Zelda's POV

I step out of the car, examining the road with wariness. There are no street signs that prohibit parking, but likewise none that allow it. Let's just hope I won't get towed. I'll just leave the engine running and turn the hazard light on, this way the car will stay warm. This should only take a few minutes anyway.

As I walk down the sidewalk, the drop in temperature catches me off guard—it's colder than I expected for this time of day. The sun hasn't even set, yet the air has turned crisp, finding its way under the collar of my chunky wool sweater.

I pull my sleeves down to cover my knuckles and make my way into Pik's building. His place is tucked between old brick storefronts and cozy hidden coffee shops. It's the kind of street that feels lived-in. To the left, there's an antique store with dusty windows and old Christmas decorations displayed on the window sill inside, and right next to it, a little underground pub where you can faintly hear laughter and live music spilling out.

It's been a while since I last came here—since I helped Pik move in, actually—and back then, the place was a maze of unopened boxes and blank walls. I had to leave early to attend Ramses' charity auction, so I never saw the place finished.

After climbing a bunch of stairs, I arrive on the fourth floor. With a sting in my thighs, I take a quick moment to rest in front of apartment #49, collecting my breath. Maybe I should start joining Impa in the gym. I'm 19—I should not be out of breath after walking 4 sets of stairs.

I hear a scuffle of paws and the jingle of a collar from the other side. The door swings open, and before I can put one and one together, a dog trots up to me. It looks like a mixed breed of a golden retriever and something slightly smaller. Its back and forehead are black, its cheeks and knees a warm brown, and the rest white. It sniffs my leg, tail wagging eagerly as I blink in surprise and look up at Pik.

"Wait... you have a dog?" I ask, still processing the sight of the energetic, tricolor pup in front of me.

"What dog? Don't you recognize Mía?"

I chuckle. "She's a bit... hairier than I remember."

It gets a soft laugh out of Pik. "This is Navi. She's my guide dog."

I reach down and shake the dog's paw. "Nice to meet you, Navi."

She returns an energetic bark.

"Come in, come in." Pik takes a step back, making room for me to enter. With a smile, I give him a quick hug and close the door behind me.

His place feels different from when I last saw it. There's life here now—more than just cardboard boxes. Some of Pik's paintings fill the empty spaces on the red brick walls, and a black acoustic guitar leans casually against the corner next to the bookshelf. I spot a keyboard, concertina, and some potted plants as well. As he closes the door behind me, I walk up to the shelf to admire his book collections. His books are neither sorted by author last names, nor by color or genre. There is no organization whatsoever. The same goes for the vinyls stacked next to his vintage turntable. The lack of order is understandable, given his blindness. But it somehow adds charm to the place.

A large dog bed and toys of all shapes and sizes are spread out near the bookshelf.

"You want something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"

I shake my head. "I'm good. Thanks."

My eyes linger on Pik's bed—which is really just a mattress on the floor—wondering if he shares it with Malice. Despite it not even being a real bed, it looks incredibly cozy. Nestled in a corner between the brick wall and open window, it's covered in a thick, ashy plush comforter and a mix of soft pillows and cream-colored fleece blankets.

The natural light filtering through the window casts a warm glow over the fluffy bedding, making it the perfect spot to curl up with a book.

Navi bumps my leg as I try to follow Pik toward the small leather couch. Her sleek coat gleams in the golden rays of dwindling sunlight.

I kneel to give her a quick pat on the head, her fur soft and warm. "She's so cute!"

"Are we talking about Navi or Mía?" Pik asks.

"Navi," I laugh.

"Yeah, she's been a huge help."

"But speaking of..." I take another look around the living space. "Where is Mal— I mean Mía?"

Pik hesitates, his gaze drifting toward the open window. "She's out on the fire escape."

I can sense tension in Pik's voice, something unspoken. I wonder if it has anything to do with what Impa told me the other day; how she caught Malice and Pik sharing a bed at the lodge. I was too distracted by the news about my father to notice any changes between Malice and Pik. I don't even remember if they were in the same car as me when we left Mammoth Lakes. I was sitting on the passenger seat writing a eulogy, Link was driving my car down the winding roads.

It's odd to think that while I thought Malice hated Pik, she secretly got back together with him. Or maybe she didn't. I don't want to make any assumptions. It's possible that they just comforted each other as friends, not wanting to be alone on Thanksgiving.

"Why is she outside?" I ask Pik.

He shrugs, but something about his body language tells me that he's not as clueless as he leads on.

