Married My Enemy To Save My Family
Chapter 64. The Weight of Stars

Chapter 64: 64. The Weight of Stars

The Wraith drifted beyond the rim of Architect space, its hull battered, systems unstable, but whole. The crew was alive. The Nexus was gone.

And yet, it didn’t feel like victory.

Elara stood alone on the upper observation deck, forehead pressed to the cold glass. In the void beyond, space looked different. Not broken, not healed but... paused. Like the galaxy itself was holding its breath.

Behind her, the door hissed open.

Aeron didn’t speak at first. He just watched her, hands loose at his sides.

"You ever wonder," Elara said quietly, "if we were meant to live through this?"

"Every day."

She turned to face him. "We survived the Seeds. Kael. The Architects. But what now? What do people like us do when the war ends?"

Aeron smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Try not to start a new one."

She stepped closer. "I’m not the same person who boarded this ship months ago."

"I know."

"And I’m afraid I don’t know who I’ll be tomorrow."

"Then let’s find out together."

She nodded once. Then, unexpectedly, she reached up and brushed a lock of silver hair behind his ear the same one he’d burned on their first mission together. He flinched, almost instinctively, but she just smiled.

"No more flinching," she said.

"No more running," he replied.

They stayed like that close but uncertain until the deck doors opened again.

Valen entered, carrying a datapad. His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he moved screamed restraint.

"We have something," he said.

Elara and Aeron followed him down to the war room, where Damien and Nova were already gathered around the flickering command table. Holo-screens bloomed with scrambled telemetry, looping signals, and a single repeating pulse.

Nova pointed at it. "Came in about twenty minutes after the Nexus collapsed. Deep-signal frequency. Buried under old Architect echo-code, but not from them."

Damien leaned forward. "It’s... human."

A chill ran through the room.

"Where’s it coming from?" Elara asked.

Valen tapped the interface. "Out beyond the Ophiuchus Belt. A black hole cluster that should be impossible to transmit from."

Nova crossed her arms. "Unless someone wanted us to think that."

The signal pulsed again this time louder. Stronger.

Then, unexpectedly, the words formed:

’HELIX AWAITS’

Damien blinked. "Helix?"

Valen looked at Elara. "You ever heard of it?"

She shook her head. "No. But it feels familiar. Like a name I used to know in a dream."

Aeron’s voice darkened. "Or a name you were never supposed to remember."

Elara’s gaze stayed locked on the signal.

That night, the ship quieted again. A new tension hung in the air not the threat of destruction, but something more fragile.

Hope.

And fear of what hope might cost.

In the medbay, Nova stitched a gash on Damien’s arm. He winced but didn’t complain.

"Next time," Nova said, "don’t try to deflect plasma bolts with your face."

He grinned. "But it worked, didn’t it?"

She smirked, then grew quiet. "You think this Helix thing is real?"

Damien’s smile faded. "Everything we’ve seen? Yeah. I think it’s real. And I think it’s worse than the Seeds."

"You’re a real ray of sunshine."

"Just trying to stay ahead of the heartbreak."

Nova finished the stitches, then paused.

"Do you think she’ll pick one of them?"

Damien tilted his head. "You mean Aeron or Valen?"

Nova nodded.

"I think... she already has. I just don’t think she knows it yet."

Elara found herself in the ship’s greenhouse, alone. The hydroponics hummed softly a rare place untouched by blood or command. It smelled like basil and humidity. Like peace, if such a thing still existed.

Valen entered, silent until he was just behind her.

"I’m not here to fight."

"I didn’t think you were."

He stepped closer. "I meant what I said. About walking away. I’ll do it if that’s what you want."

She turned. "Valen..."

"But before I go," he said, voice tight, "I want you to know something."

She nodded, heart thudding.

"I loved you before the rebellion. I loved you when you were a ghost in a dossier and a voice on a broken comm. And I still love you now. Even if you can’t love me back."

The silence that followed was too long. Too thick.

She didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

Valen nodded. "That’s all I needed."

And he left.

Not with anger.

But with finality.

Later, Elara sat on the bridge alone, staring into the stars.

Aeron found her again. He always did.

He stood beside her, not touching.

"Did he say goodbye?"

She nodded slowly.

Aeron’s jaw clenched, but his voice was soft. "Then I guess I should say something too."

She turned toward him, but he wasn’t looking at her.

"I don’t know how this ends," he said. "But I know that if I die tomorrow, I want to die with your name on my lips. And if I live... I want it to be beside you."

She stared at him for a long time.

Then she said the words she’d been afraid of:

"I’m not ready."

He nodded. "Then I’ll wait."

And finally, she reached out, fingers brushing his.

Not a promise.

But something close.

The next day, the Wraith turned toward the Helix signal.

Ahead, in the vast unknown, something stirred a presence older than the Architects, older than even the Seeds.

They had won the war.

But what lay beyond the final Seed?

And what would love cost in a universe still learning how to feel?

Elara took her place at the helm.

"Set a course," she said.

Aeron and Valen flanked her silently.

Nova strapped in. "Here we go again."

Damien whispered, "And this time... we’re not the experiment."

The stars began to stretch.

And the Wraith leapt into the dark.

As the Wraith disappeared into the fold of space, Elara closed her eyes for just a moment.

Not to rest.

But to remember.

Every scar.

Every choice.

Every face she had failed to save and every one she still might.

This wasn’t the end.

It was the breath before the next storm.

And this time, she’d meet it not as a soldier.

But as herself.