He woke slowly, his chest heavy, as if the weight of the world lay across his body.
His eyes flickered open to the dim light of morning, and the emptiness around him felt smothering...a deep silence pressing against his ears.
The argument from the previous night hung over him, raven-like, its echoes still rebounding in his mind.
He blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains. For a brief moment, he dared to hope that Kris would be beside him, that perhaps all of this had been some horrid dream.
But when he turned, he found only the cold, untouched side of the bed.
Kris was gone. The realization sank into him like a stone, pulling him deeper into the murky waters of his thoughts.
Aaron's heart clenched, not with fiery anger but with a dull ache of resignation.
I had hoped against all odds that this time things might be different...that Kris wouldn't leave, that I wouldn't be left alone. But I am, and I always will be.
Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Alone is better than walking on eggshells, afraid to say the wrong thing.
"He doesn't care," Aaron whispered, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. The bitter truth settled in my stomach like lead.
Kris could leave the mansion, could walk away from him forever, and Aaron told himself it wouldn't matter. I will survive. I have to.
But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, the emptiness inside him only seemed to grow.
He lay there for some time, staring at the ceiling, letting the numbness wash over him.
It's easier to feel nothing than to face the jumbled mess of emotions threatening to spill over.
His heart felt used up, wrung out from all the pain it had taken in; there was nothing left to give him the energy to fight or even care.
I wonder if Kris feels the same...tired of endless quarreling and misunderstanding. Maybe it's better for both of us to stay away from each other.
At last, a rumble from his stomach broke through the fog in his head, reminding him that he hadn't eaten. But the thought of food brought no cheer, only dread.
I have no idea when breakfast will be served, no idea what the routine is in this strange, unfamiliar place.
His heart gave a slight pang at the realization that, even now, he was still an outsider here, a stranger in his own home.
How much easier would it be if things were peaceful, if I didn't have to worry about making mistakes or causing trouble?
Should he go down and find out, or should he stay in this hidden corner of the world, where he wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes?
The mere thought of leaving the safety of his room made his anxiety spike. What if I do something wrong, something that draws attention to me in the worst possible way? The fear of causing trouble, of disappointing someone...of disappointing Kris...is almost too much to bear.
"No," Aaron murmured, shaking his head slowly. Staying put is all that's left in this world.
He could not afford to, couldn't dare make things worse than they already were. In his mind's eye, he could already see Kris...
the cold, judgmental gaze, the silent condemnation haunting every corridor. No, it's better to just stay here, alone, and pretend it doesn't matter.
Aaron didn't want to add to the tension, didn't want to make things harder for Kris than they already were.
He let out a deep sigh and pushed the blankets aside before sitting up; his feet dangled over the cold floor.
He shivered, not just from the chill but from the gnawing sense of dread that curled in his gut.
The bathroom had seemed to symbolize his safe haven, a place where he could retreat in his mind, even if only for a little while.
His legs carried him across the room, but it was such a slow, heavy trudge that every step felt like the weight of his emotions was dragging him down.
He swung into the bathroom, and the lights flickered to life, bathing his reflection in the harsh glow.
Aaron's breath caught in his throat as he faced the image before him. His green hair, normally so full of life, now hung tangled and wild, resembling a garden forgotten by its caretaker.
His face was pale and drawn, unmistakably marked by last night's tears. I look fragile, almost breakable, as if I could shatter with just one touch.
He couldn't help but wonder what Kris would think if he saw him like this...so disheveled, so vulnerable. The thought filled me with deep, burning shame.
Aaron turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight any longer. The shame crawled over my skin, a deep, burning humiliation.
He sat down beside the bathtub and quite suddenly, though with all gentleness, unscrewed his steaming flask.
The water was warm, almost too hot to bear, but maybe it would melt away the numbness that clung to my bones since last night.
He quickly stripped off his clothes and hurried into the bathtub, eager to rinse away the pain still clinging to his skin.
But no matter how hard he tried, the thoughts refused to leave him. My life as a Senirips, thrust upon me, is nothing more than a jest.
It's nothing like I imagined, nothing like the stories. It's lonely, suffocating, filled with unspoken expectations and the fear of failing. Aaron sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to echo in the stillness.
The water was warm, but he was cold, his heart heavy with a sadness he couldn't shake.
I wanted to make things work and bring happiness to Kris, but now I'm not so sure I have the strength to try anymore.
He lay there, lost in thought, when a sudden knock shattered that fragile peace.
For an instant, his heart lurched in his chest as panic surged through him. Who could it be? The thought that it might be Kris sent another wave of anxiety crashing over me.
I'm not ready. I can't face him—not like this.
Aaron hastily donned a robe, wrapping it tightly around him as he climbed out of the tub. His hands were shaking by the time he reached the door;
his heart raced so hard he heard it in his ears. Cautiously opening the door, he saw the old servant woman standing there; it was a mix of relief and disappointment.
Though he was relieved it wasn't Kris, he was sadly disappointed that someone would witness him in this state.
He almost wished he could disappear to avoid scrutiny, the weight of expectations pressing down on him.
The maid replied, "Dinner is ready, Sir," in soft but firm tones. Her eyes were hard, as if she had seen it all before. "You should come down to eat."
Aaron nodded wearily, his voice catching in his throat. "Okay… I'll be there," he managed to stammer out, his voice barely audible.
The maid nodded briefly before turning and walking away, leaving him standing there, more alone than he had ever been.
A tiny flutter of fear passed through him at the thought of sitting at a table with Kris, of acting like everything was all right when it was anything but.
As the door closed, Aaron felt another wave of panic wash over him. I do not want to go downstairs and face Kris or anyone else right now.
The thought of being seated at the same table as his husband twisted in his stomach, feelings of dread clawing at him. I'm not ready to do that. I never will be.
He tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but it was no use. Last night rushed back...everything came flooding in, the crying, the things he had said.
Things no Senirips should ever say to their husband. And yet, I said them, the words spilling out in a moment of weakness I can't take back.
But through the haze of his shame, he couldn't suppress that tiny flutter of gratitude toward Kris.
For all the things Kris could have done, he hadn't lashed out, hadn't raised his voice or his hand.
He just listened, his face a mask, his eyes giving nothing away. Any other man might have punished me, might have demanded obedience.
But Kris hadn't. His patience was something I hadn't expected, and it only made the guilt weigh heavier on my heart.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aaron pulled himself together. He donned a plain white dress, the smoothness against his skin feeling like a shroud...heavy and choking.
Standing before the mirror for the last time, he felt his eyes darken, his expression lifeless.
The reflection stared back like a ghost, a shadow of what I used to be.
But he couldn't hide forever. He would have to go downstairs and confront Kris or whatever surprise awaited him.
One hand rested on his chest, where his heart thudded, while the other, shaking, reached for the doorknob.
The world outside his room seemed too cold and unwelcoming, making him feel out of place.
I can't hide forever. With a final breath of sadness, Aaron opened the door and stepped out.