THE DINNER with the Mikaelsons had been a whirlwind of emotions for Harper. At first, it was suffocating—the weight of being under the scrutinizing gazes of such a powerful and enigmatic family made her feel like she was balancing on a tightrope. But as the evening progressed, something shifted. The atmosphere became lighter and warmer, and Harper found herself gradually relaxing, though she couldn't deny that Elijah had a significant role in that change.

There was a gravity to Elijah that Harper couldn't quite place—a calmness that made her feel safe, even amidst the grandeur and occasional tension of the Mikaelson household. His every word seemed measured, his attention fully focused whenever she spoke, and it was both unnerving and oddly comforting. Harper couldn't remember the last time someone had truly listened to her like that.

For Elijah, the experience was equally surprising. He had lived for centuries, seen the rise and fall of empires, and yet, there was something about Harper that tugged at the edges of his existence. It wasn't just her humanity—it was her essence, the way her laughter softened the room, or the faint shadow of sadness that lingered in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. He found himself drawn to her in a way that defied explanation, as though her very soul resonated with his.

By the end of the evening, Freya had indulged a little too much in the wine, leaving her unfit to drive. Elijah, ever the gentleman, stepped forward without hesitation, offering to ensure both his sister and Harper made it home safely.

Harper chuckled as they walked to the car, Freya leaning against her for support. "Dinner was incredible. Freya wasn't kidding about it being a meal fit for a king. Honestly, I don't think I've ever eaten that well in my entire life."

Elijah smiled softly as he helped Freya into the backseat. "Niklaus does have a flair for the dramatic, but if I may be honest, that was a rather subdued evening by his standards. You should see him on a truly inspired day."

Harper laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I'm not sure whether I should be intrigued or terrified by that idea. Though, I have to say, his wife Keira is amazing. She has this presence about her—it's really inspiring."

Elijah's expression softened as he nodded. "She is an extraordinary woman," he said, his tone quiet, almost reflective. Harper noticed the shift in his demeanour and felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify—jealousy, perhaps, or a longing she didn't want to acknowledge.

Eager to steer the conversation away from what felt like an intimate corner of Elijah's heart, Harper offered him a small smile. "Your family is... incredible. I mean, intimidating, sure, but I really did have an amazing time tonight. Especially hearing all those wild stories from your siblings."

Elijah's gaze returned to her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes for her thoughtful redirection. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. And for what it's worth, I think my family appreciated your presence as well. You have a way of fitting in, even in the most unlikely of places."

Harper laughed nervously, her cheeks tinged with colour. "You think so? Honestly, I felt like I was awkward the whole time. But everyone was so welcoming—especially Freya, Kol, and... well, you." She glanced up at him, her smile genuine.

"Kol?" Elijah raised an eyebrow, a trace of curiosity in his voice. "He isn't always known for his charm."

Harper chuckled, remembering the dinner she had shared with Kol and Freya not long ago. "Oh, I made dinner for him and Freya the day I met you. It was a whole thing, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to."

"Ah," was all Elijah said, though an inexplicable twinge of unease settled in his chest at the mention of Kol's name.

The conversation lulled for a moment, the hum of the car filling the silence. Harper turned to the window, her thoughts drifting. "You know," she began softly, "coming to New Orleans was such a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn't expect anything, really. But in such a short time, I've experienced so much—more than I ever thought I would."

She hesitated, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Especially since I don't have much time anyway."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted it. She didn't know that Elijah's sharp hearing caught every word, though he remained outwardly composed.

"Then we must ensure you experience even more," Elijah said, his voice steady yet imbued with a kindness that seemed to wrap around her like a warm embrace. His dark eyes, full of a quiet intensity, held hers for a moment longer than expected, as though silently promising that he meant every word.

Harper felt a wave of emotion swell within her—gratitude, vulnerability, and something unfamiliar but undeniably comforting. Her chest tightened, not with fear or sorrow but with a flicker of hope she hadn't allowed herself to feel in far too long.

"Thank you, Elijah," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything she couldn't put into words. "Truly." Her lips curved into a small, hesitant smile, one that was both shy and sincere. It wasn't just polite gratitude; it was the genuine expression of someone who, for the first time in a long time, felt seen and valued.

Elijah nodded, his gaze unwavering. "You are most welcome, Harper," he said, his tone as gentle as the night air around them.

As the car continued down the quiet streets of New Orleans, the city lights casting fleeting shadows through the windows, Harper found herself stealing glances at him. She couldn't help but wonder what it was about this man—this centuries-old being—who had managed to break through the walls she had so carefully built around her heart.

She didn't fully understand why, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty: in that moment, with Elijah by her side, she felt a little less alone in the world. The heavy solitude that had clung to her like a second skin for so many years seemed to loosen its grip, replaced by a fragile yet undeniable sense of belonging.

For someone who had spent so much of her life burdened by secrets and isolation, that feeling was nothing short of transformative. It wasn't just the comfort of his presence; it was the way Elijah made her feel seen—not as a fragile person with a ticking clock above her head, but as someone who still had a story worth telling, a life worth living.

Harper glanced out the car window, the glow of the New Orleans streetlights painting golden streaks across her face. Her thoughts swirled with memories of the dinner, the unexpected warmth of the Mikaelsons, and the way Elijah's quiet strength had steadied her nerves. She had always believed she was alone in her struggles, but tonight had offered a glimpse of something different—an understanding, a connection she hadn't realized she yearned for so deeply.

She turned her gaze back to him, watching as he navigated the winding streets with an effortless composure. His features, sharp and timeless, softened under the dim light. There was something about Elijah, something more than his politeness or the way he carried himself with an air of unshakable dignity. It was the way he listened, the way he noticed the unspoken weight she carried and the way his words seemed to reach places in her heart she'd long thought untouchable.

For the first time in years, Harper felt the faint stirrings of hope—not the blind, desperate kind, but a quiet, steady hope born from the realization that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to carry her burdens alone anymore. With Elijah's presence beside her, it was as if the world had cracked open just enough to let a sliver of light through, illuminating possibilities she hadn't dared to imagine.

And for the girl who had spent so long walking in shadows, that sliver of light was everything.