Kaidan had accepted it. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Shepard had moved on. And not just with anyone—she had chosen Garrus. It had been a slow burn, the realization settling in like the weight of a storm cloud. At first, he had tried to fight it—tried to convince himself it wasn't real, that it was a phase, that it would pass. But it didn't.

The truth was harsh. Shepard and Garrus were no longer just allies or friends. They were something more, something Kaidan hadn't been able to be for her.

He even told himself that he was happy for Garrus too. After all, the Turian had been a friend long before he had become a... competitor, if he could even be called that. It was a hard pill to swallow that Garrus had become more than a friend to Shepard, and Kaidan hadn't been able to keep up.

Move on. Focus. It's just a feeling. You'll be fine.

But knowing something and truly feeling it were two very different things.

Now, crouched behind a crumbling wall in the middle of a war-torn colony, Kaidan felt it again—the gnawing ache in his chest. The thing he had tried to bury for so long, the thing that seemed to resurface every time he saw the way Shepard and Garrus looked at each other. He could hear Joker and EDI through the comms, updating them on their progress as they reconned the city.

Shepard was kneeling beside Garrus now, patching up a wound on his arm. The soft glow of her omni-tool reflected off her face as she worked quickly, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You okay?” she asked, voice thick with concern. Her gloved hand gently pressed against his arm, securing the medi-gel in place.

“Nothing I can't handle,” Garrus rasped, his mandibles twitching in what Kaidan had come to recognize as his version of a smile.

Kaidan couldn't help but glance over, despite himself. The way Shepard's hand lingered on Garrus's arm, the way they exchanged that silent, shared understanding—it was a reminder of everything he had lost, the memory back on Horizon feeling like a slap to the face.

Stop thinking about it. He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to look out across the wreckage. There was no time to dwell on feelings, on what-ifs or could-have-beens.

“Let's keep moving,” he said, his voice a little firmer than necessary, a little sharper. “We don't know what else is out here.”

Shepard glanced at him, her gaze softening as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she didn't, but she definitely noticed something. She gave a small nod. “Right. Let's pick up the pace.”

They started moving again, boots crunching over debris, the silence pressing in on them. The wind howled between the broken walls of the ruined city until a sound cut through the stillness from beneath them, making them freeze.

The comms crackled to life.

“Shepard—do you copy?” Joker's voice came through, distorted and staticky. “Something's wrong. You need to get out of there. Now!”

Kaidan exchanged a look with Shepard and Garrus. They both felt it too—the unease, the sudden urgency in Joker's voice. But before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them trembled.

The vibrations were subtle at first, like the rumbling of distant thunder, but then the tremor grew stronger. The cracked pavement beneath their feet began to shift and splinter, as if the very earth was trying to tear itself apart. Kaidan's stomach lurched as the ground heaved underfoot.

“Move, Move!” Shepard barked, her voice cutting through the chaos. She grabbed Kaidan's arm and yanked him toward the nearest higher ground. Garrus was already moving, his armor clanking as he scrambled up the rubble.

But it was too late.

The ground beneath them cracked wide open, splitting down the middle like a jagged wound. Kaidan's heart skipped a beat as he saw the chasm opening up before them—there was nowhere to go, no escape. The rubble crumbled, and the ground gave way beneath their feet, and the darkness below swallowed them whole.