Page 62 of Autumn L.A.W

A faint echo thrummed through Sahara’s awareness. A distant drumbeat. Familiar and unwelcome. The obelisk’s signature, as light as a shadow sliding against her mind.

Her breath hitched, so small only someone standing very close would notice.

Ezra did.

His hand rested on the small of her back. A quiet anchor.

“You feel it,” he said softly. Not a question.

“Yes.” Her gaze remained steady. “It’s not strong. Not yet.”

He simply nodded, and that was enough.

The sensation faded back into the quiet. The moment had passed.

A pair of dock workers walked by, arguing cheerfully about a football match. A boy jogged past carrying a stack of tea glasses on a tray that rattled and never spilled. The city went on breathing around them.

“The container will take a while,” Ezra said, more gently now. “We could find coffee. Good coffee.”

Sahara’s answer was immediate and entirely sincere. “Yes, please. Before I revert to my feral state.”

“That would be tragic,” he said. “I’d hate for the port authority to have to trap you humanely and release you into the desert.”

She huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh.

They stepped out of the port gates together, into sunlight and noise and the familiar strangeness of a place both ancient and alive.

And for the first time since the obelisk began humming through her bones, Sahara didn’t feel like she was facing it alone.

The café barely managed to fit in the small space. It crouched in a narrow street, more shadow than storefront, with faded awnings striped in deep green and sun-faded gold. Small metal tables perched at defiant angles on the uneven walkway. Somewhere inside, beans roasted, filling the air with a smell that teased at the taste buds.

They chose a table tucked into the shade, the world flowing past in ripples. Cats slunk by in dignified procession. Scooters buzzed. A boy carried a tray of tea glasses down the street with the careful balance of a plate spinner.

They sat side-by-side instead of across from each other. It looked accidental.

It wasn’t.

Two tiny cups of strong Egyptian coffee arrived, dark and potent. A small silver dish of sugar cubes gleamed between them. They reached for it at the same time. Their fingers brushed.

Sahara didn’t move away immediately. Ezra didn’t either. A spark. Then they retreated, each pretending to focus on their cups. Conversation arrived slowly, like a shy cat.

“I feel like I should say something… My mentor,” Ezra said, voice mild, “once told me I had a gift. I assumed he meant as a person. Turned out he meant as a resource.”

Sahara studied the street rather than his face. “That’s clarifying.”

“I thought it might help to explain me.” His mouth twitched. “Calm became armor. Control became safety. Distance… well. Distance meant nobody could throw me away once they’d gotten what they wanted.”

She said nothing, but he felt her listening. Not evaluating nor measuring him for weakness. Just listening.

He took a breath. It seemed as if he’d been holding it since he was nineteen.

“But standing beside you doesn’t feel like losing control,” he said slowly. “It feels like trust. Which is disorienting for me.”

Her laugh was soft and humorless. “You should see it from my side.”

He waited.

“My father was an Egyptologist,” she said. “The kind who forgot to eat when he was on a dig but remembered to catalog pottery shards by personality type.”