26. Private Frequencies
Lyra's POV – Saturday Afternoon, Park
Cassian wasn't late.
She spotted him near the benches, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a paper bag. No security. No entourage. Just a man standing by a tree, watching a group of kids chase each other around the grass.
She approached slowly. His eyes tracked her, calm but searching.
"You brought snacks?" she asked, nodding to the bag.
"Salted chips and something vaguely lemon-flavored," he said, offering the bag.
She took it and sat. The bench was cold through her coat. Beside her, his shoulder didn't touch hers, but the space felt shared anyway.
They watched the children for a while. One boy tripped, popped back up, shouted something unintelligible.
"I used to pretend I was a bird," Lyra said. "When I ran."
Cassian glanced sideways. "Did you fly well?"
She shrugged. "Not really. But I tried."
His smile was small but there. "I like that."
She looked at him. "What about you?"
He thought for a moment. "I read cookbooks. Hid them under my bed like they were contraband."
Her brow lifted. "Rebel."
Cassian nodded gravely. "Very."
A gust of wind rustled the branches. She pulled her coat tighter.
"Your color's better," he said quietly. "You've been sleeping."
She didn't ask how he knew.
"I have," she admitted.
He didn't say more. Just sat with her until the chip bag was empty and the sun had dipped slightly behind the clouds.
---
Lyra's Apartment – That Evening
The takeout smelled like comfort.
Cassian kicked off his shoes without being asked. She handed him chopsticks, and they sat on the floor beside the coffee table. Alexa circled once, sniffed the air, and decided Cassian could stay.
They ate in silence for a while. Not awkward. Just… shared.
Lyra reached for the ginger beef. "I worked at a bookstore once," she said. "During university."
Cassian chewed, nodded. "What section?"
"Admin." She smirked. "But I always snuck off to the poetry shelf."
"You read poetry?"
"When no one's watching."
He leaned back against the couch. "I wanted to be a chef when I was twelve. My father called it a 'distraction.' Fired the cook who let me dice onions."
Her hand stilled. "You're serious."
He met her eyes. "Yeah."
For a moment, the air shifted. Not heavy. Just open.
---
Later
They didn't plan to kiss.
It happened in the quiet, after the food was cleared and the city hummed low outside her window.
He looked at her like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to.
She leaned closer.
And he let it happen.
Warm. Slow. No urgency. Just breath shared and the brush of lips learning their shape.
His hand cupped her cheek gently. Hers curled into the collar of his shirt.
When he pulled back, it wasn't rejection.
"I'm not rushing this," he said, voice soft. "You're not a secret. Not anymore."
She didn't answer. Just rested her forehead to his, heart steady for the first time in weeks.
---
Cassian's POV - Penthouse
They didn't talk about the future.
Not yet.
But she texted him before bed.
> L: Cat is judging me. She knows I smiled too much today.
> C: Tell Alexa I'll bring bribes next time.
> L: Orange chicken?
> C: And shrimp dumplings.
> L: You spoil us.
> C: Only you.
He stared at that last message longer than he meant to.
Then locked his phone and slept better than he had in months.
---
Monday – Office
Lyra's shoes made purposeful clicks down the hallway. Her hair was pulled back, blazer crisp. Her file landed on Michael's desk exactly three minutes early.
He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded once. "Final audit comparison. Slides annotated."
He skimmed the top page. "You're back."
"I didn't go anywhere," she said. "Just needed a minute."
---
Theo's POV – Executive Floor
She didn't move like she was hiding anymore.
Didn't flinch when Cassian passed in the hallway. Didn't drop her eyes in meetings.
She met the room like she belonged there.
Theo watched Cassian watching her. Not like a secret.
Like something inevitable.
He didn't smile. Just logged the shift in silence.