While Inera was preparing dinner once again, an uncharacteristic lapse in concentration led to a sudden cut on her hand. This small injury was unexpected in her usually precise routine, but she only let out a muted "Ah," her voice as empty as her current state of mind.
Blood slowly seeped from the cut, but she looked at it indifferently, numb to the pain that would normally accompany such an injury. It was as if her emotions had been sent away, leaving a void where joy and anger once resided. She felt hollow.
It had been a week since the traumatic incident with Arthur, and the thought of entering the dark room where it all happened filled her with... fear.
Arthur's actions had left a deep and unsettling scar on her heart, turning her once-cherished refuge into a chamber of uncertainty. Every memory of that day was like a needle in her soul, threatening to break the thin ice of her composure.
Their friendship now felt almost tainted, slowly transforming into a source of pain. If fate had been different—if she hadn't been born a woman—perhaps Arthur's feelings would have remained platonic, and their bond untroubled.
They would still be spending nights talking about books, laughing, and teasing each other.
But God had cast her in a role that seemed to inadvertently entangle those around her, an aspect of her existence she was beginning to despise.
"Oh my," she thought wryly, "I'm even starting to believe in God." A dry, humorless laugh escaped her as she bandaged the superficial wound.
As Inera resumed her cooking duties, carefully preparing dinner, Olivia, a colleague and fellow servant, approached her hesitantly with a request.
"Inera, sorry to interrupt, but do you think we could switch tasks again tonight?"
Inera responded with an indifferent shrug and a detached "Sure, why?" despite her lack of interest.
Olivia's face lit up as she laughed and explained, "I have a date, and Diana let me leave early today. So I'm trying to save as much time as possible."
Olivia's cheerful excitement stirred no similar feeling in Inera, who simply replied, "I'll do it," and immediately regretted asking for Olivia's reasons.
Her colleague seemed taken aback by Inera's indifference. She hesitated for a moment before expressing her gratitude, albeit with a confused expression, and then left.
Inera was left alone with her thoughts, which became increasingly tumultuous and self-reproachful.
"What am I doing?" she asked herself, recognizing the inconsistency between her behavior and her character. She wasn't usually someone who alienated others or acted so indifferently.
"I just need some time to myself. Maybe I'll ask Diana for some leave," she considered.
But contrary to her wish for a bit of solitude, Diana appeared in the kitchen and approached her. Annoyance and frustration rose within Inera. What did everyone want from her today? She was a person, not an object to be summoned at will...
"Stop! What am I even thinking! Argh!" Inera forcibly halted her thoughts, angry that Arthur's words still echoed in her mind. The recent unsettling incident with Arthur seemed to permeate every aspect of her life, leaving her agitated and disoriented.
"Inera?" Diana's voice reached her, prompting Inera to gather herself and turn to her superior.
"Yes?" Inera managed to say, attempting a friendly tone but ultimately failing. Diana seemed unimpressed by the lack of warmth in her response.
"How have you been feeling lately?" Diana asked unexpectedly. The question surprised Inera; it was unusual for Diana to inquire so directly about personal matters. Given Inera's recent behavior at work, however, it wasn't entirely inappropriate.
"I'm the same as always, thank you," Inera replied, trying to mask the inner turmoil she was experiencing.
Diana wasn't convinced. Her voice lowered to a whisper with a serious undertone. "I don't know what happened between you two, but he told me he really wants to see you."
The revelation sparked immediate anger in Inera. "Well, you can tell him I don't!" she snapped.
But a moment later, the surprise that Diana knew about her secret meetings with Arthur made her shiver.
Before Inera could ask further questions, Diana gently placed a finger on her lips, signaling discretion. "Shh, child. I understand that it's none of my business, but the young master has improved significantly lately, and your behavior has been odd, so I figured it out quickly. But now it seems something has happened between you two."
Diana's gaze met Inera's with deep insight. "It's complicated being young," she began softly. "The world is so new, and every day we're faced with feelings and emotions we'd often rather not experience. But life isn't a straight path; it's more like a roller coaster that lifts you to dizzying heights only to plunge you into the deepest valleys."
Diana's words were a gentle murmur filled with compassion as she stepped closer and enveloped Inera in a comforting hug.
Though Inera didn't return the hug, the warmth of Diana's gesture penetrated her, stirring the emotions she had tried to suppress. Unbidden tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"I don't know what to do, Diana," she admitted, her voice hoarse and heavy.
Diana held her tightly. "I can't tell you what to do. You'll try and fail, figure it out somehow, and fail again. That's part of growing up." The soothing words couldn't stop the flow of tears.
Knowing Inera needed a break, Diana gently suggested, "Go and take the rest of the day off, child. I'll reassign your tasks to someone else." Inera's first impulse was to protest, not wanting to burden her colleagues, but her strength was waning. Gratefully, she nodded and left the kitchen.
Going home, however, was not on her agenda. As she wiped away her tears, a new resolve took hold of her. Diana's intervention had given her the push she needed.
She couldn't abandon her connection with Arthur without addressing the issues that had arisen between them. If she knew one thing, it was that she had to face what had happened and try to reclaim their friendship.
Or at least try.
"He'll understand," Inera assured herself, striving to believe that her forthcoming honesty would heal the rift that had formed between her and Arthur.
