The government building looked as lifeless as Iraya felt.
White walls. Cold air. Security cameras that blinked like lazy eyes. She hated this kind of place—too clean to be honest.
She was led to a briefing room by some guy who didn't make eye contact.
Fine by her.
When she stepped inside, she stopped short.
Teja was already there.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he had no business being in something so official—and still somehow owning the space.
Of course it was him.
Of course.
She didn't say anything. Neither did he.
Not until the door closed behind her.
Then, calmly, he said, "Didn't think you'd show up."
She sat in the chair across the table, dragging it a little louder than necessary. "Didn't think you were real."
He smiled faintly. "Disappointed?"
She didn't answer.
The door opened again. This time it was a man in uniform—stern, tired eyes, a stack of folders in his hand.
"Good," he said without sitting. "You two already know each other. That saves me time."
Iraya raised an eyebrow. "Define 'know.'"
The officer ignored her.
He tossed a folder onto the table. The name on the cover caught her attention instantly.
Her father's.
The officer didn't waste time. "Your father's case is now officially reopened. Unmarked deaths, missing data, and a trail of classified evidence that leads to the town of Raveloor. You'll be going in under cover as a married couple—researchers."
Iraya scoffed. "Excuse me?"
"Hotel's booked. Room's shared. This isn't a vacation, it's containment. Eyes are already on the area—you either blend, or blow the whole operation."
She turned to Teja. "Don't look so smug."
He wasn't smiling.
But his eyes were saying everything.
"Any questions?" the officer asked.
Iraya stood. "Yeah. What happens if I kill my partner before the case ends?"
"Don't," the officer said dryly. "He's the only one cleared to protect you when this goes sideways."
---
Later — The Car Ride
The car was silent except for the rain.
Teja drove like he didn't believe in brakes. Iraya sat with her arms crossed, head leaned against the window, watching the trees blur into a wet green haze.
"No music?" she muttered.
"I like silence," he said.
"Of course you do."
A pause.
He glanced at her once. "Still pretending you don't remember me?"
She looked at him then—really looked.
"No," she said softly. "I remember you."
Another silence.
He didn't ask how. Didn't need to.
---
Even Later — The Hotel
They checked in without drama.
The receptionist didn't bat an eye when she handed over one key card.
"One room," the woman said. "Top floor. Queen bed. Sorry, no twins left."
Teja took the key without flinching.
Iraya didn't speak until they were inside the room. The door clicked shut behind them. It smelled like expensive soap and expectation.
She dropped her bag. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"There is no couch."
She turned. He was already at the window, pulling the curtain slightly.
"You planned this," she accused.
He turned his head. "If I planned it, there'd be wine and fewer clothes."
She glared.
He stepped closer.
"But for now," he added quietly, "just try to stay alive, little storm. The case is darker than you think. And you're not ready for what's coming."
She didn't respond.
Not with words.
Just moved toward the bed, sat down, and muttered, "Stay on your side."
He didn't answer.
He didn't promise.
Because deep down—they both knew—lines like that?
They were made to be crossed.