It was odd to watch the world go on despite my ongoing turmoil. But with every day that passed, things became slightly more manageable. My worries about the exhibit still lingered to some extent, but I found enough interesting pieces to compensate for the Westergaard collection. I would make something work, and that was a relief.

Ulrik still texted me a couple of times a day, and my lack of answers didn't deter him from doing so. There was no doubt in my mind that he was apologetic about the way things had evolved, but I couldn't look past the manipulation and lies. Even when I did, even when I understood why he'd done it, I couldn't forgive the deception.

I would have thought him mad if he'd told me about it early on. What person in their right mind would claim to be the immortal son of Odin? I would have run in the other direction without looking back.

But there was a moment between us being acquaintances and us becoming an item when the topic should have been brought up. And that moment had probably been at that Italian restaurant, where he'd revealed so much about himself—but not enough. How could he have promised as much as he had and thought that his godly condition wasn't an important factor to bring up? It made me wonder when exactly he would have found it in him to come forward with it. After we'd moved in together? After a wedding? Once we had children together?

Not that he actually wanted children anyway. I understood that as well, and why he refused to father another child. I'd seen him with Agnes, and the care and tenderness he had for her made all the sense in the world. The natural order of life was for a parent to die before their child, but he'd outlived every single one of his descendants. Again, this immortality of his was more of a curse than a blessing. What a lonely life...

Over a week went by since my return, And as Friday rolled in, I was ready for a stronger kind of distraction. Work and Gigi were good, but not enough. I still felt as though I'd left a chunk of my heart back in Norway, and I needed booze and music to forget about it.

Thankfully, my roommate had the perfect thing for me. "Is Henry joining us?" she asked from her room as we were getting ready.

"Yeah, he said he's stop by with his fiancée. And Ian's having a date night with his wife, and they might come after the restaurant."

"Ah, that's brilliant. Vick will have so much success that they'll have to hire them."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me, smoothing the black dress over my hips.

A movement to my left caught my eye, and I looked to the door to find Gi leaning on the frame. She'd gone to the hairdresser earlier today, and the previously fading color of her hair was now vividly pink. "Can you believe it, though?" she asked with a dreamy smile. "I never thought I'd find myself someone so bloody perfect."

My smile didn't quite reach my eyes, so I looked away to grab my mascara. Vick had quit their job at the club to find something closer to Gi's schedule. They'd found a position in a trendy bar downtown, which was right by the metro line that had a stop near us. Tonight was their first night, and we were coming to show our support.

The lack of response didn't fool Gigi, who came in to sit on the bed while I added another coat of mascara to my lashes. "Have you still not texted him?" she softly wondered.

I met her eyes in the mirror before shaking my head. "I told you I was done with him."

She sighed. "Did he text you again today?"

"This morning."

"I know you're still hurting, love, but you'll have to tell me what happened exactly. Everything was going so well, and them...nothing."

"Turns out we weren't compatible. That's all."

"That's what I don't get, Mimi. You two were beyond compatible; you were flammable. Did you lie when you said he didn't hurt you? If that's what happened, I'll get it and stop asking, babe."

I gave myself a moment to reply as I returned the mascara to its drawer. Again, I wouldn't take the easy road and tarnish his image for my comfort. I wasn't a coward like that. "I'm not ready for the kind of relationship he expected," I decided to say before applying a precise layer of red lipstick.

"What did he want?"

The sadness in my eyes when I met my reflection was undeniable. "Everything. He offered himself up to me—all of him. And I thought I was fine with it, but... it's too much. I don't want that much responsibility."

"Is it your fucked up family history talking?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Now, unless you're trying to make me feel depressed before we join Vick, we should talk about something else."

She rolled her eyes in a discontented way. "I know there's more to this, Mila. I'll give you some space, but one day, you'll have to tell me the truth about what happened."

I kept my eyes on her as she made her way out of my room, ignoring the twinge of guilt in my chest. Her concern was understandable and commendable, but I didn't need to open up about Ulrik. All I needed was time to process everything and forget him. Then I'd be alright.

I was wrapped in a long and warm wool coat when we entered the lounge bar after a quick ride in the subway. The place obviously catered to the rich, and for a moment, I worried about the dent this would put in my savings. But we were here to show support to Vick, so it would be worth it. And really, we could do a couple of drinks here and then move on to a good old Irish pub to get plastered.

Funnily enough, I blended well with the clientele and didn't look too out of place. Gigi, though, with her bright pink hair and neon blue jacket. The powder pink dress underneath wasn't the most suited either, but it fit her like a glove, and she looked stunning in it.

A man posted by the entrance accompanied us to an available booth, and he took the coats from us before leaving. Vick had noticed us from the bar, and Gigi gave them an energetic wave, which prompted them to smile.

"This place looks amazing," I said as we sat down.

"Vick told me it was boujee as hell. Next time, we'll have a few drinks at home before heading here," she offered, having had the same thoughts as me. "No way I spend more than twenty quids on drinks every time."

