The door closed behind us with a soft thud, shutting out the night… and everything that had happened in it.
For a moment, I simply stood there in the entryway, breathing as though the air in my lungs had turned thick. My heartbeat was still uneven — too fast, too loud — as if it hadn't realized the danger was over.
Xanthe touched my arm gently. "Tyche… look at me."
I did.
Her dark coils framed her worried face, her eyes warm and steady in a way mine couldn't be.
"You're safe now," she whispered.
Safe.
The word felt like a lie — not because Xanthe meant it, but because my body refused to believe it.
Safe people didn't run until their legs burned.
Safe people didn't shatter in front of strangers.
Safe people didn't get dragged into dances with men far above their world.
I exhaled a sharp, shaky breath. "I don't feel safe."
"You don't have to," she said softly. "You just have to breathe for now."
Xanthe guided me further inside — not pulling, not rushing — just walking beside me until we reached the small table near the stairs. My palms were cold, my fingers trembling slightly, and I curled them into fists to hide it.
"Do you want water?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Food?"
Another shake.
"Then…" Her voice wavered. "Do you want to talk?"
My throat tightened. "If I start talking," I managed, "I don't think I'll stop."
Xanthe didn't pressure me. She never did.
"Then talk until you're empty," she said. "I'll listen. And when you're done… you can go to your room and rest."
I swallowed, hard.
Everything in me wanted to stay quiet — to shove the night into a box and lock it away.
But the words burned. And if I didn't let them out, they would choke me.
"Xanthe…" My voice cracked. "I don't understand why this keeps happening to me."
She stepped closer, eyes softening.
"It wasn't supposed to be me," I continued, the dam breaking. "Not tonight. Not ever. I was supposed to stay in the shadows, remember? That was the plan. Blend in. Be insignificant. Let the world forget I exist."
Xanthe's face twisted with pain. "Don't say that."
"It's true." My breath hitched. "I was doing fine being invisible — and then suddenly everyone was looking at me. Whispering about me. Judging me. And him—"
The memory hit hard.
The stranger.
The man with the cold hands and colder voice.
The one who danced like sin and shadows.
"…and then when he looked at me…"
I swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the fabric of my dress.
"He… he felt familiar somehow."
Xanthe frowned. "Familiar? How?"
"I don't know."
My voice shook with confusion and frustration.
"I kept thinking I'd seen him before. Not here, not in the village — somewhere else. Somewhere I can't remember."
A shiver ran through me.
"In the moment, it felt like… like I knew his face. Like I had stared into those features before. But I don't know where. I've never met anyone like him, Xanthe. No one from here looks like that. No one moves like that. No one speaks like him."
I bit down hard on my lip.
"And it makes no sense. I shouldn't know him. I don't know him. But he felt like a memory I can't reach."
Xanthe brushed a tear off my cheek with her thumb. "Maybe it was just fear. Or shock. Or the dance."
"Maybe…"
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true.
The feeling was too deep. Too sharp. Too real.
Like a shadow I had seen once before — in a dream I could barely remember.
Even thinking of him made my stomach clench.
I pressed a hand to my forehead. "He looked at me like he could see through me. Like he knew something I didn't. And then he touched me and I—"
Heat flashed across my face. My hands trembled harder.
"I felt small," I whispered. "Like he could break me without touching me. Like one wrong word and he'd—"
I cut myself off, breath stuttering.
Xanthe wrapped her arms around me. Not tight — just enough for me to lean on if I wanted to. "Tyche… it's over for tonight. You don't have to relive it right now."
But I already was.
Every step.
Every whisper.
Every humiliation.
Every brush of his fingers against my waist.
Every cold word he threw at me afterward.
"I don't know how to face tomorrow," I whispered.
"You don't have to," Xanthe murmured. "Just face the stairs. Face your bed."
She squeezed my shoulder gently. "The rest can wait."
I nodded — weakly, gratefully — and pulled away.
"I'll be in my room," I said, voice almost gone.
Xanthe didn't follow. She only whispered, "Goodnight, Tyche," as I climbed the stairs.
When I reached my room and closed the door behind me, the world finally went silent.
And all the emotions I held in finally crashed.
My knees buckled.
My breath stuttered.
My hands covered my face.
And in the darkness, in the quiet, in the isolation of my own small room…
I broke.
❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