I tried to focus on getting ready for university, but my mind kept wandering. Today marked a shift. My parents, Grae, and Michael were finally heading home, leaving me to stay with Josh. It felt strange imagining life without Nick around, but I knew I had to manage until he came back.

When Michael first offered to stay with me, I turned him down. "You don't have to, Michael. I can move in with Josh for now. It's not a big deal," I told him, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

He looked at me for a moment, hesitating. "I do need to get back. There are things I need to handle," he said, almost reluctantly. I could sense the internal struggle behind his calm words—he didn't want to leave, but his responsibilities were calling him.

Mom and Dad spoke with Josh's mom, who, because of her frequent travels, had no problem with me moving in. Josh and I were both thrilled by the idea, but deep down, I knew we were just holding onto the apartment for Nick's return. The uncertainty of it all weighed on me more than I wanted to admit.

Later tonight, my parents and Michael would help me settle into Josh's place before they left. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter, yet a lingering unease clung to me. Nick's absence was like a shadow I couldn't shake.

"Arwen, you're going to be late, and you haven't even had breakfast!" Mom called from the kitchen, her voice jolting me out of my thoughts. I glanced at my watch, groaning internally.

"Coming!" I muttered, grabbing my bag, making sure Azrael's journal was tucked safely inside. That journal... it felt like a lifeline lately, one of the few things grounding me amidst all the changes.

Stepping out of my room, I saw Papa feeding Grae at the table. He gave me his usual warm smile, gesturing towards the pancakes on the counter.

"Where's Michael?" I asked, grabbing a pancake and taking a quick bite on the go, earning a disapproving look from Mom. I gave her a quick, apologetic smile, knowing how much she hated when I rushed through meals.

"He's in the garage, waiting for you," Papa replied, his tone casual, though I could tell he was watching me closely. Grae, grinning with his gap-toothed smile, looked up at me with eyes so full of innocence it made my heart ache.

I bent down and kissed his forehead. "Be good, okay?" I whispered.

"Ar-in!" Grae chirped back with a mouthful of food, and I couldn't help but laugh.

Mom sipped her coffee, her voice soft but concerned. "You sure you've packed everything you need?"

"Yeah, just the essentials," I replied. "I'll be back with Josh and Leroy every week, so it's not like I'm disappearing." I stuffed the rest of the pancake into my mouth, quickly kissed them all goodbye, and hurried out the door.

Michael was leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed, waiting with a calm patience that made me feel both grateful and guilty. He had that quiet, watchful presence that always seemed to know more than he let on.

"Ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as I jogged up to him, slightly out of breath.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, trying to sound lighthearted, though I wasn't sure I believed it.

Michael gave me a soft smile, but there was something behind it—something deeper. Worry, maybe. He could always read me better than I could read myself.

"You know," he started, his voice quieter than usual, "you don't have to be so strong all the time."

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. "I'm fine," I responded quickly. Too quickly. "Moving to Josh's is no big deal. It's just temporary."

He looked at me for a long moment, and I could tell he was weighing his next words carefully. He had always been like that—measured, thoughtful. "Just remember, Arwen, you don't have to do this alone. We're all here for you."

His sincerity broke through the walls I was trying to build, and I smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in my chest. "I know. Thanks, Michael."

But even as I said it, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was changing too fast.

The campus buzzed with its usual energy when I arrived, but everything felt distant, as though I was walking through a dream. Students hurried to class, their laughter and conversations blending into a background hum that barely touched me. My thoughts were tangled—Nick's absence weighed heavily on my mind, and the strange essence inside me lingered, pulling at the edges of my awareness, mixing with the responsibility that seemed to follow every step I took.

I stopped for a moment at the entrance of the main building, staring up at the familiar stone walls. For a second, I imagined it was just another normal day, like before, but the journal in my bag and the unanswered questions hovering in my mind made that impossible. Things were different now. I was different.

As I made my way toward the lecture hall, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Josh popped up:

Josh: "Hey! I'll meet you at lunch. We can talk about moving your stuff in tonight. See you soon!"

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Josh always had this way of making things seem lighter. Even when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control, his positivity was an anchor.

Me: "Sounds good. Can't wait."

But even as I sent the message, Michael's words echoed in my mind: You don't have to be so strong all the time.

When I reached the lecture hall, I spotted Leroy sitting in our usual spot near the back. He waved enthusiastically, his grin wide, tapping the seat next to him. As I approached, I noticed that Diarmid and his group were missing. A flicker of curiosity hit me—why was their absence the first thing I noticed? I slipped into my seat next to Leroy, leaning over to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning, babe. Josh says he's running late," Leroy said, raising his eyebrows as if to say, What else is new?

I smirked, but before I could reply, the door swung open, and in walked Diarmid with his group. It was like the room shifted as they entered, their presence almost palpable. Without intending to, my eyes sought out Diarmid's, and for a heartbeat, everything around us blurred. There was something in his gaze—intense, knowing, and far too familiar.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

But just as quickly as that invisible thread pulled tight between us, Brigit's cheery voice cut through it.

"Arwen!" she called, bounding over to me with her usual enthusiasm.

"Hey!" I replied, standing just in time for her to wrap me in a tight hug.

"We missed you!" she said, holding on a little longer than usual before Rhyian stepped forward.

"Glad to see you're back," Rhyian added, her hug gentler but just as warm.

Finn and Roisin were behind them, smiling as they exchanged easy banter with Leroy about Josh's lateness. Their chatter filled the air, but all I could focus on was Diarmid as he silently took the seat next to mine. I could feel his presence even though he hadn't said a word yet—strong, quiet, observant. His eyes, though softened now, still carried that weight, as if he saw more than I wanted him to.

