The air in the gallery was thick with the hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. Rhaenyra stood near her display, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her latest collection.
The pieces were bold, daring—a reflection of her journey.
She scanned the room, her gaze catching on a familiar silhouette.
Her breath hitched.
Daemon.
He was leaning against one of his handcrafted tables, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Time had etched lines into his face, but his presence still commanded the room.
She hesitated.
The last time they'd spoken, words had been sharp, cutting.
But now, seeing him here, the years seemed to melt away.
She moved toward him, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
He turned, his eyes locking onto hers.
For a moment, neither spoke.
"Rhaenyra," he said finally, his voice low.
"You look… incredible."
She smiled, though it felt fragile.
"So do you. I didn't know you'd be here."
"I didn't either. The curator reached out last minute."
He glanced at her display.
"Your work… it's stunning. You've come a long way."
"So have you," she replied, her eyes drifting to his furniture.
The pieces were raw, intricate, each one telling a story.
She could see the pain, the passion, the years of solitude poured into every curve and joint.
They fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of their history pressing between them.
Finally, Daemon broke it.
"Do you have time for a drink? There's a café down the street."
She nodded. "I'd like that."
The café was quiet, a stark contrast to the gallery. They sat by the window, the city lights casting a soft glow over the table.
Rhaenyra stirred her coffee, her mind racing.
She wanted to ask him everything—how he'd been, why he'd never reached out, if he'd thought of her as often as she'd thought of him. But the words stuck in her throat.
Daemon spoke first.
"I've followed your career. You've built something amazing."
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft.
"It hasn't been easy. There were times I…" She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her cup.
"Times you what?"
She looked up, her eyes glistening. "Times I wished you were there. To share it with me."
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"I wanted to be. But after everything… I didn't think you'd want me around."
"I didn't know what I wanted back then," she admitted.
"I was so focused on proving myself, on building something that would make me feel… whole. But it wasn't enough."
Daemon reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers.
"And now?"
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his.
"Now… I think I'm ready to try again. If you are."
He squeezed her hand, his expression softening.
"I've spent years trying to forget you, Rhaenyra. But I couldn't. Not really. If this is our second chance… I'm not letting it slip away."
The tension between them dissolved, replaced by something warmer, more hopeful.
They talked for hours, catching up on the years they'd lost. The conversation flowed easily, as if no time had passed at all.
As they left the café, Daemon paused, turning to her. "What happens now?"
She smiled, a genuine one this time.
"Now… we take it one step at a time. Together."
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together."
The city buzzed around them, but for the first time in years, Rhaenyra felt still.
She didn't know what the future held, but for now, this was enough.
A second chance.
A new beginning.
And this time, she wasn't letting go.