The Only Exception

✦ Chapter Twenty-Four: Where We End Up

Graduation came quietly.
Not the ceremony itself - that part had been loud, chaotic, full of forced smiles and overly long speeches no one really listened to. Kael had looked every inch the part: black robe, sash slightly crooked from where someone had tugged it for photos, cap tilted like he hadn't bothered fixing it properly since morning.

Zei stood at the edge of the crowd when it was done, watching him from a safe, fond distance as he smiled for pictures with classmates she didn't know, lecturers who seemed both proud and relieved to see another batch survive. His name had been called. His moment had come and gone.

He had looked... the same. Steady. Quiet. Like he was already somewhere else in his head.

When the last handshake was done, the last photo taken, Kael slipped through the thinning crowd and found her the way he always did - like she was the only thing in the room worth finding.

"Didn't feel any different?" Zei asked later, when they were finally alone again in his apartment. He hung the robe behind the door like it didn't belong anywhere else anymore, like it wasn't some grand artifact to be worshipped.

Kael smiled - small, crooked, familiar. "Didn't expect it to."

"You're supposed to say it's life-changing," she teased, leaning on the kitchen counter as he filled the kettle.

Kael arched a brow. "I graduated, Zei. I didn't ascend to a higher plane."

"You're impossible."

He only shrugged. "And still, you're here."

⸻

They didn't talk about futures that night. Not really.

Zei sat cross-legged on his couch, her legs tucked beneath her, watching him cook without offering to help. Not because she didn't want to. Just because she liked watching him in his own space - easy, steady, quietly good at existing.

"It feels like you've always lived here," she said.

"I've only been here a few months."

"Still. It feels... settled."

Kael plated the food - nothing fancy, just something warm, something shared - and sat across from her like this was just another night. Not a milestone. Not a shift.

"You're allowed to feel settled too, you know," he said, voice quiet beneath the soft hum of the apartment.

"I do."

"You still look like you're waiting for something to go wrong."

Zei smiled, small. "Habit."

Kael's hand found hers across the table. "Break it."

"I'm trying."

"You're doing better than you think."

⸻

The weekend stretched long and quiet.

Movies half-watched. Books left open. Conversations trailing off, not because they ran out of words but because silence felt safe here.

Her things stayed packed away less and less. A drawer here. A shelf there. Toothbrush beside his. Mug beside his. Not dramatic. Not declared. Just... understood.

On Sunday afternoon, when Kael thought she was asleep, Zei wandered into the spare room she hadn't really noticed before.

It wasn't much. A desk. Some shelves lined with forgotten textbooks and dusty papers. A keyboard shoved half-heartedly into a corner beneath an old cloth.

Curious, she pulled the cover back.

Dust scattered faintly in the light. Keys gleamed beneath her fingertips.

She pressed one - soft, uncertain - and the note echoed low and sweet, surprisingly rich despite the disuse.

Behind her, Kael's voice came, almost sheepish. "You weren't supposed to find that."

Zei turned, brows raised. "You... play?"

Kael leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck like a boy caught sneaking candy. "Used to. A lot."

"You? Mr. Mysterious-Brooding-Architecture-Student plays piano?"

Kael sighed dramatically. "You sound shocked. Is it because I'm brooding or because I'm terrible with surprises?"

Zei grinned. "Both."

He stepped closer, eyeing the keys like they might bite. "I'm not as good as I used to be. It's been a while."

"You can't just say something like that and expect me not to demand proof."

Kael gave her a look - dry, resigned, and fond all at once. "What are you going to do? Threaten me with sheet music?"

"I might." She crossed her arms. "Play something. I dare you."

Kael exhaled like a man facing a great burden. "Fine. But if I mess up, you're never allowed to bring this up again."

"No promises."

He sat, fingers hovering over the keys with a kind of reverence. Familiarity tugged at his brow, soft and quiet.

And then... music.

Not perfect. Not polished. But good. Warm. Honest. The kind of playing that spoke of someone who'd once loved it deeply, even if time had chipped away at the shine.

Zei watched his hands more than she listened to the song - the way his fingers moved without thinking, the faint crease between his brows, the tilt of his head like the melody still lived somewhere inside him.

"You're not allowed to keep prodigy-level secrets like this from me anymore," she said when the last note faded.

Kael smiled - soft, a little shy. "Noted."

"You realize this changes things. I'm going to start bragging about my boyfriend being a child piano genius."

"I was not a genius."

"You were definitely a gifted child with too much free time and parental pressure."

Kael groaned into his hand. "I hate how quickly you figured that out."

Zei laughed, warm and unhurried. "It's a talent."

He caught her wrist gently, pulled her down beside him on the bench. "I like you here, you know."

"You're just saying that because I didn't record this for blackmail purposes."

"That too."

⸻

That night, she curled beside him on the couch like nothing had changed. Like everything had.

"I like it here," she said, half-asleep.

"You should," Kael murmured against her hair. "You're half the reason it feels like home."

"You're getting sappy."

"You're getting comfortable."

"Is that bad?"

"It's the opposite."

Kael's arm tightened around her. His hand found hers again beneath the blanket, fitting easy, fitting sure.

Outside, the world kept turning.

Inside, they stayed.

Exactly where they were supposed to be.