[Adrian’s POV]

The walk back to Sophie’s apartment feels different than the walk there.

There’s an electricity in the air now, a current running between the three of us that makes every accidental touch feel deliberate. Sophie’s shoulder brushing against mine. Cassian’s hand settling briefly on the small of her back to guide her around a crack in the sidewalk. The way her eyes keep meeting mine, then darting away, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

She asked to be wanted. She asked to be seen as something other than fragile.

I intend to give her exactly that.

But there’s something I need to address first.

When we get back to the apartment, Sophie excuses herself to shower. The moment the bathroom door closes and water starts running, I turn to Cassian.

“We need to talk about tonight.”

He nods, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “I figured.”

“This is new territory. The three of us, together, with everything that’s happened…” I run a hand through my hair, searching for the right words. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Neither do I.”

“So how do we do this? What are the rules?”

Cassian considers the question with his usual thoughtfulness. “We follow her lead. She tells us what she wants, what she’s comfortable with. We communicate—with her and with each other. If something feels wrong, anyone can stop it.”

“And us?” I gesture between us. “You and me?”

The question has been hovering unspoken since this arrangement began. Cassian and I aren’t together—we’re both with Sophie, orbiting the same center point. But when the three of us share space, share intimacy, boundaries become blurry.

“We’re partners in this,” Cassian says carefully. “Not rivals. If that means coordinating how we—” He pauses, rephrases. “If that means being aware of each other, working together instead of competing, I’m okay with that.”

“You’re okay with me touching her while you’re in the room?”

“I’m okay with whatever makes her feel loved.” His eyes meet mine directly. “Are you?”

The honest answer is: I don’t know. A few months ago, the thought of sharing Sophie with anyone would have been intolerable. She was mine—or she was supposed to be—and the idea of Cassian having any claim to her made my blood run hot with jealousy.

But that was before. Before she collapsed. Before we almost lost her. Before I realized that my possessiveness was part of what drove her away.

“I’m trying to be,” I say. “I can’t promise I won’t feel jealous. But I can promise I won’t let jealousy ruin this.”

Cassian nods slowly. “That’s fair. I feel the same way.”

“So we’re doing this.”

“We’re doing this.”

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