My phone vibrated against the desk, the screen lighting up with a name I'd been dreading: Marcus Gray. My father. I let it ring twice more before answering, steeling myself for the inevitable confrontation.
"Sylvie." His voice cut through the line like ice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening. "I'm working, Father."
"Don't play games with me. I just got off the phone with Cassian's father. Do you have any idea what you've thrown away?"
The familiar tightness constricted my chest. Ten years of conditioning made me want to apologize, to explain, to make him understand. But something had shifted inside me since Arizona.
"A powerful man like Cassian Edwards doesn't come along every day," Marcus continued, his voice rising. "You've embarrassed us all. The Gray name—"
"I don't care about the Gray name," I interrupted, surprising myself with my firmness.
"What did you say?" The shock in his voice was almost satisfying.
"I said I don't care. I'm not marrying Cassian. I'm not coming back to New York. And I'm done trying to be the daughter you want me to be."
Silence stretched between us. I could almost see him recalibrating, preparing his next attack.
"You're making a mistake," he finally said, his tone dangerously soft. "You've always been too emotional, too weak to handle real responsibility."
I looked at the small succulent on my desk—the one Jude and I had rescued from the desert. Its leaves had perked up, no longer wilted but still fragile.
"No, Father," I replied, my voice steady. "For the first time in my life, I'm not making a mistake. And I'm not weak."
I ended the call before he could respond, my hand trembling slightly but my resolve unshaken.
---
The canyon walls glowed amber in the setting sun as Jude and I set up our camping equipment. We'd been collecting data all day, and now the vast sky above promised a night of unparalleled stargazing.
"Your father?" Jude asked quietly as we built a small fire.
I nodded, poking at the kindling with a stick. "He doesn't understand why I left."
"Does anyone?" Jude's question was gentle, not accusatory.
I considered the dancing flames before answering. "Not really."
We sat in comfortable silence as darkness settled around us. The stars emerged one by one, countless points of light against the deepening blue.
"I was there," I finally said, my voice barely audible above the crackling fire. "When they took him."
Jude's eyes found mine in the firelight.
"The kidnappers," I clarified. "I was supposed to be studying the environmental impact of their operations. I wasn't supposed to be there when they grabbed Cassian."
The memories washed over me—the gunfire, the terror, the split-second decision that changed everything.
"I got him out," I continued, staring into the flames. "But I've been paying for it ever since."
"Because he never truly saw you," Jude said softly.
I looked up, startled by his insight. "For ten years, I thought if I just... if I became what he needed, he'd love me back."
"You saved his life," Jude said, his voice fierce with conviction. "That kind of courage is rare. And walking away from him when you realized he couldn't love you back—that's even rarer."
Something warm unfurled in my chest—not the hollow validation I'd craved from Cassian, but something deeper, more genuine.
---
"These samples are incredible," I exclaimed, examining the geological specimens under the microscope.
Jude smiled, leaning back in his chair. "I told you the northern ridge was worth accessing."
"How did you manage it?" I asked, looking up at him. "That area's been restricted for months."
He shrugged, but I caught the slight flush on his cheeks. "I have connections."
"Connections that can bypass federal restrictions?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Let's just say I know people who appreciate good science," he replied evasively.
We worked late into the night, analyzing the data and drafting preliminary findings. The lab felt different with Jude—warmer somehow, despite the air conditioning.
"Hungry?" he asked around midnight.
I nodded, realizing we'd skipped dinner.
He produced takeout containers from a bag I hadn't noticed. "Chinese okay?"
"Perfect."
We spread the food across an empty lab bench, working and eating simultaneously. Between bites of lo mein, I found myself laughing at his impression of Professor Martinez's reaction to our findings.
Jude's hand absently ran through his hair as he concentrated on a particularly complex data set. The gesture was endearing—so different from Cassian's calculated movements.
"You know," I said, studying him, "you're not what I expected when I came to Arizona."
"Oh?" His eyes met mine, warm and curious.
"I thought I'd be working with another academic robot," I admitted. "Someone more concerned with publications than actual discovery."
Jude's smile widened, and something electric passed between us—a current of possibility that made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety.
