The door swung open, "Baby, I'm home!" Nord shrugged off the coat that had braved the day's onslaught, draping it with a flick of relief. "Baby, I said I was home!" Her voice rose, playfully demanding acknowledgement as she wrestled with her boots. "Baal!"

From the kitchen, his head appeared, haloed by the warm glow of domestic bliss, his smile a beacon. "I'm making pizza!" The words were an invitation, the scent of baking dough a subtle undertone in the air.

"Seriously?" Her feet found a new purpose, propelling her towards the kitchen, towards him. Their lips met in a kiss that spoke of how much they missed each other, even though they saw each other each morning. "What sort of pizza are we talking about?" she inquired, curiosity in her eyes.

"Four seasons! I bought all the cheeses, but none with weird mould on it; I know you hate those, and I even bought a new wine for us to try!" His enthusiasm was infectious, and he scurried back to the oven, his vigilance a testament to culinary dedication.

The table was set as Nord was looking around while Kirara wove her affection around her legs with soft purrs. "Well, do you need any help?" Nord offered, surveying the preparations.

"Nah, go take a shower—you look like you need one," he dismissed gently, his hands waving her away.

The day had etched itself onto her, "Had a super busy day," she confessed, "I'm starving. Forgot to have lunch."

"Go, go, everything is under control," he assured her, his kingdom of flavours well in hand.

Her gaze caught the siren call of the cheese, vibrant slices of temptation housed within the cupboard. "Is that the cheese?" she queried, each slice finding its way to her, an appetizer to the main event.

"Yes," he responded, a touch of panic lacing his voice as he watched the cheese disappear. "Leave some for the pizza!"

"I thought it was leftovers!" she protested in mock innocence.

"No, go take a shower!" His tone was firm, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. "Let the cheese live!"

"Okay, okay, I'm dining with a tyrant tonight," her voice carried through the air as she retreated to the sanctuary of the bathroom. "Kinda sexy!"

"A sexy Italian tyrant!" His retort followed her, a playful barb in their evening routine.

----------------------------------------

The leftovers of the evening were scars on the plates, draped like a gossamer veil over the room where the last drops of wine languished in the bottle, akin to the day's final light waning. His fingers reached out, finding hers in a gesture laden with silent pleas. "Talk with me," Baal urged, his voice a soft caress against the silence that crawled into their apartment.

"Just thinking," she murmured, her words floating atop the remnants of her wine, delicate and elusive. "About what?" he prodded gently, his voice a soft echo resonating in the tranquil room.

"A loophole," she admitted, her confession hanging in the air, fragile and hopeful. Maybe even foolish.

"There is no loophole, Nord. When I fulfill your wish... it's as if I never was. Your memories of me, our shared moments, everything... will vanish," he explained again, his voice a trail through a well-trodden path of resignation. "Just like that," he added, the snap of his fingers punctuating the finality.

"But if I keep photos, videos... they might trigger something, right?" she reasoned, a thread of hope weaving through her logic.

"Baby, to you, I'll be just a stranger, a dude you never met. It might even jumble your brain... I don't know. No one tries to remember me, Nord. What if it... I don't drive you crazy, or you fall sick or something," he countered.

"But you'd still see me?" In her eyes flickered a glimmer of something – fear, perhaps, or the dawning of acceptance.

"Yes, like a ghost, haunting you if I'm bored," he said, bitterness lacing his words, "A ghost, albeit a rather charming one. We have to agree on that."

"So, I'd lose all our happy memories? Even the ones with South? My times with South and Kirara... they are happy memories for me."

"Our deal only erases the memories we've made together," he clarified, his voice steady but his heart heavy with unspoken sorrow. He understood her desperation, the human yearning to cling to the narrative threads of their story as if by doing so, they could defy its end.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"So, if I write about you on paper, since it's not a 'happy' memory per se..." She trailed off, her voice a wisp of hope against the looming reality.

"It would still have my name," he interjected softly yet firmly.

"Dammit." The word fell from her lips like a white flag, signalling her capitulation in their silent battle against the inevitable.

"Nord, please, can't we just savour what's left? We've been over this," he pleaded, the pressure of his hand on hers a silent testament to his words.

"What would you do in my place?" she challenged, her gaze piercing, seeking his truth.

"Me?"

"Yes, if you were me, what would you choose?"

His response came unhesitatingly. "I'd break the deal. I wouldn't leave. I'd stay."

"And South? What about her?" The mention of her sister served as an anchor to the world beyond their cocoon.

