blind bet

The retort crystallized in Veritas' throat, sharp-edged and unsure. That night had changed him too, Aventurine's vulnerability cracking open something inside him he usually kept tightly sealed.The realization hit him with the force of inevitability: from his proposal at the bar, perhaps even from their first meeting, they’d been on a collision course. Truth was not a certainty: it was a risk, a blind bet. But to maintain this distance would only compound their mutual deception, irrevocably damage what they had for a fleeting moment. (To Aventurine's risky games, Veritas offers not a hand of cards, but a hand to hold.)