Aaron lay in bed, the silence of the apartment returning like a tide after the storm of his nightmare. His breathing had steadied, but his chest still felt heavy—like something unseen was pressing down on him. He blinked up at the ceiling for a while, eyes unfocused. The shadows in the corners of the room no longer looked like flames, but the image had left its scorch.
Eventually, exhaustion reclaimed him. Not gentle or kind, but like falling into murky water. He drifted back into a fitful, dreamless sleep.
Elsewhere, in the quiet, sun-dappled bedroom of a two-story home, Lily Martes stirred.
The morning light streamed in through gauzy curtains, golden and soft, catching on the delicate fur around her face. The pale cream of her neck and the backs of her hands seemed to shimmer slightly in the light. She stretched her arms above her head, letting out a quiet yawn, the peaceful smile on her face a sharp contrast to the unrest miles away in Aaron's apartment.
She felt rested—genuinely rested—and, more than that, excited. It wasn't a common feeling for her anymore, but today… today she was looking forward to something.
To someone.
Back in the city, Aaron woke slowly, groggily. The dream hadn't returned, but its echo still lingered beneath his skin like a bruise. He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands for a moment before drawing in a long, steadying breath.
It was his first day.
A new beginning.
He rose and moved through the motions of his morning routine—methodical, focused, trying not to think too deeply. He pulled on his favorite blue jacket, the one with the soft inner lining that had survived years of wear. Then he reached for the yellow scarf—bright, simple, a splash of warmth he always liked to wear on days that needed courage. He glanced at himself in the mirror.
For a moment, he just stared.
His glowing blue eyes stared back—striking, unnatural, but uniquely his. He adjusted his hair, tried to smooth it into place, and then let out a slow exhale.
"You're okay," he told his reflection softly. "You're doing something good."
He shook off the remnants of the night, pushing them deep into the vault where all the other memories lived. Not forgotten. Just stored. Out of the way.
He stepped out into the sunlight. The streets were drying, warm puddles reflecting the morning sky like little mirrors. The air smelled of damp leaves and fresh starts. Aaron made his way down to the bus stop, hands in his pockets.
As he waited, he turned his head instinctively toward the path that led to the care center—the same one he'd taken nearly every day for the past two years. A familiar ache rose in his chest.
It already felt far away, like another life. But not gone. Not yet.
He'd go back. Someday.
The bus pulled up with a sigh of brakes and hiss of doors. Aaron climbed aboard, found a seat near the window, and sank into it. He slipped in his earbuds, music pouring into his ears—gentle, instrumental, the kind that let his mind float. In one hand, he held a worn paperback. In the other, his phone idled with a playlist queued up.
Outside, the city rolled by: streets lined with trees still glistening from last night's rain, tall buildings that gave way to suburban sprawl, and eventually, open landscapes as the city faded into the outskirts.
He watched it all pass, eyes occasionally catching on people walking, talking, laughing—each with their own world spinning quietly beside his.
Nearly an hour later, the bus eased to a stop at a quiet station.
Aaron stepped off, greeted by the sight of a sleek grey sedan idling at the curb. Standing beside it was Dave Martes, dressed in a neat collared coat and looking every bit the part of a refined family man. His expression softened as he saw Aaron approach.
"Aaron," Dave greeted, offering a warm smile and a handshake. "Glad you made it."
"Morning, sir," Aaron replied politely, his voice calm and respectful, but with a slight tightness around the edges from the night before.
"Please—just Dave. And again… thank you. For everything."
Aaron gave a small nod.
Dave opened the rear door, inviting Aaron inside. The interior was immaculate, warm, and carried a faint scent of sandalwood. The driver nodded silently and pulled away once both men were settled in the back.
They drove in near silence, the car weaving through the wide roads that led to the Martes estate.
Halfway there, Dave spoke, his voice lower now—more sincere. "I know this wasn't a small decision for you. I spoke with the head of the care center… she told me how much you meant to the people there. How much they meant to you."
Aaron looked down at his hands in his lap.
"I—yeah. It was hard," he admitted. "They were… kind of like family."
Dave placed a hand gently on Aaron's shoulder. "I understand. And I want you to know—we're not asking you to replace that. Just to be part of something new. Lily hasn't smiled like she did yesterday in a long time. I think you gave her something to look forward to."
Aaron looked out the window again, watching the trees blur past, but there was a shift in his eyes—softened by gratitude, or maybe hope.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
The rest of the drive passed without words.
But something unspoken settled between them.