"She's not my sister. I don't have that bond with her," he replied, the stark truth in his words unadorned. "We never even met!"

"But she's my sister... imagine yourself in my shoes. What then?"

"Nord..."

"If she were me, what would you do?" Nord pressed, changing tactics, refilling her glass with the last drop of the red wine.

"Nothing," he answered, surprising even himself.

"Nothing?" she echoed, disbelief and curiosity mingling in her voice.

Baal shrugged, releasing her hand as he leaned back, his posture one of resignation. "I'd stick to the plan. It doesn't matter," he muttered, his words trailing off.

"It does matter. Tell me," Nord insisted, the wine bottle hovering emptily over her glass. He was hiding something; she had known him for too long and too well.

He stood, beginning to clear the table, his movements a diversion from the conversation. "It's not important," he demurred.

"Talk to me," Nord urged, rising to follow him.

"I said it doesn't matter," his voice held a finality as he moved towards the kitchen.

"But soon, I'll forget everything anyway. You've said so. So why does it matter now? Tell me."

He paused and turned off the faucet, the sound of water ceasing as he methodically dried his hands. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his posture reflecting the weight of his thoughts as if he were about to reveal a truth Nord had never considered in all their years together. She had a point.

"I wouldn't focus on destroying the Hollow right away. That would be my main focus."

"What?" Her response was a mix of confusion and surprise, "Why?"

"I'd use it as bait instead. Create as much commotion as possible. Draw out anyone who might have even a sliver of knowledge about what the Hollow truly is. And taking my sweet time to gather them all in the same point."

"Why would I do that? It's risky. It puts me in danger," she countered, her brows knitting perplexity.

"Or," Baal said, tilting his head contemplatively, "it might put them in danger instead."

"I don't follow," she admitted, her confusion evident.

"The Hollow, as you've described it, is a construct, a spell with a specific purpose. Now, what that purpose is, I can't say. I have no idea. It could be a weapon, a conduit, or perhaps a key to something far more powerful. If it was created, there's a creator," he explained, his voice measured, passing the kitchen cloth over the counter with a practised motion.

"So, you're suggesting I should go after whoever created it?" Nord asked, taken aback by the depth of his reasoning.

"Or anyone who knows about it. Knowledge is power. Then, and only then, destroy it. What's the point of destroying something if someone else can just recreate it?" he posed the question with a hint of rhetorical emphasis.

"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted, a sense of defeat tinting her voice.

"You're embarking on a wild goose chase into a world where I can't assist you. I don't know how to help from where I'll be. But I'll find a way... or not."

"But we've trained. I know how to use the keys, how to fight... and I know how to wield my own magic. I'm not going into this unprepared," she asserted, "You taught me."

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly ease my concerns," Baal responded, his gaze lingered on her, a silence coated in fears and unyielding support. "I don't know if I did enough. We started this when we were kids."

----------------------------------------

"Baal?"

"Hum?"

"Are you sleeping?"

Baal's voice was a soft hum in the darkness, a gentle resonance amidst the whisper of sheets. "I'm trying," he murmured, shifting to pull her closer, their bodies intertwining beneath the covers. "Talk to me, Morningstar."

"I don't want you to haunt me. I want you to have a normal life," she vented, her words spilling out like a stream of unspoken wishes. "I want you to go to college, get your degree, teach music to kids. Follow your dreams, Baal."

He paused, considering her words. "Hmm, would you do that?" he challenged gently.

"Do what?"

"Reverse the roles. Imagine I'm thrust into a world I hardly know, with half my memories erased. Then, one drunken night, I'd call you, asking you to lead a normal life, to act as if I never existed."

"Yeah..."

"That's not how it works, Nord. First off, I'm a demon; we fell in love just once, and that box is already checked. I could never knowingly let you go without ensuring your well-being... it would be agonizing, but I'd need to know. So, I'd probably shadow you for a while. And then..."

"And then?" she prompted curiously.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Thinking about it is sad. We should be discussing marriage, how many kids to have, finding a bigger place, planning our next vacation... not vanquishing some eldritch entity."

"I sometimes regret having summoned you," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

His embrace tightened around her, a protective cocoon against her regret. "Don't say that. If it weren't for you, I'd be gone by now. You saved me, Nord. Never, ever regret that."

"I'm drunk."

Baal chuckled, "I know; you drank that bottle almost solo."

"I wish there was a way to make impossible wishes."

"That would probably be forbidden."

"Why?"

"Imagine if the wrong person made the wrong wish. What could happen?"