The days had passed in a blur. Aidi had started to feel like her body was finally healing, but something else had shifted too—something that had nothing to do with the fever or her physical state. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the tension between her and Hetri was changing. It wasn't just about her resentment anymore. It was more complicated than that, and she hated how it made her feel.
The rain had stopped, leaving behind a soft mist that clung to the trees and plants outside. The morning was quiet, with only the occasional chirp of a bird breaking the silence. Aidi sat on the balcony, a cup of tea in her hands. She had learned to appreciate the small moments like this, even if they were fleeting.
Hetri was in the house somewhere, but she hadn't seen him since breakfast. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't mind the silence. The quiet gave her space to think.
But the peace didn't last long. The door behind her creaked open, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
"You're out here again," Hetri said, his voice a little softer than usual.
Aidi didn't respond immediately. She just sipped her tea, letting the warmth settle in her chest. There was something about the way Hetri always managed to show up when she least expected it. It made her feel unsettled, like he was always lurking in the background, waiting for her to crack.
"I like it out here," she finally said, keeping her eyes fixed on the view. "It's quiet."
He didn't say anything for a while, and she almost thought he would leave. But then he stepped closer, just a few feet behind her, and she could feel his presence like a weight in the air. She could hear him breathe, and the sound stirred something inside her that she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
"Are you ever going to stop hating me?" Hetri asked, his voice low.
The question caught her off guard. She set her cup down on the small table and turned to face him, her heart pounding in her chest. He wasn't looking at her with that usual guarded expression. Instead, his gaze was open, almost vulnerable, and it made her stomach twist.
"You still haven't earned my trust," she said, her voice steady, though it was harder to say the words now. "You've done too much damage."
He nodded, his expression darkening. "I know. I can't change the past, Aidi. But I can try to make things right."
She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting the way his words made her heart soften. "You can't fix everything."
"I know I can't fix everything," he repeated, stepping closer. "But I can show you that I'm trying."
Aidi wanted to argue, to push him away, but there was a part of her that didn't want to. It was a part she had kept buried for so long, afraid to let it see the light. She wasn't sure what to do with it, but the more Hetri tried, the more that part of her wanted to give in.
The air between them was charged, the tension palpable. Hetri's gaze softened, and for a moment, Aidi thought he might reach out to her. But he didn't. He just stood there, watching her, as if waiting for something—waiting for her to make the next move.
"Why do you keep doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Because I care," he said simply.
Aidi's breath hitched in her throat. She wanted to say something, anything to push him away, but the words didn't come. Instead, she just stared at him, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
"You don't have to," she said finally, though the words felt hollow. "You don't have to care about me."
Hetri stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming. "I can't help it. I never meant for things to go the way they did, but now... now I don't want to walk away."
Aidi's heart was pounding in her chest, and she had to force herself to breathe. She felt like she was on the edge of something—something dangerous and unfamiliar—and she wasn't sure if she was ready to take the leap.
"You're making this harder than it has to be," she muttered, turning away from him, her hands shaking slightly. "I don't need your pity."
"I'm not pitying you," Hetri said, his voice quieter now, almost tender. "I'm trying to understand you."
Aidi closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You can't understand me."
"I want to," he replied, his voice steady. "I've been trying for a while now, but you keep pushing me away."
She didn't respond right away, instead turning her attention back to the garden. The mist was starting to dissipate, revealing the lush greenery that surrounded them. It was beautiful here, in a way that was peaceful, almost calming. But the calmness didn't last. She could feel Hetri's eyes on her, and it made her skin burn with the heat of his gaze.
"I'm not an easy person to understand," Aidi said finally, her voice soft, though there was still an edge to it. "I'm not someone you can just... fix."
He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, and for a moment, she thought he might walk away. But then he took a step closer, and without a word, he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against hers. The touch was light, barely noticeable, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her. Aidi froze, her heart skipping a beat.
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, filled with something she couldn't quite name. There was no anger, no hostility. Just... understanding.
"I'm not trying to fix you, Aidi," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to be here. With you."
Aidi's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to pull away, to tell him that this was too much, too fast. But she couldn't. She was frozen in place, caught in the delicate balance between the past and the present, between the hatred she had carried for so long and the unexpected pull she was feeling now.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that quiet space. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aidi leaned in slightly. It was so small, so tentative, that she almost didn't recognize it as an invitation. But Hetri did.
Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his hand reaching up to gently cup her face. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of heat through her, and for the first time in a long time, Aidi felt herself relax into it.
The moment stretched on, fragile and fleeting, before Hetri slowly pulled back. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The words had already been spoken without either of them saying a single thing.
Aidi's heart was racing, her breath unsteady. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but one thing was clear: they were no longer as far apart as they once were.
And that scared her more than anything.