"Arwen, how are you?" Diarmid's voice was smooth, low, cutting through the noise around us like a blade through water. His gaze was steady, piercing.

"I'm fine," I lied, not meeting his eyes. There was something unnerving about the way he looked at me, like he could see past the surface and read every doubt I was trying to hide. I wasn't sure how much he already knew, or how much I was ready to admit to myself, let alone to him.

Finn, ever the joker, leaned in with a grin. "Careful, Diarmid. You'll scare her off with that intense stare of yours."

I laughed lightly, more out of politeness than anything else, feeling the warmth of a blush creep up my cheeks. Diarmid's lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, but he leaned back, giving me some space. For now.

"If you need to clear your head," Diarmid said, his tone gentler, almost coaxing, "I'm around."

His offer lingered in the air between us, and I hesitated, unsure how to respond. There was always something more with Diarmid—something magnetic, but unsettling at the same time. His presence was impossible to ignore, but it made me feel exposed in ways I wasn't sure I was ready for.

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied quietly, though I wasn't entirely sure if I meant it.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. My mind wandered, preoccupied with everything but the lesson. Afterward, I made my way to the library, seeking solitude and answers in Azrael's journal. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood greeted me as I entered, bringing a small sense of calm. It was one of the few places where the chaos in my life seemed to quiet down, even if just for a little while.

I found a secluded corner by the window, the sunlight casting a warm glow on the pages as I opened the journal. The worn leather cover felt comforting under my fingers, a lifeline to understanding the essence that had turned my life upside down. Azrael's words had started to resonate with me more than I wanted to admit.

Flipping through the pages, I came across a passage that stopped me in my tracks:

"The weight of the essence is not one to be taken lightly. I had thought, once, that I could bear it alone—that it was my burden alone to carry. But Talisa reminded me that we are stronger -we trust. The bond we share is not just a gift; it is a lifeline. One that we must protect at all costs."

The words hit close to home. I had been trying to handle everything by myself, unwilling to lean on others. Michael had said the same thing to me not long ago, and now here it was again, echoing through Azrael's experiences. Maybe I wasn't as alone in this as I thought.

I read further, my eyes catching on another entry that felt even more personal:

"Talisa's presence unnerves me. How can one so mortal, so fragile, stir something inside me that even I, an angel, cannot fully comprehend? I feel drawn to her in ways that defy logic, and yet, every time I get close, the weight of my purpose pulls me away. Perhaps the answer lies not in understanding, but in accepting."

Azrael's confusion mirrored my own. I too felt drawn to something, to people—especially to Diarmid—that I couldn't fully explain. Diarmid, with his intense gaze and his silent, watchful presence, stirred feelings in me that I wasn't ready to understand. Like Azrael, I wasn't sure if I ever would be.

I closed the journal and leaned back in my seat, staring out the window. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the floor, and despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me, I felt a small sense of clarity. I didn't have to figure it all out right now. One step at a time.

The library had grown quieter, with only a few students scattered across the tables, focused on their work. The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted when I felt a presence behind me. Instinctively, my body tensed. I opened my eyes and turned slowly, only to see Diarmid standing there, looking uncertain.

"Can I sit?" he asked, his voice unusually soft, almost hesitant. There was something in his expression—uncertainty, maybe even vulnerability—that took me by surprise.

I nodded, offering a small smile. "Of course."

As he sat down next to me, my heart began to race. I prayed he couldn't hear it, but with the way he was looking at me, I had a feeling he sensed everything. Diarmid had that effect—his mere presence pulled me in, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"I saw you leave earlier," he said quietly, his tone almost apologetic. "I didn't mean to follow you... but I was worried."

"You don't have to worry about me, Diarmid," I replied, trying to ease his concern. But I could see it in his eyes—the worry was real.

"I can't help it," he said, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I promised Nick I'd look after you, remember?"

Nick.

His name tugged at something deep inside me. I lowered my gaze to my hands, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. "Thank you," I said softly. "Nick's okay... He contacted us. He's safe, but he still can't come home."

The mention of Nick made everything feel heavier. Diarmid, who had been watching me closely, reached out, his fingers tilting my chin gently until my eyes met his again.

"How is he?" he asked, his voice so soft it felt like a whisper, his thumb brushing the side of my face. His touch was warm, sending shivers through me. It grounded me and unnerved me all at once.

"He's managing," I whispered, my throat tight with the emotion I was holding back. "But it's hard for him. For all of us."

Diarmid's expression softened, his eyes searching mine. His thumb traced a slow, comforting path along my cheek, and it was in that moment that I realized how much he had been holding back—how much he truly cared. The unspoken tension between us had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it was impossible to ignore.

"I know you're trying to carry all of this on your own," Diarmid said, his voice low but firm. "But you don't have to. You're not a burden, Arwen."

His words hit me like a wave, the tenderness in his voice breaking through the walls I had built around myself. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

"I don't know how to let people in anymore," I admitted, barely above a whisper. "I've been holding it together for so long... for Nick, for everyone."

"You're allowed to lean on people," Diarmid said gently, his forehead almost touching mine. "You don't have to be so strong all the time."

The closeness between us was overwhelming, but I didn't pull away. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel the crushing weight of everything on my shoulders. Diarmid's hand, still cradling my face, was steady and reassuring, his presence calming the storm inside me.

"You've always been there," I whispered, my voice trembling. "And I've always been so afraid to let you in."

His breath hitched, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me just a fraction closer. "Let me be there for you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not just because of Nick. Because I want to."

His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But the moment we touched, everything else faded away. The kiss was slow, gentle, but filled with a depth of emotion that neither of us could deny any longer. When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing heavily, lost in the moment.

"I care about you, Arwen," Diarmid whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "More than I should."

My heart swelled at his words, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something other than fear. I felt hope.