One week later, they went to an art museum.
Rhys stood before a Renaissance painting of a tragic love story and felt... nothing. No connection to past lives. No ghostly presence. Just appreciation for the art.
"This is nice," he said. "Being able to just enjoy things without everything being loaded with meaning."
"Must be a relief." Liam studied the painting. "Though I have to ask—do you miss it? The intensity of what you had with Pryce?"
"Sometimes," Rhys admitted. "It was awful, but it was also... consuming. Everything felt huge and important. Normal life feels small by comparison."
"Small can be good. Small is sustainable."
"Is that what you're offering? Sustainable?"
"I'm offering real." Liam turned to face him. "I can't promise grand passion or eternal devotion or any of that gothic romance stuff. I can promise showing up. Being honest. Working through problems instead of running from them. Is that enough?"
Rhys thought about it. Really thought.
About the difference between being obsessed over and being loved. Between being possessed and being chosen. Between intensity and intimacy.
"It's enough," he said. "More than enough."
Liam smiled and took his hand.
They walked through the museum like that—hands linked, comfortable silence, just two people figuring out what they might become to each other.
It wasn't the epic love story Valerian and Elara could have been.