Siahra stands in the pale light, shoulders squared beneath a loose linen blouse that clings to her damp skin. Her hair tumbles in a wild halo, undone in the humid dawn, eyes wide and restless above a mouth swollen from too many unsaid words. She doesn’t look like the girl who arrived at Wildheart. She looks like someone who lost herself, pieced back together by struggle and longing.

Footsteps behind her: Roen, his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, chest broad and vulnerable. Stubble shadows his jaw; his gaze aches with everything he’s held back. He stops a breath away, hands in his pockets, but his body arcs toward her, craving contact.

“I thought I’d missed you,” Roen says, voice rough at the edges. His confidence is a mask made fragile by exhaustion. The broken sunrise lines his face, catching the reddish purple under his eyes and the soft downturn of his mouth.

Siahra swallows, fidgeting with the skin of her wrist, a nervous habit. “You never could.” Her words float between accusation and invitation. She means to be strong, but the tremor in her voice betrays her.

He reaches out. His fingers graze her jaw, gentle, reverent, as if still asking permission. She leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering. “Stay,” he whispers, so quiet no one else would hear. His thumb caresses her cheekbone. His hunger is barely leashed, but behind it, a desperate tenderness shivers.

She lifts her chin with new confidence, bold yet trembling. “I can’t keep losing myself here, Roen. Not for you. Not for anyone.” It burns to speak, but she won’t break.

Roen’s breath stutters. He closes the distance, forearms braced on either side of her hips, holding her as if she’s the only real thing left. “I never wanted you to lose yourself. I just wanted—” His voice falters, finally raw, “—something true.”

She searches his face, half-lit by gold and jungle green, fingers curling at the edge of his open shirt. “It was true. But truth broke us.”

A beat, heavy with memory. His jaw clenches, pain and pride at war. “If I could let you go, I would. But I—” He stops, words failing, eyes glistening with the threat of surrender. His hand moves to her waist, anchoring her, pleading.

Siahra’s lips find his, slow and searching, their final kiss tasting of salt and regret. Her hands knot in his shirt, desperate to memorize the shape of his body, to hold him for a moment longer than eternity allows. His grip slides up her back, pulling her even nearer—heat and ache tangled where their bodies meet.

The kiss breaks, breathless. Roen’s forehead leans against hers, his hands trembling with restraint. She touches his cheek, thumb brushing a tear he won’t let fall.

She shoulders her bag, the delicate chain of her necklace glittering—a piece he once mended glinting in the dawn. “You’ll survive this,” she murmurs, fierce and fractured, “You always do.” Her eyes linger on him, tasting goodbye with every glance.

Roen watches her walk away, muscles taut against the urge to chase, jaw tight with loss. He does not call her back. His arms hang useless at his sides, fists opening and closing, air slick with all they almost had.

Nearby, Celine stands at the edge of the clearing, soft sweater sleeves draped over her elbows, hair in a hasty bun. She watches Siahra pass, offers a small, forgiving smile, and finally turns away from the lodge. The hesitation in her step gives way to certainty as she disappears down the path, sunlight warming the tears drying on her cheeks.

Inside the lodge’s shadow, Zatira sits cross-legged on the steps, face streaked with last night’s mascara, fingers worrying a sprig of jungle mint. She clutches her own shoulders, watching the others leave, then lets her head fall into her hands. A heavy sigh shudders through her chest—pressing regret and hope into the wooden planks beneath her.

The morning is full of ghost words and heartbeats. Wildheart Lodge feels emptier, but the air vibrates with everything left unsaid. Roen stands alone in the clearing, wrists bare, heart open to what comes next, while the jungle whispers possibilities through the shifting leaves.