The rain painted silver trails down the windows of the quiet apartment, tapping a rhythm only the heartbroken could hear. It was late, the kind of late that blurred reality into dreams—except for Elia. She sat on the couch, still in her café uniform, holding a cup of untouched tea. Across from her stood Orion, the city’s silent guardian—known to her as nothing more than Kieran Vale, the man who delivered her wildflower bouquets on Tuesdays and made her laugh until she forgot how lonely she was.

Until tonight.

He stood by the door in his dark hoodie, soaked through. He looked like he'd fought the storm itself.

“You’re hurt,” she said, rising to her feet. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” Kieran said, turning slightly so she wouldn’t see the gash on his side. But it was too late—she already had. And there were other things too: the bruises, the way he winced when he moved, the smell of scorched asphalt clinging to him.

“Elia, I have to tell you something,” he said softly.

Her expression tightened, worry and confusion tangling behind her eyes. “What’s going on, Kieran? You disappear for days, you show up like this—”

“I’ve lied to you,” he interrupted. His voice was hoarse. Not from shouting, but from carrying too much weight for too long.

“I know,” she whispered.

The words stopped him cold. “You… know?”

Elia nodded. “Not all of it. But the bruises, the news reports, the way you flinch when someone mentions Orion… You didn’t just disappear. You were out there saving people.” She took a shaky breath. “I just didn’t want to believe it. Because if it was true, it meant you were constantly walking into danger. And it meant… that I might lose you.”

Kieran stepped forward and pulled off his hoodie. Beneath it, the matte-black suit shimmered faintly, the symbol on his chest like a broken star stitched with lightning. No voice modulator, no glowing mask. Just Kieran. The man she loved, and the hero the city worshipped.

“I never wanted to lie to you,” he said. “But every time I tried to tell you, I saw how peaceful your world was. I didn’t want to drag you into mine. Not with the monsters I face. Not with what I’ve become.”

“You didn’t become anything,” Elia said. “You just… stepped up when no one else would.”

She reached for him then, hands trembling as they touched his face, tracing the familiar path of his jaw. “You’re still you. You’re still the man who brings me lavender on bad days. The one who memorized my tea order and sings out of tune when he thinks I can’t hear.”

Her voice cracked. “But why tell me now?”

Kieran looked at her, heart in his throat. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of dying without you knowing the truth. Because every time I run into danger, I think about you. And because I love you, Elia. And I can’t keep loving you from behind a mask.”

For a moment, silence wrapped around them, thick as the storm outside.

Then Elia stepped forward and kissed him—gently, with the kind of grace only found in truth.

“You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered against his lips. “And you’re not going to lose me.”

Lightning split the sky outside, but inside, something softer burned—two souls, no longer separated by lies, but bound by the courage it took to finally _see_ each other.

And for the first time in years, Kieran felt like he could finally breathe.