Amachi and Stacia were never a thing. They never explored the possibility. Stacia left for the Thmei Academy rather than deal with whatever feelings bubbled beneath their friendship. The fact that she once confided those feelings to Yahya meant little. He always felt like he competed against the duppy of Amachi. Always coming in second. At least that was how he always claimed to feel whenever they got into an argument. He clung too tightly. Not possessive, not needy, but he walked a tightrope that veered between the two. Yahya had a version of Stacia—what their marriage should be—locked in his head to which she could never measure up. All they had left was the fighting, and most days, they had lost sight of what they were fighting for.

A few months ago, the elders within the Titan community recognized that their relationship had turned toxic, becoming destructive to each other. They had encouraged separation in order for each of them to heal and develop into positive forces in each other’s lives. Things weren’t going well.

“Since you didn’t barge in here out of concern for my feelings, why are you here?” Stacia asked.

“It’s Bekele.”

At the mention of their son, Stacia’s voice rose with alarm. “Have there been any changes? Why didn’t you—”

Yahya raised his hands, gesturing for her to slow down. He patted the seat next to him. “No, no. Nothing like that. I wanted to talk about the next steps.”

“What … next steps?” Sitting down warily, Stacia remained alert for another of his traps waiting to spring.

“He’s steady for now. His condition remains unchanged.”

“Do you think his disease has gone into remission?”

“I think it just hasn’t worsened.” Yahya lowered his head and bridged his fingers, refusing to meet her gaze. This move usually preceded words sure to be foolishness that he knew he couldn’t defend but felt obligated to try. In a hoarse rasp, he whispered, “I have a theory.”

“Yahya…” Stacia’s tone dripped with pity for him. She wanted to hope also, but she’d watched the burden of their son’s illness tear her estranged spouse to shreds. Each new round of empty tests reduced him even more. The man she remembered—the one she knew—loved his son in a powerful way; would move heaven and earth to protect him. She recalled the first time she saw Yahya cradling Bek in his massive arms. That image of him she would marry a thousand times over.

The Yahya beside her was a desperate shell. Finding ever more obscure possible causes for Bek’s condition. Hoping that once their scientists had an origin point, he could then come up with a course of action. Stop being powerless. This image of him was too difficult to look at.