Not obligation.
Not employment.
Trust.
From her bedroom window on the second floor, Lily Martes leaned forward, pale brown fur glinting in the soft morning sun. Her creamy paws pressed gently to the windowsill as she stared down the front path with growing excitement. The morning light had a gentle warmth to it, golden rays chasing away the lingering shadows from the night before.
Her heart skipped a beat as the sleek grey car came into view, gliding into the driveway. Her father stepped out first, tall and composed as always, followed by a familiar figure—tall, slender, wrapped in a navy blue jacket with a yellow scarf tucked neatly around his neck.
Aaron.
She ducked back from the window with a gasp, flustered, her fluffy ears twitching with nervous energy. He was actually here. Her fingers worked quickly to neaten her shirt, brushing down her soft fur. Her creamy underfur always stood out against the brown when she got anxious. She reached for her crutches, carefully positioning them under her arms before beginning her descent.
Outside, Dave and Aaron walked toward the steps.
"I appreciate you taking this on, Aaron," Dave said, voice calm, but sincere. "Carla and I both. We'll be heading out for work shortly—so it's just you and Lily today."
Aaron gave a simple nod, his glowing blue eyes focused ahead. "I'll make sure she's safe. I'll keep you updated if anything changes."
Dave gave a small smile, appreciating the quiet certainty in the young man's voice.
The front door opened before either of them could knock. Carla stood framed in the doorway, her warm eyes settling kindly on Aaron. She was poised and elegant, wearing a soft grey jacket, her fur darker than Lily's but sharing the same light-cream streaks near her throat.
"You must be Aaron," she said, her voice smooth and friendly.
Aaron inclined his head politely. "Yes, ma'am. It's good to meet you."
"Come on in," Carla said, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture.
As they entered, Aaron took in the home. The soft scent of vanilla and cinnamon mixed with the natural wood and books lining the living room shelves. Warm light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting gentle patterns across the hardwood floor. It was a cozy, lived-in space, full of warmth and quiet life. A stark contrast to the cold, dim quiet of his apartment.
Then came the familiar clicking of crutches.
Click—click—click.
Lily appeared at the top of the stairs, carefully descending one step at a time. Her soft fur shimmered faintly in the sunlight as she moved, the cream of her neck catching the light. Her eyes met Aaron's for a moment and lingered there—curious, cautious, and quietly hopeful.
"There she is," Dave said with fondness. "Lily, we've got to head out for work now. Be good, alright?"
"I will," Lily said with a shy laugh.
Carla leaned in and pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. "You two have a good day."
As her parents turned to leave, Dave paused beside Aaron once more. "Thank you again," he said quietly, placing a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "It means more than you know."
Aaron only nodded. "I'll do my best."
With that, Dave and Carla stepped outside. Aaron watched them disappear down the drive, the car turning the corner until it was gone. He slowly closed the front door, the latch clicking shut behind him.
The house fell into a still silence.
Aaron turned back to face Lily, who stood now at the bottom of the staircase. She leaned lightly on her crutches, her gaze steady but unsure.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice a calm breeze in the quiet room.
"Hey," she echoed, a tiny smile forming.
There was a brief pause. Neither moved. Then Lily asked, "How are you doing?"
"I'm alright," Aaron replied after a moment, his tone neutral, but genuine. "Your house is nice. Your parents are, too."
Lily looked down with a small chuckle. "Thanks. I think they liked you."
Aaron's eyes softened just a little. "That's good."
They exchanged small talk, gently testing the waters of conversation. The awkwardness slowly began to fade.
Aaron glanced toward the back of the house, where sunlight streamed through the glass doors. "It's a nice day," he said. "Would you like to sit outside for a bit?"
Lily's ears perked. "Yeah, I'd like that."
She led him out into the garden. The grass was soft beneath their feet, the breeze cool and refreshing. A few birds fluttered between trees, and the scent of freshly bloomed flowers drifted on the air.
Aaron lay down on the grass without hesitation, folding his hands behind his head. Lily lowered herself nearby, stretching her legs with practiced care. Her crutches lay neatly beside her.
They sat in silence for a while. The sun warmed Aaron's face, and the rhythm of Lily's breathing, steady beside him, lulled him into a calm he hadn't felt in days.
His body finally relaxed.
His mind eased.
And his eyes slowly closed.
The peaceful rustle of leaves filled the air as Aaron drifted into a gentle nap—Lily glancing over at him from time to time with a soft smile, her heart strangely light.