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I look up and he stops, chin low, eyes on me, warm and understanding—but unflinching.

"Damn you, Reth," I mutter. I\'m swallowing tears and have to look away because his kindness just makes the emotion worse.

"I come to comfort you, and you would curse me?" he asks, his low rumble warm and cheeky.

"Stop smiling. I don\'t feel like smiling."

He sighs and drops into the chair on the other side of my desk. He\'s shirtless as usual and I\'m so used to seeing him that way, it isn\'t until he curls himself into the slightly-too-small chair, his long thighs extending well off the seat, his abs crunched to washboard steel, that I remember just what he is. His shoulders are wider than the chair and I almost laugh. When I sit there my feet don\'t touch the ground.

"This is so stupid. You aren\'t going anywhere. You aren\'t even real," I say, waving my hand and turning to look for a paper that I know I need for some reason.

Reth raises an eyebrow to challenge that idea, but only rubs his jaw without speaking, his eyes still fixed on me. He knows I\'m avoiding this, and he won\'t let me. And I kind of love him and hate him for it in the same moment.

"How\'s Elia? Gahrye and Kalle?" I ask, deflecting.

He smiles. "They are, quiet literally, perfect. Life for us now is perfect, Aimee. You know that. Why are you dancing with words?"

"Because I don\'t want to say goodbye," I say, bluntly. Swing the words at him like a weapon. I imagine them like a club, thudding on that massive ribcage of his. It would ring like a gong.

His lips tip up on one side. "I twitch towards violence when I\'m grieving as well. Our instincts tell us to fight, but the wounds within are invisible enemies. If you swing at them, you only hurt yourself."

"Thank you, Obi-wan," I say dryly.

Reth tips his head. "You haven\'t referred to me this way before, is it a title in your world?"

I snort. "You could say that."

He senses my resistance but decides to ignore it. He is determined to make me face this, and I am determined not to. He\'ll win, because he\'s right. But I\'m going to make him fight for it.

"Ask me," he says quietly a moment later.

I blink. "Ask you what?"

"Ask me the question they\'re asking you."

I squirm uncomfortably and look away from him again.

He sighs. "It may be easier for me to answer—they may accept it more readily from me."

I shrug, staring out the window. My throat aches. My eyes pinch. There\'s nervous energy bubbling in my stomach. Of all the emotions in the human experience, I think grief is the one I struggle most to express in front of others. And I don\'t know why

"I\'m a big girl," I say quietly. "I can answer the questions."

"I know you can, but you and I both know that this is the time to answer. You\'re just dodging it because you don\'t want to reach the end. But the end will come, whether you turn from it or not, Aimee. So why not embrace what we have for as long as is left to us?" He hesitates, then leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Ask me."

My chin trembles and I suck in a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay. "They\'re asking me why I killed you. And Elia. And Gahrye and Kalle. They want to know why I\'d end things that way. Even though they understand that you\'re in the best place and you\'re happy, they don\'t want you to be gone."

"You knew they would struggle with that. But it still upsets you… because?"

"Because I was so okay with that decision, because I knew why it had to be, and I got to be the selfish one who could keep you even after the book ended. But now it\'s hit me… I didn\'t realize that you would be gone for me, too."

His face drops in sympathy. "It is different now," he said in his quiet, deep rumble that was one of the most beautiful sounds. "But only for a time."

"But that\'s the time we\'re in. That\'s why they\'re struggling. That\'s why I\'m struggling. We all have loss, Reth. We all miss people—real people. And we miss the fictional ones too, and I hadn\'t realized how it was going to hit to me know I had well and truly ended your story. So I can\'t even imagine what it\'s like for them. They can only speculate."

Reth tips his head, measuring me with his eyes. "So… why did you do it?"

I stare at him. Glare at him. And he gives a small smile.

"I come with a message from the Creator," he says softly.

"Oh?" Is there hope? A miracle? Do I have permission to not draw a line under this story? Can Reth miraculously be resurrected—

"He says, do not flinch. Your prayers were answered. Your story has achieved what you always prayed it would. So do not flinch now."

Well, brilliant.

I huff and sit back in my chair, throwing my pen down and putting my face in my hands. "That\'s helpful."

"It is. Don\'t underestimate the value of knowing your purpose, Aimee. So many don\'t."

I know he\'s right. This journey has been incredible for me. A journey that began almost forty years ago when I was still a child and first began to dream about writing stories that others would want to read.

I knew my purpose then, and I lost sight of it. Let the world, my parents (who loved me) and fears for financial security or social ridicule steal it from me.

At the Creator\'s urging, I returned to that dream in my mid-thirties. It seemed late to try and achieve something I\'d dreamed about for so long. And yet… here we are.

"I\'m curious," Reth says, watching me. "What was the prayer that He answered? Was it money?"

I snort. "No. It was… you\'re going to think it sounds dumb."

Reth\'s head jerks back. "You think I would ridicule you?"

I give him a look. No one except the Creator Himself knows Reth better than I did. And though he is a wonderful man, he loves nothing better than to use humor to deflect tension. He\'s a teaser.

"I know you won\'t belittle me," I say carefully. "But I\'ll ask you not to make a joke about it."

Reth sighs as if I\'ve handed him a huge burden. "Very well," he grumbles. "I vow that I will not tease."

I look down at my hand because I\'ve never admitted this to anyone before, but who better to finally confess it to?