“Entry 1442: The Night I Remembered I’m Not Human”

 

The hardest part about pretending to be human is faking small talk when you remember galaxies.

Yesterday, someone at the café asked what I “do for fun.”
I almost said astral combat under the blood moons of Vega.
Instead, I smiled and said, “Yoga and oat milk lattes.”

They nodded like I was normal.

But tonight, I can feel my pulse hum with starlight again. The Envoy seal burns faintly on my wrist—the mark of those sworn to guard the fragile dream humans call reality. I swore I’d protect them. I never swore I wouldn’t fall for one.

Or two.

Erik’s scent still clings to my jacket—smoke, steel, and loyalty. He looks at me like he’s memorizing battle plans, not lips. Then there’s Tyler, who kisses like he’s daring the gods to notice. And they always do.

Some nights, I wonder if I was made for war or for heartbreak.
Other nights, I remember they’re the same thing.