"Mía says she's scared of Navi, but I think she's lying. I noticed that on some days, when I'd come home from work, the water bowl was refilled, and I'd often trip over toys that I had previously stored in places out of reach for Navi. So I think Mía sometimes plays with Navi while I'm gone."

"Then why would she claim to be afraid?"

"To have an excuse to avoid me," Pik says ruefully. "I offered to have Navi stay at a friend's house for the time being, but she said no. However, I figured out that when I'm asleep, she climbs back inside. I started going to bed really early so Mía doesn't stay out in the cold at night. Once I'm asleep, her fear of dogs magically disappears and she comes to bed."

So they have been sharing the bed. How can you sleep comfortably next to someone you are trying to avoid?

I have to ask.

"Have you guys talked at all about the past?"

"No. She hasn't really talked to me at all."

Hm... I wonder what's going on with Malice. It seems that ever since Mammoth Lakes, Malice has been even more distant than before. But why? What happened? During our hike, everything seemed fine; she was finally opening up to me, she was laughing and pranking Link with me. She seemed happy...

Could it be that Pik, and whatever it is that Impa saw on Thanksgiving night, have caused her isolation?

Or perhaps her silence has to do with the news of my father passing away. It definitely affected the others. Mipha was heartbroken and shedding tears as if it had been her own father passing. Revali hid his shock by pretending it was Mipha he was saddened by. Pik made a long phone call to his parents in which he finally told them about his blindness. Impa was determined to cheer me up in every way possible. Kiroh remained quiet in a state of shock. And Link... Link was so sweet and so lost at the same time. I was his priority—he worried with all of his heart.

With that in mind, it's not hard to imagine Malice being affected as well, even if she's not as close to me as the others. It must have been a confusing time for her. I can't blame her for seeking out distance. I guess I'm just surprised that, after spending the night with Pik at the lodge, she would distance herself even from him. When Impa told me what she saw on Thanksgiving, I was hoping that Pik and Malice could be each other's gate to support.

Pik sighs, a pained and resigned sound. "I tried talking to her a couple of times, but her mind is in a different place. She won't let me in..."

I glance toward the window, making sure that Malice isn't listening to our conversation. "Do you..." I lower my voice to a whisper, "do you think that perhaps she relapsed?"

"No, that's not it. She's been clean. She's just..."

Pik doesn't say more. He seems hesitant, and while part of me knows better than to pry, I can't help but be a little curious.

"Did something happen between you two?" I ask and watch as his face gives away the slightest reaction. "Recently?" I add.

He turns his head toward the open window and takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure. I thought that maybe something did happen... but..."

I nod, feeling guilty for asking. "You don't have to tell me."

"Sorry, I don't want to betray her trust by sharing anything she may consider private. But I also don't want to lie to you by omission."

"It's alright," I say, trying to sound optimistic. "I understand, and I won't ask questions. But I should at least make sure that Malice is okay, and that she is still comfortable moving in with me. After all, the goal is to offer her a home, not to keep her hostage. She knows I'm picking her up, right?"

Pik nods. "I told her you were coming today."

I walk up to the window and peek my head out. "Malice?"

She's sitting on the fire escape in a black hoodie, which I assume is Pik's, not only because she doesn't have any clothes of her own, but because it's merch from one of his favorite bands: the Eagles. It has their blue album cover on the front and a list of songs on the back.

It's way too big on her small frame. The sleeves are flopping over her hands as if she didn't have any, and her skinny legs are halfway swallowed by the hoodie's thick fabric. Her face is hidden behind the hood, so I'm not sure if she heard me.

"Hey," I speak softly. "Are you ready to head out?"

She turns around, barely enough to show her eyes behind the hood. Dark shadows trace her features, making her look utterly exhausted as if she hasn't slept in weeks.

She nods. She gets up. She climbs through the window, back into the loft.

While she walks past us toward the door, head lowered to avoid eye contact, I look back at Pik, who's still standing by the bookshelf, arms crossed, shoulders tense. 

She heads for the door, opens and exits. No disobedience, no insults. Like a ghost, she entered and left, never having said a word. This is not the same person I hiked with last month, the one I pranked Link with. But it's also not the same person that bullied me during my first year at HU. And that worries me. Who is she, and what happened?

Once she is out of sight and out of earshot, I walk up to Pik and ask if she's okay.

He meets me with another shrug. "She's been like that ever since we left the lodge."

"She hasn't said why?"

"Like I said, she hasn't really talked to me at all... I think that maybe I..." He lets out an unsteady breath. "I don't know, maybe I messed up—maybe I did something wrong..."

With a heavy heart, I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "You did nothing wrong, I'm sure. You looked after her, Pik, and even if she hasn't shown it, she knows how much you care. She's grateful for you, trust me."

