Chapter 79
The palace felt different now, but Alvira had stopped trusting "different."
Different had once meant change.
Change had once meant hope.
And hope, she had learned, was not always kind.
She stood alone in one of the quieter wings of the palace, far from the main halls where voices and movement never truly stopped. Here, there was only the soft sound of distant footsteps and the faint rustle of fabric when she moved.
She liked it here.
It gave her space to think without being interrupted.
Or corrected.
Or reminded of what she should be feeling.
Behind her, she heard footsteps approach.
She did not turn immediately.
"You avoid the main halls now," Zack's voice came calmly.
Alvira let out a small breath. "I do not avoid them. I just do not stay long."
A pause.
Then he replied, "That is the same thing."
She finally turned slightly to face him.
Zack stood a few steps away, as usual. Not too close. Not too far. The distance between them had always been intentional, even when neither of them admitted it.
Alvira studied him for a moment.
"You are observant today," she said.
"I am always observant," Zack replied.
"That is not true," she said softly.
That made him pause slightly.
Alvira continued, her tone calm but direct. "Sometimes you observe everything except what is in front of you."
Zack's gaze did not change. "And what is in front of me?"
Alvira held his eyes.
"You decide," she said.
Silence settled between them.
Not heavy.
But loaded.
Like something unsaid had stepped into the space and refused to leave.
Zack looked away first, just slightly, toward the open corridor beside them.
"You have been distant lately," he said.
Alvira let out a faint, almost tired laugh. "So have you."
"That is not what I asked," he replied.
She folded her arms loosely. "And I did not give you an answer you like."
Zack turned his gaze back to her. "There is a difference between avoiding something and not speaking about it."
Alvira tilted her head slightly. "And you think I am avoiding?"
"I think you are waiting," he said.
That made her quiet.
Because he was right.
She had been waiting.
Not for him to change.
Not for something dramatic.
But for something simple.
Acknowledgment.
Alvira looked away first this time, her voice softer now. "Waiting is easier than forcing answers that do not come."
Zack stepped slightly closer, just enough to close part of the distance between them.
"You always think things must be forced," he said.
Alvira looked back at him. "Because nothing in this palace ever came freely."
That statement lingered.
Zack did not respond immediately.
Then, quieter than before, he said, "Not everything here was taken."
Alvira studied him carefully. "Was it given?"
Zack hesitated.
A rare thing.
Then he answered, "Some things were simply… not held onto."
That truth sat between them longer than expected.
Alvira's expression softened slightly, but there was still something guarded in her eyes.
"You speak differently now," she said.
Zack replied, "I have always spoken the same."
"No," she said gently. "You speak less like someone explaining and more like someone hiding."
That made his jaw tighten slightly.
But he did not deny it.
Alvira stepped closer this time, breaking the pattern of distance she usually kept.
"You used to look at me like I mattered," she said quietly.
Zack's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You still do," he said.
But it came out too controlled.
Too measured.
And Alvira noticed.
She always had.
"You say that like it costs you something," she replied.
Zack did not answer immediately.
Because it did.
Alvira sighed softly and looked away.
"I am not asking you to fix anything," she said. "I am not asking you to go back."
Zack's voice was quieter now. "Then what are you asking?"
She hesitated.
That was the real question.
What she was asking had never been simple.
"I am asking if you are still here," she said finally.
Zack looked at her for a long moment.
Not at her words.
At her.
Then he replied softly, "I never left."
Alvira's eyes flickered slightly at that.
But she did not smile.
Because she understood something important.
He was here.
But not fully.
Never fully.
And she had learned not to reach for what only existed halfway.
She nodded slowly. "That is what I thought you would say."
Zack studied her carefully. "And what does that mean to you?"
Alvira's voice softened.
"That I have to stop expecting answers from a place that no longer speaks clearly."
Silence followed again.
This one heavier.
More honest.
Zack finally spoke, quieter than before. "You still remember how it used to be."
Alvira looked at him.
"I remember everything," she said.
That was the problem.
Not forgetting.
But remembering too clearly.
She turned slightly as if to leave, then paused.
Without looking back, she said, "If there is something you cannot say… then do not punish me for not understanding it."
Zack did not respond.
Not because he disagreed.
But because he had no answer that would not hurt.
Alvira walked away slowly after that.
And Zack remained where he stood.
Still.
Quiet.
Watching her leave.
Not because she was going away.
But because something in him always felt like it was.