unraveling, the sharpness in his eyes giving way to something raw and hungry. “You like this.” His voice was a small, dangerous dare. She held his gaze too long—then snatched her hand back, face flushed, lips parted, a challenge trembling there.

Myka’s laughter burst from behind the espresso cart, slicing the tension. “You two going to make out or fight to the death?” she chirped, apron dusted with cocoa, eyes dancing with mischief. Kael looked away first, jaw rigid, ears burning red.

The rest of the day passed in a series of near-misses—brushing shoulders at the scales, snatching the same ledger, every touch accidental but charged, every glance a little longer than it should be. Irisa’s easy laugh in front of customers faded as soon as they turned away and left her alone with her shaking hands.

After closing, the market emptied in a hush of rain. Kael’s broad silhouette lingered by the stall, tie loosened, hair wild, shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow. He pressed his phone to his ear, voice pitched low and desperate. “He’d never just leave. I know someone here saw something. I can’t...I keep seeing him.” His words cracked, and he blinked hard, knuckles pale against the wood.

Irisa watched from the shadows, arms wrapped tight around herself. Thunder shook the sky as she ducked into the storage shed to gather supplies, only to find Kael already inside, his face streaked with rain and something dangerously close to grief.

The door rattled closed, and the world shrank to breath and heartbeat. Irisa hugged herself, but her control was fraying, her breaths shallow and fast. Kael hovered close, eyes searching. “You always look fearless,” he whispered, voice rough. “But your hands—” He reached for her, palm hot on hers. She shook, fighting tears, but didn’t pull away.

A bolt of lightning lit the space between them. Kael’s hand rose, trembling, to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Her breath hitched. “People leave,” she whispered, voice small and breaking. “Or worse.”

His lips brushed hers—tentative, uncertain—then he deepened it, hunger and apology tangled together. Irisa pressed into him, fists tight in his shirt, heart pounding. The kiss burned, desperate and new, but just as his arms wrapped around her, she froze, tearing away with a muffled sob.

Kael’s hands hung in the air, empty. Rain battered the roof. Irisa backed away, panic etched in every line of her face, shaking so hard she could barely meet his gaze.

She whispered, “Don’t.”

Thunder cracked again. Kael stood helpless, eyes wild with confusion and ache, as Irisa pressed her back against the door, tears glinting in her lashes, silent and shattering.

To be continued...