He still looks concerned and guilty, but he nods and thanks me.

I let go of his hand, and smile. "Try not to worry too much, okay? I'll take care of her for now. I really appreciate everything you've done for her over the past four weeks."

"Oh, before you leave..." He walks over to the kitchen and returns with a small gift bag. It's red, white, and green, with "Merry Christmas," written in cursive gold. "This is for you guys."

"Pik—"

"It's nothing extravagant," he says, his smile slowly returning. "Not sure which wrapping paper I used—I had the lady in the store pick for me. Hope it's a good one. Anyways, the bigger one is yours, and the flat book-sized one is for her. Do you think you could give it to her for Christmas tomorrow morning? Or whenever feels right."

I take the gift bag from him, my eyes wide with surprise. "Why don't you spend Christmas with us at the townhouse? You could give this to her yourself."

"That's really kind of you. But I think I'll pass this time."

"Are you sure?" I encourage.

"Yea, I'm actually planning to go home for Christmas."

"To your parents?" I ask astonished.

"Yep... I've been avoiding them for far too long. It's time I come clean about everything..."

"I thought you called them a few weeks ago and told them about your blindness."

"I did," he says, "but that was such a huge revelation—I didn't want to overwhelm them with too much at once. There are still things I haven't shared, like transferring from Juilliard to HU, getting my masters in music, and becoming a professor. Or the fact that Mía and I didn't work out... That one will bum them out the most."

I frown at his last statement. It's clear that whatever happened between Malice and him at the lodge didn't carry over when we returned, and judging by Pik's expression, he's not exactly thrilled about it.

"Things will turn out okay," I say, embracing him in a heartfelt hug. "And if you change your mind about Christmas, or if anything goes wrong... You're always welcome at the townhome."

"Thanks, Zelda." He leans his chin on my shoulder, arms wrapped around my back. "Truly."

"That's what friends are for. By the way, are you going anywhere for winter break? I might stop by one of these days to bring back your clothes."

He loosens our hug, managing a smile. "She can keep them."

Before I leave, I give Navi another quick pet and promise Pik that I'll take good care of Malice. Then I head down the stairs, hoping my car hasn't been towed.

I half expected Malice to be gone, but there she is, sitting on the passenger seat, warming her hands in front of the AC. She still has the black hood up, making her look like she's trying to carjack my Range Rover.

I get into my car with a feeling of dread. This forty-minute drive will feel incredibly long if Malice continues to hide away.

"Seatbelt, please," I say, and without complaints, she follows my orders.

I place the gift bag on the backseat, turn off the hazard lights, and shift the gears into drive. Off we go to a new start. One where Malice can (hopefully) be herself, free of fear and restraints.

The drive is silent, despite the soft hum of the radio and the sharp sound of wind rushing past us. I glance over at Malice every so often to check on her, even ask if she wants her seat heated, or the window down, or if she'd like a drink from Starbucks, or takeout from elsewhere. The answer is always the same, which is none at all. Her head remains leaned against the class, showing no reaction to my words. I wonder if she can hear me at all, or if my voice is drowning in louder thoughts.

By the time we reach the townhome, I've become accustomed to her silence, asking questions more out of courtesy than with the expectation of answers. It's like talking to a pet—you don't expect it to answer but you sort of imagine it understanding you.

I park next to Link's bike and kill the ignition.

"We're here," I say and get out first.

I grab the gifts from the backseat while Malice climbs out after me, face still hidden, hands buried deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

We both stand side by side for a moment, staring up at the slim three-story beach house. Its soft white and sandy beige exterior contrasts the gray sky in the background. Wide balconies stretch out from each floor, their old wooden railings adorned with Christmas lights that shiver slightly in the Pacific wind.

Through the large windows, warm light spills out into the cold evening air. From inside, we can hear voices, laughter, and the jazzy tunes of an old Christmas song.

As we approach the front door, with its chipped blue paint and classic brown doormat, the scent of salt and damp earth mingles with that of something freshly baked.

Malice and I step onto the front porch. A thin layer of sand covers the white, creaking wood, and a large sun-bleached surfboard rests against the wall between door and window. I bring my key up to the lock, but before I can insert it, the door swings open and we are greeted by Link in a Christmas hat, smiling.

"Welcome home!"

My stomach flutters with foreign emotions as his warm expression welcomes us in. I receive a kiss and a hug, another kiss, and then a Christmas hat of my own.

These past couple of weeks, I've been so busy with presidential duties at the university that I haven't even been at the townhome yet. Having lost most of my possessions in the fire, I didn't have any boxes to move, so this is my first time stepping foot into my new home.

