Ch. 89 – I Don’t Even Have a Car

Rhys woke up with a sharp jolt, half-expecting Lira’s side of the bed to be cold and empty. Instead, she was still tightly wrapped around him, holding him softly against her chest as if she had been guarding him all night.

A sudden, overwhelming rush of warmth and safety bloomed in his chest. He instinctively curled up closer to her, burying his face in her hair. Desperate to overwrite the guilt eating away at his soul, he whispered, "I love you too, Lira... so much," hoping against hope that nothing in their world would ever change.

Lira stirred at his words, blinking sleepily as she looked up at him. A broad, radiant smile spread across her face. She leaned up, kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and giggled, "I heard that."

Rhys’s heart fluttered, a bittersweet ache tightening his throat.

They still had a few hours together before Lira had to head out for her midday shift. They lingered in bed, chatting and joking in the quiet intimacy of the morning. For a brief, fragile moment, it actually started to feel like normalcy—like the nightmare of the previous day had never happened.

And then, the intrusive poison of guilt whispered in the back of Rhys’s mind. He felt like he didn't deserve any of it, like he was the fraudulent, dirty one in this picture. Driven by some self-sabotaging impulse, Rhys opened his mouth and asked a terribly dumb question.

Chuckling nervously, he asked Lira if she had ever thought about being with someone else, or if she had ever had second thoughts about choosing him. After all, he reasoned silently to himself, he wasn't exactly the best catch in the massive, terrifying sea of superheroes back when they first got together.

The second the words left his mouth, the easy atmosphere vanished.

Rhys noticed the sudden, heavy silence and looked down at his wife. Lira was visibly flustered, her expression twisting into a look of deep, pained concern. "Why would you ever ask me something like that, Rhys?" she asked, her voice dropping.

Rhys was instantly taken aback, feeling like he had deeply offended the woman he loved over a stupid joke. But from the corner of the bedroom, the dark, looming figure of Omen materialized, looking at the interaction with a sharp, speculative glint, as if sensing something more hidden beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it was just a dumb question," Rhys stammered quickly, trying to backtrack. "I just meant... it's natural to wonder if everyone has doubts when they settle down, right?"

The dark figure in the corner casually echoed the sentiment out loud. Dammit, Rhys thought glumly, wishing he could physically strangle his own alter-ego.

Lira pushed the blankets back and sat up, looking down at her husband with a furrowed brow and a hurt expression. "I don't know why you're saying any of this, Rhys, but it could not be further from the truth," she said firmly. "I have not once looked at another man, and I have never, not for a single second, had doubts about being with you."

Rhys looked up at his wife as she finished, and looking into her earnest, honest eyes, he believed her. He truly, deeply believed her. But the incessant, toxic voice of his alter-ego in the corner was still whispering otherwise.

I’m going to need you to go away now, Rhys commanded with absolute, unyielding seriousness, locking eyes with the dark figure mentally.

To his surprise, the voice listened. The towering shadow completely dissolved into thin air. But the spot it left behind in the corner felt heavy and cold.

I've got no reason not to trust her, Rhys told himself sternly. I'm the only one here who's actually corrupt.

Reaching out, Rhys pulled Lira back down into a tight hug, forcing a laugh as he joked, "Okay, okay, I'm clearly out of my head this morning, but I'm back now. Total brain fart."

The two of them finally got out of bed and began their morning routine. After enjoying a bit more quiet space and time together, Lira started getting ready to head out for work.

Rhys, meanwhile, forced himself to focus on the upcoming launch of his catering business, which was now just a few days away. He tried hard not to resent the growing mountain of responsibilities. He actually did genuinely want to start a culinary business after all; he just desperately wished he didn't have to launch it while drowning in the fallout of a dozen secret, catastrophic affairs.

Swatting the buzzing, guilty thoughts away like persistent flies, Rhys went to find his wife in the hallway. He hugged her from behind, burying his face in her shoulder and kissing her softly. "I'm cooking dinner tonight," he promised, his voice warm. "Make it special."

Lira’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she kissed him back affectionately. "Deal! I'll make sure to fly home as fast as I can."

Just then, her communicator beeped, signaling that her shift was starting. With a bright wave, she transformed in a flash of brilliant light, soaring up into the sky toward the Apex Spire as Astrea.

Left alone, Rhys went back to work, trying to keep his mind occupied.

Sometime later that afternoon, word finally reached him regarding what had gone down at Rhea and Durin’s house the night before. According to the grapevine, Vespera had handled the situation with masterclass manipulation. She had smoothly informed a frantic Durin that Rhys had "healed" Rhea masterfully and that she would be completely fine now.

(Translation: Your neighbor thoroughly wrecked your wife, and Vespera is delighted because she knows Rhys will keep coming back for more.)

Durin, utterly gullible in his relief, ate it up with a beaming smile. But then, the dwarf had sheepishly asked why he had heard someone shouting the word Omen echoing from the master bathroom during the "procedure."

Vespera hadn't missed a single step. With a sweet, innocent smile, she had explained that things got so intense during the spiritual healing that she must have shouted it out in a desperate prayer to keep the dark omens away from his household. Durin had looked even more ignorantly pleased, thanking Vespera profusely and begging her to pass along his deepest gratitude to Rhys.

Rhys groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was really not looking forward to cashing in on that "gratitude."

To keep himself from spiraling into madness, Rhys spent the next several hours working frantically on the logistics of his grand opening. He had a venue, which had somehow been entirely purchased and gifted by Shula—a fact that still baffled him when he considered how a Djinn acquired terrestrial real estate overnight.

Then it hit him: I still need a staff.

Rhys sat down and thought long and hard about who to hire. Naturally, his mind drifted to Shula, or Vespera—especially since Vespera practically viewed herself as his silent business partner in crime.

Nope. Absolutely not. I am not dealing with either of them right now, Rhys decided, shuddering at the thought of adding professional entanglement to his already apocalyptic personal life. He needed a legitimate, completely detached business solution.

Deciding to handle the problem himself, Rhys opened his laptop and began researching corporate investment firms that offered backing for boutique culinary startups. To his absolute shock, after searching for barely an hour, he found a promising firm. Even crazier—he sent out an introductory email, and within five minutes, his phone pinged with a reply.

The firm wanted to meet with him in person. In just one hour.

Rhys stared at the screen, flabbergasted. "Oh shit, okay... they actually mean business," he muttered, scrambling to his feet.

He looked around the empty house. It was eerily, peacefully quiet. For once, he was actually happy to get away from the premises—it was the perfect excuse to escape before any of the neighborhood housewives tracking his scent could hunt him down.

Rhys rushed to pack his portfolio, neatly organizing his menus, financial projections, and professional documents into a sleek leather briefcase. He threw on a sharp, professional button-down and blazer, making sure he looked every bit the legitimate entrepreneur.

With a deep breath of relief, he marched out the front door, locked it behind him, and stepped out onto the driveway.

Right as he hit the pavement, a sudden, horrifying realization slammed into his brain.

Oh, yeah... I don't even have a car, Rhys shouted out loud at himself, staring blankly at the empty street.