Chapter 18: Fractures in the Glass

Sienna opened the door to her luxurious apartment, a glass of liquor loosely clasped in her hand. Her red, tear-swollen eyes and flushed cheeks stood out sharply against her pale skin, a stark reminder of her spiraling night.

"Calen," she exhaled, his name barely more than a whisper.

For a few eternal seconds, neither of them moved, locked in the weight of the moment. Then, as if drawn by a gravitational pull, they embraced. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other, the world outside melting away.

"Hi," Calen murmured softly into her ear.

"Yeah…hi," Sienna replied in a fragile voice, her face buried against his chest. A few tears slid down her cheeks as her breath caught in a faint sob. She clung to him as though letting go would shatter her completely.

Once inside the apartment, Calen glanced around. Everything was exactly as he remembered—immaculate, refined, untouched by time. Sienna, seemingly aware of her vulnerability, pulled away and straightened herself. Her composure returned like a shield, and with a deliberate stride, she walked toward the kitchen.

"What’ll you have?" she asked in her familiar, clipped tone, her voice brimming with the usual pride and self-assurance.

"Beer," Calen sighed. He smirked faintly, recognizing the shift. She was back to being the Sienna he knew—the commanding, unshakable woman who had once been the center of his world. Yet, there was a part of him that cherished the fleeting vulnerability she’d shown moments ago. It made her seem more human, more real, and in a strange way, even more endearing.

Sienna handed him a beer and sat beside him on the plush sofa, cradling her own glass. She took a long sip before speaking.

"So? What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone carrying a sharp edge, almost as if to fend off further concern.

"I heard you were back," Calen began, choosing his words carefully. "And that you were having some trouble—"

"This damn floating island is nothing but a big village," Sienna cut him off, her frustration spilling over. "People talking about me behind my back—it’s disgusting. Who the hell do they think they are?" Her pride bristled as she took another swig from her glass. "It makes me sick."

"Look," Calen said, leaning forward. "It’s okay to let people help you. You don’t always have to handle everything alone."

"Really?" Sienna snapped, raising an eyebrow. "Then take your own advice, Calen."

Her tone was sharp, but Calen knew how to handle her moods. He leaned back, grinning mischievously.

"Touché," he said. "But don’t forget—you helped me once, and I let you. Remember that time I lost my job? You basically pampered me back to life." He adopted an exaggeratedly dramatic tone. "I mean, it was shocking! I never imagined you had such a caring side. Who knew you could be so…nice? Maybe even…dare I say it…kind?" He was teasing her, that was the only way to change her mood.

Sienna flushed a deeper shade of red, half from the liquor and half from embarrassment. "You’re an idiot," she muttered, her scowl softening.

"I’m serious, though," Calen teased further. "For a moment, I thought you might actually be a decent person underneath all that attitude."

Sienna rolled her eyes. "I did it because I cared about you, dumbass. And don’t expect to hear me say that again—it’s humiliating." She glanced down, avoiding his gaze.

Calen chuckled, his laughter warm and genuine. "Oh, of course, Your Highness. Forgive this lowly commoner for daring to suggest you have feelings."

"Stop calling me that," Sienna huffed, but there was no venom in her tone. Instead, she sighed, her expression softening as she looked at him. "I’ve never thought of you as some lowly anything. You’ve always been special to me, Calen. The way you take on more than you should, the way you look out for everyone around you—it’s more than I’ve ever been capable of. I admire that about you."

Calen blinked, surprised. "You’ve never said anything like this before. Why now?"

"You know I’m not good at saying stuff like this," Sienna admitted, her voice quiet. She hesitated, as if weighing her next words. "I’ve thought about you every day, Calen. Coming back here wasn’t just about fixing my life—it was about…fixing things with you."

Before Calen could respond, Sienna leaned forward, her glass slipping from her hand and landing forgotten on the sofa. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that carried all the longing, regret, and hope she’d bottled up inside.

For a moment, Calen kissed her back. Her lips, tinged with the taste of alcohol and her familiar sweet perfume, felt impossibly perfect against his. Her lips were made for his, a counterpart to each other. But then reality came crashing in.

He pulled away abruptly, his heart pounding.

"I can’t… Sienna," he said, his voice pained.

Sienna’s expression froze in disbelief. No one had ever rejected her like this—let alone Calen. The sting of it turned quickly to anger.

"Of course," she said, her tone cold. "I should’ve known."

Calen didn’t respond. He stared at his beer, unsure of what to say.

"Just leave," Sienna said, rising from the sofa and grabbing another glass to refill. "I want to be alone."

Calen hesitated, but finally stood. "If you need anything—anything at all—just call me. I’ll be there," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity.

"No," she snapped, her back turned to him. "Not for anything. That much is clear."

As Calen headed to the door, she called out, her voice bitter and sharp. "And take your damn book with you. I don’t want to see it anymore."

On the entry table sat The Fifteenth Chronicle of Lucis, the fantasy novel Calen had lent her. He picked it up silently and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Sienna stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Her bravado crumbled as the weight of her emotions overwhelmed her. The glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor. She sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face, and wept uncontrollably.