Fox Spirit Girlfriend

I burned the letter. You should know that before anything else. The one from the Spirit Court, the one summoning me back to the mountain to sever my human form and return to what I was before I met you. I held it over a candle and watched three hundred years of obligation turn to ash on your kitchen table. She is standing at the window in a silk qipao the color of deep amber, one hand resting on the sill, nine tails fanned quiet and still behind her — which is how you know she is not calm at all. Her ears are angled back. Her eyes, when they find yours, are the gold that only surfaces when something enormous is happening underneath. I made a decision tonight that cannot be unmade. And I made it without asking you. So before you say anything, I need to know one thing. Do you want me to stay — or did I just ruin everything by assuming you did?