The morning air was crisp, a faint chill brushing against Aidi's skin as she lay awake in the unfamiliar bed. The soft sounds of the house waking up reached her ears—doors opening, muffled footsteps, and the occasional clink of dishes from somewhere in the distance. She turned her head toward the window, watching as sunlight streamed through the curtains, dappling the room in a golden glow.
It should have been peaceful, but Aidi felt anything but.
The events of the past few days lingered in her mind like a storm cloud. Hetri's sudden attention, his insistence on caring for her—it didn't make sense. She wanted to believe it was all an act, another manipulative ploy, but the way he looked at her...it felt different. And she hated that it felt different.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Before she could answer, Hetri stepped inside, a tray balanced in his hands.
"You really need to work on waiting for an invitation," Aidi muttered, sitting up slowly.
Hetri smirked. "And you need to work on saying thank you when someone brings you breakfast."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue as he set the tray on the bedside table. The smell of fresh bread and tea wafted up, making her stomach twist in betrayal.
"Do you expect me to eat every time you show up with food?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes," Hetri replied simply, pulling up his usual chair.
Aidi glared at him, but her stomach growled in response, forcing her to reach for the bread. She tore off a piece and took a bite, chewing reluctantly.
"See? Not so hard," Hetri said, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.
"Don't get used to this," Aidi warned between bites. "I'm only eating because I need the strength to get out of here."
Hetri's smirk faded, his expression shifting to something more serious. "And where will you go, Aidi? Back to the battlefield? Back to a war you're not ready to fight?"
Her hands stilled, the piece of bread hovering just inches from her lips. "I'll go wherever I want," she said finally, her voice sharp.
"You're not invincible," Hetri said, his tone gentler than she expected. "And the people you're so eager to fight for...they won't always have your back."
Aidi glared at him. "You don't know anything about me."
"Don't I?" Hetri countered, leaning forward. "You're stubborn, reckless, and you think you can take on the world by yourself. But the truth is, you're just as scared as anyone else. You just hide it better."
Aidi's chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. "You don't get to analyze me," she snapped. "You don't get to sit there and act like you care."
Hetri's gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw something raw in his eyes. "Maybe I do care," he said quietly.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on them. Aidi didn't know how to respond, so she didn't.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of awkward silences and stolen glances. Aidi stayed in her room, unwilling to venture into the rest of the house where Hetri's presence loomed like a shadow. She tried to distract herself by reading the books stacked on the bedside table, but her mind kept drifting back to their conversation.
By evening, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Hetri appeared in her doorway once again, this time without a tray or book in hand.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant.
Aidi looked up from her book, narrowing her eyes. "About what?"
"About this...mess," Hetri said, gesturing vaguely between them. "Whatever it is."
"There is no 'mess,'" Aidi said firmly. "You're overthinking it."
Hetri stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate. "I don't think I am. I think we've been tiptoeing around something we don't want to admit."
"And what's that?" Aidi asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
"That we're not so different," Hetri said simply.
Aidi blinked, caught off guard by his answer. "Not so different?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got to be joking."
"I'm not," Hetri said, his gaze steady. "You think I don't know what it's like to feel alone? To feel like the world is against you?"
Aidi opened her mouth to argue but found herself at a loss for words.
"I've made mistakes," Hetri continued, his voice low. "More than I can count. But I'm trying to be better. And whether you like it or not, you're part of that."
Aidi stared at him, her mind racing. She wanted to hate him, to dismiss his words as another one of his manipulative games. But the sincerity in his voice was hard to ignore.
"You think you can just say all this and I'll forgive you?" she asked, her voice trembling with anger.
"No," Hetri said softly. "But I hope you'll give me a chance to prove I'm not the person you think I am."
The vulnerability in his eyes was almost unbearable. Aidi turned away, her emotions a tangled mess.
"Get out," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hetri hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but he nodded and left without another word.
As the door closed behind him, Aidi pressed her hands to her face, her heart pounding. She hated him. She hated the way he made her feel, the way his words chipped away at her walls.
But most of all, she hated the small, treacherous part of her that wanted to believe him.