Page 73 of Enslak

"Different is fine." She interrupted, squeezing my hand. "Different is good. Who you are now? This person sitting here with me, remembering how to be gentle, figuring out how to live after everything they did to you?" Her voice softened. "This person is great, Enslak. You're great."

I stared at her, something loosening in my chest—something that had been wound so tight for so long I'd forgotten it was even there.

"You don't have to be who you were a hundred years ago," she insisted, frowning slightly. "That person went through unimaginable trauma. Of course you've changed. Of course there are gaps and struggles. But the person you are now—the one I've gotten to know these past weeks—he's strong and kind and trying so damn hard. And I..." She paused, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I really like who you are now."

The tightness in my throat made it hard to speak. "You mean that."

It wasn't a question. But she answered anyway.

"Every word." She brought my hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. "So stop worrying about meeting some impossible standard. Your family will understand. And if they don't, they'll learn to. Because this version of you? The one sitting here with me right now? He's more than enough."

I wanted to believe her. Wanted it so badly it hurt.

Niki went quiet. Her thumb kept tracing those circles on the back of my hand. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted—careful, like she was approaching something fragile.

"George had a theory. About your mind."

I looked at her. Waiting.

"He thinks you built the walls yourself," she said. "The mental blocks. He thinks you constructed them as protection—a way to survive the torture, the experimentation, the constant trauma. Your mind couldn't handle what was being done to you, so it retreated. Built barriers to keep the worst of it locked away."

The words settled over me.

Built the walls myself.

As protection.

And suddenly—with a clarity that was almost painful—I knew she was right.

I could feel them. Those walls. Those barriers. Layers of protection I'd wrapped around the core of who I was, keeping the memories at bay. Keeping the pain locked down. Keeping myself safe in the only way I could.

The Ulkommenian had broken my body. Augmented it. Turned it into something monstrous. But they hadn't broken my mind. Not completely.

I'd hidden it from them. Buried it so deep that even I couldn't fully access it.

"Yes," I said, the word barely a whisper. "That's... yes. That feels true."

Her eyes met mine. I saw everything in them—the hope, the fear, the absolute certainty that I was worth saving.

My heart did that strange thing again—shifting its rhythm to beat in perfect sync with hers.

Something about it felt significant. Something to do with my kind. With Vaktaire biology or culture or... something. The knowledge was there, buried behind what remained of those walls, but I couldn't quite reach it.

All I knew was that when she was near, I felt complete. When she was away—even for a short time—I felt anxious. Unmoored. Like part of me was missing.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I wanted her around. Always. That I would protect her with my life. That nothing—nothing—was more important than keeping her safe.

"I want to stay here," I said. "With you. Just... a little longer. Is that selfish?"

"No." She squeezed my hand. "It's not selfish."

We sat in silence for a while. The sound of the river filled the space between us—water rushing over stones, birds calling in the canopy above, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"I remember some things," I said quietly. "About what happened. About how I ended up... like this."

Niki went still beside me. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready."

"I want to."