She understood that time had not been kind to him. His isolation and fear of abandonment had left him unprepared for the complexities of relationships and emotions. He had never had the chance to truly grow up. Inside, he was still a child.
Standing before Arthur's door, her resolve wavered briefly as her hand trembled on the doorknob. Overcoming her hesitation, she opened the door to the familiar darkness. The room was as silent and shadowy as ever, with no candlelight to pierce the gloom.
"Arthur?" she called softly into the darkness.
The response was a faint rustling of sheets and a shadowy figure stirring in the bed. "Inera? Is that you?" Arthur's voice carried a hint of disbelief. But the intensity from last time was gone.
"Yes, it's me," Inera replied, her voice measured and cautious. She stayed close to the door, hesitant to move closer, even when knowing how important it was to face the situation.
"Please light a candle," she requested, seeking a bit of clarity in the dark room.
Arthur looked at her silently for a moment before complying. "Of course." As the candlelight flickered to life and illuminated Arthur's face, Inera's heart sank. His eyes were red and swollen, and dark circles betrayed his emotions.
But Inera steeled herself against the wave of sympathy threatening to overwhelm her. She had to address the issue directly, or their friendship would suffer irreparable damage.
"Diana mentioned that you wanted to see me," she began, carefully watching his reaction.
"Ah, right," Arthur replied, his voice hollow. "She was kind enough to pass on the message."
A heavy silence filled the room. Inera didn't know what to say. She had made it this far, but now that she was here, words failed her.
It was Arthur who broke the silence with an unexpected apology. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice full of sincere regret. "I'm sorry for hurting you."
Inera absorbed his words. "Is that all you're sorry for?" she asked, not out of anger but in pursuit of seeking deeper understanding.
Arthur looked uncomfortable, his hand absently scratching his head. "I'm sorry for losing control, for letting my emotions dictate my actions. It won't happen again, Inera. Please, believe me." His plea was raw, but his voice trembled with emotion.
Inera met his gaze, her own eyes filled with sadness. Arthur's apology was a start, but it only addressed the symptoms of a deeper problem.
She couldn't offer forgiveness until she conveyed the full extent of her feelings and laid the foundation for a renewed and healthier friendship.
Taking a small step forward but maintaining a respectful distance, Inera gathered her courage. "I believe you, Arthur. I've always believed in you," she affirmed gently.
Taking a deep breath, she continued, "You are a remarkable person, Arthur. Despite everything, you've found reasons to laugh. Your resilience has inspired me, and I was overjoyed to see you regain your strength. But in doing so, I overlooked the depth of your struggle."
Arthur listened intently, his expression serious as Inera spoke.
"I underestimated the toll the last four years have taken on you," Inera admitted, her tone full of compassion but not pity. "I hoped you could leave those painful times behind and look toward a brighter future. I never wanted to hurt you, Arthur. But your words, your actions… they wounded me deeply."
Inera's words were a sober acknowledgment of the chasm that had opened between them. Arthur's face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, was a canvas of varied emotions—pain, struggle, sadness, guilt, and deeper feelings hidden behind a mask of darkness.
"I'm sorry, Inera." Arthur's voice was barely more than a whisper, echoing in the room. "But if you leave... I don't know what I would do." His final words could have meant something genuine, but Inera knew Arthur too well.
Her heart clenched. It wasn't just an apology; it was a plea, a subtle chain trying to bind her to his side.
"Arthur, I've already told you that I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him, her tone gentle yet firm, trying to quell the brewing storm.
But Arthur's eyes now flickered with a different fire.
"Inera, you are the light in my darkness, the only thing that keeps me anchored to this world," he began, his voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and something more intense, more demanding.
"I value our friendship, Arthur," Inera replied with growing unease. "But friendship is a bond between equals, not an anchor that drags one down."
"You don't understand," Arthur insisted, his tone rising, a hint of accusation threading through his words. "You've never been as trapped as I am, never felt the crushing weight of loneliness that suffocates you every waking moment. I can't just shut off my thoughts; how would you feel being locked up with yourself all day?"
Arthur paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then he added, "I've even thought about ending my life to stop the suffering. But then I met you, and my world changed again."
Inera's eyes widened. Her heart ached at the pain in his voice, but a spark of resolve ignited within her. She instinctively knew Arthur was trying to manipulate her. Yet she didn't lose hope in her friend.
"Arthur, not experiencing your pain firsthand doesn't lessen the care I have for you. Don't you understand that people can also feel immense pain when they see those they care about falling apart? But care and understanding have limits. They must not become chains."
Arthur's expression twisted, his vulnerability turning into a smoldering bitterness. "Chains? Is that what my feelings for you are? Chains that hold you back?"
"No, Arthur, that's not what I meant!" Inera exclaimed, her patience waning as she searched for the right words to bridge the chasm between them. "But love, real love, liberates, it doesn't bind. It respects, it doesn't possess."
Arthur's laugh was bitter, devoid of any genuine humor. "Respect? Possess? You speak of ideals, Inera. Ideals that crumble in the face of true loneliness. But you've never been truly alone, Inera. I have. You are my beacon, my hope. Without you, what do I have left?"
Inera's resolve hardened, while a deep sadness enveloped her. This wasn't the Arthur she knew, not the friend who shared dreams and fears with her.
This was someone else, someone consumed by an obsession that left no room for reason.