He stopped outside, hand raised to knock, then lowered it. What was he supposed to say? That he needed more time? That this was too much? That he didn't know how to be what they wanted him to be?
The door opened before he could decide. Sani stood there, her expression unreadable. "We heard you on the stairs." "I'm not quiet," Cole admitted. "No, you're not."
She stepped aside. "Come in." Cole entered the room. It was small, barely large enough for the single bed and chair shoved against the wall. Kaya sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap.
Lyra leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching him with sharp eyes. Nobody spoke. Cole closed the door behind him and stood there, hat in his hands, feeling more exposed than he had in any gunfight. "I don't know what to say," he said finally. "Then don't say anything yet," Kaya replied.
"Just listen." Cole nodded. Kaya stood, moving with that same deliberate grace she always carried. "I know this doesn't make sense to you. I know your people don't do things this way, but where we come from, life and death aren't separate things."
"They're woven together. When you saved us, you didn't just give us more time. You gave us purpose, direction, a reason to keep going when we'd lost everything else." "That's not—" Cole started, but Sani cut him off. "Let her finish."
Kaya continued. "For ten years we've followed you, worked beside you, watched you try to convince yourself you don't need anyone. But you do, Cole. Everyone does. And whether you admit it or not, you've let us in."
"You've trusted us with your life more times than I can count. This isn't us forcing something on you. This is us asking you to acknowledge what's already there." "What's already there is friendship," Cole said. "Maybe. Partnership at best."
"And marriage is both of those things," Lyra said from the window. "With a promise attached." "A promise I didn't ask for." "No. But you earned it anyway."
Cole shook his head. "You can't earn something you don't want." "Can't you?" Kaya stepped closer. "You didn't want us following you, but here we are. You didn't want to care whether we lived or died, but you do."
"You've been fighting this for ten years, Cole. Aren't you tired?" "Tired of what?" "Of running from the only people who've stayed." The words hit harder than Cole expected.
He looked away, jaw tight, and tried to find an argument that would hold up. But the truth was sitting right there in the room with them, and no amount of denial would make it disappear. "This isn't how things work," he said quietly. "Not in my world." "Then maybe your world's been wrong," Lyra said.
"Or maybe yours has." "Maybe." Lyra pushed off the window frame and walked over to stand beside Kaya. "But we're here anyway, and we're not leaving. So you've got two choices."
"Accept what we're offering and build something real, or spend the rest of your life dragging us behind you like ghosts." Cole looked at each of them. Kaya, steady and certain. Lyra, sharp-edged and defiant. Sani, quiet and unmovable.