"And this doesn't strike me as the kind of place where sleeping with the bartender gets you free drinks."

"Right? Maybe I'll tell Vick to get a job at the pub down the streets from ours," she replied with humor.

I remained seated while she went over to the bar to greet Vick. While the two of them spoke, I mindlessly took my phone out and opened my messages. This was like a litany that returned a hundred times a day at least, where I read the messages Ulrik relentlessly sent me. The last one broke my heart a little further. I understand your reluctance, and your anger is justified. All I ask is that you hear me out, love. I think we deserve at least that, don't you?

We did, didn't we? But if I agreed to meet him so we could have a talk, I'd relapse instantly. He haunted my dreams as it was, with tender and lustful moments, with the sound of his voice, the raspy tunes of his laugh... Meeting him would overcome my resolve, and I couldn't afford that. He's always been great at winning me back, and I wouldn't let him do that once more.

There was no way I'd never cross Ulrik's path again. It was a miracle I'd never met him before, as we both attended galas hosted by the museum and shared a deep interest in Viking history. I was bound to see him again, and God knew how I'd react to that. The magnetic pull that had only grown stronger between us was still there—I could feel it even with the North Sea between us.

But I stood a chance if weeks, months, or years went by until that happened. Maybe I'd move on, grow out of love with him, meet someone new... Meeting him soon, though, was out of the question.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Gigi asked, returning with two cocktails."

"Nothing," I lied, locking my phone's screen and putting it away.

"There, I asked Vick for something bitter for you," she explained, setting a tall and slim glass in front of me. "And not because you like it, but to match your mood."

"Bitch."

"Twat."

We drank in silence for a moment, letting the soft music of the trendy bar fill the space. Then, I asked Gigi about the Christmas menu she was coming up with for her restaurant, and she launched herself into an eager monologue where she gave me the finer details of it. We'd just reached the third course when Henry and his fiancée arrived. From there, the conversation flowed effortlessly, and my mind floated away from the Viking who'd been occupying all of it lately.

It was my turn to get us a round of drinks when my phone buzzed in my bag. I fished it out on my way to the bar, and when I read the contact name on it, I froze. Yuko was calling me.

She hadn't contacted me after her initial text, so a wave of anguish washed over me as the phone rang in my trembling hand. Why would she call me at this hour? Had something happened? My throat was tight with worry, and I changed my trajectory to head toward the exit instead. The bar was too crowded and loud, so I needed to take it outside. Before the call could go to voicemail, I picked up and brought the phone to my ear.

"Is everything alright, Yuko?" I asked as I passed the door.

The cool air of the evening enveloped me, goosebumps forming on my bare arms. But the shiver that ran up my back moments later wasn't caused by the cold but rather by the deep voice that answered my question.

"What is this, Mila?" Ulrik... He'd tricked me by calling me with her phone.

I'd missed his voice more than I was willing to admit, and despite the barely contained annoyance I could hear in it, I was already eager to hear more of his baritone pitch.

"Why did you send me the sword?" he insisted when I didn't answer.

"Be—because it's yours."

"We had a deal. I'll get it back in January, and I'll send you the pieces you need in exchange."

"I won't need your pieces. I'd rather we...stop all contact from now on."

There was a long break, during which I considered hanging up. But the appeal of hearing more of his voice, even just a few fleeting words, was enough to fight the urge.

"I can't accept that, love," he said softly. "I meant everything I said, you know? The only thing I lied about was my origins, but everything else... It was true. I crave a future with you."

My emotions were running so strong that I could barely feel the cold anymore, obnubilated by his heartfelt plea. "What kind of future would that be, Ulrik? I would age, but you wouldn't. It can't—it can't work."

"Of course it can. I have evolved past things as trivial as physical appearance, Mila. I wouldn't care."

"You're not even human, Ulrik," I said into the phone. A couple that passed by me to enter the bar sent me a confused side glance, so I brought my hand between the phone and my lips.

" is. Isn't it enough?" he murmured into the phone.

"It's the other half I'm worried about. I don't think I can be enough for it. I don't think I could handle it."

"You could. I know you could. And you're beyond enough, kjære."

"Ulrik, please..." I nearly begged, on the verge of tears. "Whatever this was, it's over. I don't think I could trust you again after everything I went through. So please, stop trying to contact me. I can't— It hurts too much."

"Mila, wai—"

I didn't let him finish his sentence, hanging up with a push of my shaky thumb. Still standing in the street in my flimsy dress, I ignored the cold and proceeded to block both his number and Yuko's. For my own sanity, I couldn't keep doing this.

When a tear rolled down my cheek, I carefully wiped it away, minding my makeup. I stood there for a moment, trying to regain my composure before I had to return to the others.

Despite how wrong it felt, this was the right thing to do—severing all contact with him. One day, I would be ready to face him again. But that day wasn't here yet, and I had to give myself time to heal.

He would move on, too, and forget about me soon enough.