Eleven years later.
The living room was clean, quiet, afternoon light cutting across the floor. Leo sat at his desk, back straight, staring at code on the screen.
The front door slammed open.
"I'm home!"
Iris, sixteen now, barreled in—uniform wrinkled, tie loose, hair wild from running. She kicked off her shoes and charged straight at him.
"Leo! I finally unlocked it—a new power!"
He turned slowly. "Which one?"
"The Eternal Flame." She grinned, fists pumped.
He nodded once. "Show me."
She tried immediately—hand out, focus sharp. Nothing.
Again. Nothing.
"Come on," she muttered, stomping. The flame flickered once, weak, then died.
Leo watched. "It doesn't come from excitement. It comes from stillness."
She breathed, steadied. A small red flame bloomed in her palm—steady, bright, alive.
Her face lit up. "Look!"
He gave the smallest nod. "Good."
Later, they ate on the couch from the same plate, like always. She wore his old jersey, legs tucked under her.
"This is perfect," she said, mouth full. "How do you always nail it?"
"I followed a recipe online."
Flat. No warmth. Just fact.
Iris froze mid-bite.
She set her spoon down hard. "That's it? 'I followed a recipe online'?"
Leo glanced at her, calm. "Yes."
"You cooked for me every day for eleven years, and now you act like it's just... data?"
Her voice rose. "I asked how you make it perfect. Not where you looked it up."
He blinked. "The method produces consistent results."
She stared at him. Something snapped.
"You know what? Forget it." She stood, flames flickering angry red at her fingertips before vanishing. "You're impossible lately."
She slammed his laptop shut, hard enough to make the table jump.
Then she stormed to her room.
Leo sat motionless. After a long silence, the corner of his mouth lifted—just slightly.
First time she'd ever been truly angry at him.
He walked to her door. Knocked once.
No answer.
He knocked again.
The door cracked open.
"I need space," she said, voice low, controlled. "A few days. Alone."
He met her eyes. Nodded. "Understood."
He left without another word. The front door clicked shut behind him.
Iris leaned against the wall. "Idiot," she whispered. But her chest ached in a way she didn't recognize.
Three days passed.
The doorbell rang.
Iris jolted upright in bed, her heart fluttering with sudden hope.
"Leo...?" she breathed, eyes shining as she jumped to her feet and rushed to the door.
Barefoot, hair still messy from sleep, she flung it open.
But her smile faltered instantly.
It wasn't him.
Just the delivery guy, holding a bag. "Package for Leo," he said, handing over neatly wrapped groceries. "Please sign here, miss."
She nodded silently, fingers trembling as she scribbled her name.
She signed, hugged the bag like it might disappear, then shoved everything into the fridge.
She didn't cook. Couldn't. The flame felt wrong without him.
School was worse. She moved through classes like a ghost.
After the bell, Ria caught her arm.
"You look wrecked. Talk."
Iris exhaled. "I told Leo to leave. And he actually did."
Ria winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah."
They walked out into the courtyard.
Iris stopped dead.
Leo stood at the far edge, hands in pockets, waiting.
She ran.
Crashed into him hard enough to rock him back half a step. Arms tight around his waist, face pressed to his chest.
He didn't move at first. Then one hand settled lightly on her back.
She spoke into his shirt, voice muffled and cracking. "You took me literally."
"You said a few days."
"Shut up." She pulled back just enough to glare up at him, eyes wet. "Don't ever do that again."
His expression didn't change, but his hand stayed on her back.
She grabbed his wrist and started walking, dragging him with her.
From across the courtyard, classmates watched.
"Is that her brother?"
"No way."
"Look how she—"
The whispers followed them out.
No one had answers.
And that was exactly how it should be.