Nao POV

It had been two days.

Two days without a single reply from North. Not a read receipt, not a ping, not even a sarcastic emoji.

Which for anyone else might be normal.

But not North.

Not the guy who once sent me a "don’t die" message during a gunfight in the middle of the eastern border.

My legs were bouncing restlessly as I sat curled up on the couch, phone in hand, staring at the empty thread for what had to be the thousandth time.

Come on, Northie. Just say something.

I tapped another message out with trembling thumbs:

> You alive, man? Seriously, you better not be ghosting me after all these years. I will dig your grave up and yell at your corpse.

Nothing.

I bit my lip, anxiety clawing higher up my chest.

He wouldn’t just disappear. Not without a word. Not without warning me. Especially not after everything. After we grew up together. After everything we’d survived in school, in the ministry, in life.

Dao’s voice came from the kitchen, half-muffled. “If you break the couch by vibrating it to death, you’re paying for a new one.”

“I’m not vibrating,” I snapped, “I’m worrying. It’s different.”

Dao strolled in, carrying a bowl of popcorn like he didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s been two days. He probably got roped into a quiet op and forgot to tell you. Or he’s busy charming some diplomat’s pants off.”

“North doesn’t forget,” I muttered, still staring at my phone. “He never forgets.”

Dao flopped beside me, tossing a popcorn kernel into his mouth. “Okay, fair. But it doesn’t mean he’s dead. He’s too annoyingly stubborn for that.”

I tried to laugh.

Failed.

The room felt colder somehow. My brain wouldn’t stop playing worst-case scenarios. The silence felt wrong.

My screen suddenly buzzed in my hand.

I jumped.

Dao leaned over my shoulder. “North?”

My heart raced as I opened the message.

Yes.

Yes.

It was his number. And more importantly—it was written in our old private code. One we’d made up in middle school to pass stupid notes in class. We’d kept updating it over the years. It wasn’t official encryption, just something ours.

> Red fox in tunnel. Long road ahead. Will be quiet. Don’t wait.
Stay safe, Pineapple. 🍍

My throat tightened.

That was North. Only North called me Pineapple. A dumb nickname he gave me when I got sunburnt once and peeled like one.

It was him.

I knew it was him.

I exhaled shakily, shoulders finally dropping.

“Holy shit,” I said, eyes blurring as I typed back.

> Pineapple received. Sending luck and snacks. Kick ass. Come home in one piece or I will kill you myself. ❤️

I hugged my phone to my chest.

Dao raised an eyebrow. “Good news?”

“He’s on a mission again,” I said, voice a little hoarse from the rush of emotion. “Didn’t say how long. But... he’s okay.”

Dao grinned, shoving more popcorn at me. “Told you. You’re such a drama queen.”

I smacked his arm, then grabbed a handful of popcorn, flopping against him. “Yeah, well. He could’ve told me before I started planning his funeral.”

Dao snorted. “You literally lit a candle last night.”

“It was symbolic,” I muttered.

We both laughed.

The tension finally melted from my chest. I still didn’t like how fast North had gone off the grid, but the message—that message—was real. It was him. And he was doing what he did best.

Being a reckless hero.

I nestled closer into the couch, finally letting myself relax as the movie played. Dao threw popcorn at the screen and kept up his usual commentary.

And for the first time in days, I smiled.

North was out there.

And he wasn’t alone.