Instead of taking a look around, I am drawn in by Link, unable to take my eyes off of him. Partially because I am nervous to face the reality of my new life, but more so because of the way the warm light streams in from behind him, framing his face in a halo of soft, golden strands. His tousled blond hair peeks out from underneath his fluffy Christmas hat, glowing like that of an earth-bound angel. He stands in the doorway, dressed in a snug, dark green—almost gray—knitted sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"I'm making cookies," he says, holding up a large, flat wooden ladle coated in chocolate chip cookie dough. His blue eyes sparkle with joy. He clearly wants me to try some of the dough, but I go for a third kiss instead, my nose brushing over his flour-stained cheek.

"You guys are disgusting," Revali's voice cuts through.

Link and I separate and turn to look at Revali. Arms crossed, he's leaning against the archway of the living room entrance. It's my first glance into the townhome. The oversized Christmas tree instantly catches my eyes.

It sits proudly in the corner of the large living room, between the fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows. Its branches are adorned with twinkling lights and a medley of colorful ornaments. I thought I was going to move into an empty, cold house, but that's not the case at all. Though many boxes are still unpacked, plenty of items have been placed around the house to make it look a little more inhibited.

The living room alone is already cozier than the house I grew up in, with its light oatmeal-colored hardwood floor, ivory walls and natural wooden beams, oversized ocean-colored rug, and white L-shaped sofa. Blue and beige cushions, and teal knitted blankets. Both the coffee table and empty bookshelf are walnut-colored, filling in the space between sofa and tree.
The short wall that connects the kitchen and the hallway is painted in choppy waves of blue and turquoise and light shades of brown, with three surfboards mounted horizontally.

Down the hall, just past the tree, I can see parts of the kitchen counter. All wooden and old. Nothing like the Ebony wood I grew up with, durable and shiny dark. This wood is chipped and weather-worn. Old in a sense of seasons, not like the Victorian architecture my childhood home posed in. This house right here has experienced the roughness and care of many generations, rather than just one. And it shows in every dent, every scratch, every coat of paint and misplaced nail. It has character in a very authentic and sincere way. It's not trying to be something else. It just wants to be a home.

I stiffen, feeling the rising of goosebumps on the back of my neck.

"Come in," Link's voice echoes through my haze of thoughts. When I return my eyes to him, I realize that it is not me he is talking to, but Malice. She is still standing on the porch, clutching her arms tightly, her face barely visible in the shadows of her hood.

"Let me show you the rest," Link says, inviting her in with a wave of the hand.

He is in an incredible mood, one that contrasts Malice's in every way. It seems to overwhelm her, but she decided to step in anyway.

Link and I exchange a quick look. I try to signal with my eyes that he needs to go easy on her. He gives me an understanding nod and closes the door behind Malice.

"Your room is on the second floor. Let's take a look, okay?"

Revali moves aside so we can pass through the narrow hallway. The stairs are right around the corner, creaking with every step. They overlook the open living room space, where I spot Mipha, her petite frame nothing but a silhouette against the glittering ocean and setting sun behind her. She is sitting on the rug, a large mess of entangled Christmas lights in her dainty hands.

Malice and I follow Link upstairs. I'm already picturing framed photographs hanging on the walls. Photographs of us, all of us; at happy times. Big, real smiles. A moment of laughter that almost replays the sound when looking back at the picture.

The second floor has a small common area and three doors.

"This is the bathroom." Link flicks on the light and steps into the small room. Malice and I watch from the hallway as he demonstrates the essentials: a shower, a sink, a mirror, a toilet, a small vertical window, and a working lock.

"You'll have to share it with Revali and Mipha, I hope that's okay," I say to her.

"At least you'll have your own room," Link smiles. He shuffles out of the bathroom and guides us to the second door. "This is Mipha's and Revali's room." He opens the door, turns the light on for just a few seconds, and then closes the door again.

Their room is half the size of the living room, and apart from a bunch of boxes, a bed, a bow, some plants, and more boxes, there wasn't much to look at.

The next room is smaller, but it has its own balcony.

"This is yours," Link says to Malice.

The room is mostly empty. Four blank walls, a small open closet, and a long window that faces the neighbors' house. The view isn't fabulous, but at least she has her own balcony, and a young fan palm tree offers some privacy from anyone who tries to look inside. Its leaves make the dwindling sunlight dance against the white walls, painting them in abstract orange patterns.

The only piece of "furniture" is a simple, small twin sized mattress on the floor. It looks used, but in good condition. Someone placed a large pillow and flowery folded bedding at its headspace.

