Another night. Another damn dinner without her.

The table downstairs was loud—Julian barking like some rabid mutt about how Caleb’s “textbook boxing” couldn’t stand up against his “pure grit.” Caleb, of course, just sat there like a rock, eating his food as if chewing it slower somehow meant he won the argument. Marcus was the same as always: quiet, neat, like he was dining in a monastery instead of with a pack of animals.

And her seat? Empty.

I swear, if I let her keep doing this, one day they’ll start setting the table for four instead of five. And I’m not letting that happen.

So here I am, climbing these goddamn stairs again, balancing a plate in one hand and a bottle of sake in the other. My joints creak less than they should for a man who’s spent half his life in fights, but more than I like to admit. Doesn’t matter. Every step is worth it if I can drag her stubborn ass back down for once.

“Bet she’s sitting up there again, all dramatic,” I muttered under my breath, the words bouncing off the stairwell walls. “Black robes, blood-red hair catching the wind... looking like some tragic queen on a rooftop instead of just a woman avoiding her damn dinner.”

I snorted at my own joke, then shook my head. She’d glare at me for saying that out loud—but I’d say it anyway. I always did.

The closer I got, the more I thought about how this had become routine. She isolates, I chase. She pushes away, I lean in. She says she doesn’t need anyone, I remind her she’s got me. Part of me wonders if she secretly likes the chase. The other part just doesn’t care—whether she likes it or not, she’s stuck with me.

I reached the final step, nudged the rooftop door open with my shoulder, and the night air hit me. Cool, crisp, carrying the faint buzz of neon from the city beyond. And there she was, exactly as I pictured: cross-legged on the edge of the roof, her plate balanced beside her, chopsticks moving mechanically as she stared out into the dark.

I leaned against the doorframe for a second, just watching. Damn, she looked untouchable. Always did. Like the whole world could burn and she’d still be sitting there, calm as ever.

But me? I wasn’t about to let her stay up here pretending she didn’t need warmth.

I cleared my throat and called out, voice half-playful, half-demanding:

“Alright, Ice Queen. You gonna keep making me climb all these stairs, or you planning on actually eating like a normal human being with the rest of us one of these days?”

I started walking toward her, setting the plate and sake bottle down nearby before dropping myself onto the roof with a thud.

“Better yet,” I added with a grin, “you could at least eat with me in my room. Just once. No distractions, no rookies, no morons arguing about whose style’s superior. Just me and you. I promise I’ll even behave.”

I tilted my head toward her, smirking. “Well... mostly.”