The days after that moment between Aidi and Hetri were a whirlwind of quiet tension and awkward silences. There was no sudden revelation or grand gesture—just an unspoken understanding that hung between them, something neither of them could easily dismiss.
Aidi tried to push it aside, to bury it under layers of her usual defiance and distrust, but it lingered, like a low hum in the background of everything they did. And the worst part? She could tell it lingered for him too.
The mornings were the hardest. Hetri had a way of being present, whether it was in the form of a fleeting glance or a soft word that seemed too gentle for someone like him. Aidi couldn't decide if it was a kindness she wasn't used to or a weakness she feared. Either way, it left her unsettled.
Today was no different. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the garden. Aidi sat outside on the veranda, her back against the wooden railing, trying to focus on the small things—the way the breeze moved the leaves, the soft sound of distant chatter, the occasional birdcall breaking the quiet. But she couldn't stop thinking about the way Hetri had looked at her after that moment. The way his touch had felt like an anchor, even though she didn't want it to be.
"You're still out here?" Hetri's voice interrupted her thoughts.
She didn't turn to look at him, though she could feel him standing just behind her. There was something about his presence now, something different, and it made her feel both uneasy and oddly comforted. She wasn't sure which side she wanted to lean into.
"I like the peace," she said, her voice casual, though the edge of tension was impossible to hide.
"You don't mind being alone, then?" His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an undertone of something deeper there. He was testing her. She knew it.
"I don't mind it," she replied, keeping her eyes on the horizon. "It's easier than pretending everything's fine when it's not."
A heavy silence followed her words, and Aidi could practically feel Hetri's gaze burning into the back of her head. But she refused to meet it. She wouldn't let him see how much his presence affected her, how much his proximity made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't quite define.
"I'm not pretending," he said quietly, his voice steady. "I know what I've done. I know what you think of me. But I'm trying to change that. I don't want to be the guy you hate."
Aidi's chest tightened. She should have snapped at him, told him to stop, to leave her alone. But she didn't. Instead, she just stayed silent, her breath shallow, her heart racing as she tried to keep the emotions threatening to rise in check.
"Why?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you keep trying?"
He didn't answer right away. There was something in his expression—something that made Aidi want to look at him, to see what he was thinking. But she held back.
"Because I don't want to lose the chance to prove I'm not that person," he said after a pause, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Aidi. I'm asking for a chance to show you that I'm more than what you think."
Aidi turned her head just enough to see him, her eyes searching his face for something she could latch onto, some sign of insincerity or hidden agenda. But there was nothing. Just the steady, unwavering gaze of someone who had no illusions about what they wanted.
"I'm not going to make this easy for you," she said, her voice rough with the emotions she hadn't let herself feel. "I won't pretend to like you. I won't pretend that everything's fine just because you want it to be."
"I don't want you to pretend," Hetri said, his voice steady. "I just want you to be real with me. Even if it's about hating me."
Aidi's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to yell at him for making this more complicated than it needed to be. She wanted to tell him to leave, to stop trying to play the savior in her life when she didn't need one.
But instead, she just sat there, silent, staring at him as the tension between them thickened.
"I don't know how to do this," she muttered finally, looking away. "I don't know how to just... let go of everything."
"You don't have to let go of it all at once," Hetri said, his voice softer now. "But I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to let me show you who I am now."
Aidi closed her eyes, her head spinning. There were too many questions, too many unresolved feelings swirling inside her. She had spent so long hating him, building walls around herself, and now he was asking her to break them down.
But was he worth it?
She didn't know. And maybe, just maybe, that scared her more than anything else.
"I don't know what you want from me," she whispered, almost to herself.
Hetri took a step closer, his presence undeniable. "I want you to see me. Not as the person you thought I was, but as the person I'm trying to be."
For a long moment, Aidi didn't respond. She just let the silence stretch between them, feeling the pull of something she couldn't explain.
It was easier to hate him, to keep him at a distance. It was easier to hold onto the anger, to cling to the resentment that had been her armor for so long.
But it wasn't enough anymore.
Aidi stood up suddenly, breaking the moment. "I need some air," she said, her voice sharp as she walked past him.
Hetri didn't stop her. He didn't reach out or try to hold her back. He just watched as she moved away, knowing that it wasn't the end. It was just the beginning of something neither of them were ready to face.
Aidi's steps were quick, her heart pounding in her chest as she walked through the garden, trying to shake off the way Hetri's words had affected her. But no matter how fast she walked, no matter how hard she tried to push it away, she knew the truth.
They were getting closer.
And it terrified her.