"It's not much," Link says. "But hopefully it'll do until the bed frame comes in. Shipping is slow this time of year... Amazon says it'll arrive sometime between December 28th and January 3rd."

Malice doesn't react much. She stands in the doorframe, her feet an inch away from touching the carpet of her new room. She seems frozen to the spot, unwilling to cross over the doorstep.

Link and I are standing behind her, patient.

I squeeze his hand and smile at him, silently letting him know how proud and thankful I am. While I was focused on work, he was focused on making this move as smooth as possible. I can't believe he organized a bed for a person he doesn't much fancy.

"Thank you," I mouth to him, staring for a moment into the rich blues of his eyes.

He rubs my back and nods, as if to say "Of course." Then he looks back at Malice, who has found the courage to step into her room.

"Come on," he says to me, nodding his chin toward the stairs. "Let me show you our room while Malice gets settled in."

I think what he's really trying to say is that we should give Malice a moment to adjust. He's so thoughtful.

Without much hesitation, I lace my fingers with Link's and follow him toward the stairs. Looking over my shoulder, I watch as Malice traces her fingers along the worn window sill. She twists the doorknob and pushes the door to the balcony open, just enough to allow the cool evening air to drift in through a small opening.

The sight of her disappears behind the wall of the staircase as Link and I step into the master bedroom on the third floor.

The first thing that strikes me is how peaceful it feels. The room is spacious, taking up the entire top floor with high ceilings that make it feel even more open. Soft, off-white walls reflect the faint glow of the dimmed pendant lights hanging from above. One wall has large windows and a balcony that oversees the backyard, beach, and ocean. The sun is waving goodnight through the gray clouds on the horizon.

There is no furniture in this room either, but a tall queen-size air mattress that—with all its fluffy bedding—looks just like a real bed.

There is also a small wooden crate serving as a makeshift nightstand. On top: some of Link's textbooks and his phone charger, tangled in a familiar mess. A few of his clothes are scattered on the floor next to the walk-in closet, the rest seem to be packed away in duffel bags. His snowboard is leaning against the wall next to the window, the only real sign of personality in the otherwise sparse room.

There are no curtains yet, just the large window overlooking the darkening sky, with the faint sound of waves breaking at shore. The air smells faintly of sandalwood.

He shows me the bathroom. It's small but clearly the nicest one in the house, with white tiles lining the floor. A crowded bathtub sits beneath the window, and I'm already picturing us taking long romantic baths after exhausting days.

Double vanity, and a pair of round mirrors, framed in matte black. Link's toothbrush and a few of his toiletries clutter one side, while the other remains bare, waiting for me to fill it.

It's far from what I'm used to. The bathroom in my father's house was sprawling—gleaming countertops, a rainfall shower, and a soaking tub that could fit four people comfortably. Everything there was polished—no toothpaste splatters on the mirror, no dust, and not a single strand of hair on the marble floor. Here, it's simpler. It's modest... Lived-in.

It feels real.

It's not perfection in the glossy, untouchable sense—but it's perfect for the life we're building now. And maybe that's exactly what I need.

We walk back into the bedroom. The space feels temporary, a work in progress, but knowing Link, I can tell he's trying to make it feel like home. He looks at me, gauging my reaction, clearly hoping it doesn't feel as empty as it looks.

He leans closer, cupping my face with both hands. "We're going to make this special, I promise."

I have to force myself not to tear up.

"And by we, I mean all of us. Ravioli, Mipha, Impa... and the others..." His lips lift slightly into a loving smile. "We're all here for you."

All the worries from the past weeks fade away, and I'm left only with the warmth of his presence.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"I know it's probably all very overwhelming, but..." He takes my hand and places it flat on his chest, right above his heart. "This feels right."

"It is."

He leans in. "Is there anything else you need or want right now?"

"There is one thing, actually," I say, my eyes hinting at the air mattress in the corner. "But only if you're okay with it."

He follows my eyes to the bed and smiles. "What is it?"

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Guysss!! We hit 500K reads on Never Without You! 😳 How should we celebrate? (Don't ask for extra chapters haha I literally don't have any because I've been studying for finals for the past month ._.)

Also, I feel like I should draw Pik. In the last book, he took out his piercings and stopped dying his hair, but we don't have any art of it 👀 What do we think? All-natural Pik & Navi art soon?

Thank you so much for all the continuous support on this series! Never thought it'd become this big :) Half a mil is crazy—still can't wrap my head around it. Special thanks to everyone who comments and votes on each chapter! I notice you ☺️