The overhead light hums gently, its golden hue washing over the tiled floor where two shadows breathe in the same rhythm yet belong to different worlds.
Kai stands by the sink, his head slightly bowed, shoulders drawn tight. The soft clinking of utensils on the counter has stopped long ago, but his fingers still twitch, restless searching for something to do, something that would keep his mind away from the storm gathering behind him.
Alina's voice cuts through the silence, steady, trembling, and edged with questions that have waited too long. "Why do you care for a person who's a stranger to you?"
Kai freezes. The sound of her voice, raw and fragile, makes the air thick. He doesn't turn. His jaw tightens, and a faint tremor runs through his hands.
She takes a small step forward. Her voice grows louder, the kind that trembles because it carries truth.
"Why does it matter to you if I've eaten or not? Why?" Her tone is not angry; it's desperate. Desperate for an answer. Desperate for him to look at her.
But Kai can't. He stands motionless, staring at the dark window ahead, his reflection barely visible through the thin layer of steam rising from the sink. His throat feels dry; his heart hammers so loud it drowns out every thought.
He doesn't know what to say because her questions are becoming difficult to answer. Each of her words feels like a step closer, literally. Her bare feet move softly across the tiles, the faint sound echoing between heartbeats. She doesn't realize how close she's getting, but he does. Every inch she moves forward sends another shiver down his spine.
"Why did you stay up late, waiting for me when I came home late from the cafe?" she asks, voice cracking. "Why did you make sure I never skipped meals? Why did you put the blanket on me when I fell asleep on the couch?"
Kai's grip on the counter loosens. His fingers tremble.
Her words aren't accusations anymore, they're confessions in disguise. Every question she throws feels like she's trying to understand not him, but herself, to understand why his presence had become her comfort, her safety, her quiet home.
Her breathing grows uneven, but she keeps moving. Another step. Then another. Until there's barely a breath of space between them.
Kai's reflection in the window fades under the weight of her closeness. His chest tightens, every nerve alive. He wants to turn, to face her, but he's terrified of what she might see in his eyes if he does.
"Why?" Her voice is barely a whisper now, trembling. "Why did you care like that… when you didn't have to?"
He doesn't answer. He can't. His lips part, but no words come out; only a shallow breath, trembling and quiet.
The air between them hums charged, fragile, aching. If he turned even slightly, his shoulder would brush her forehead. That's how close they are. Alina doesn't move anymore. She just stands there, eyes fixed on his back, trying to understand the man who has been her constant shadow.
The silence is deafening. And then a sharp, jarring sound splits through it. Her phone. The ringtone cuts through the air like glass shattering, loud and intrusive.
For a second, neither of them moves. The sound feels wrong, almost cruel, dragging them back to reality when both of them were standing on the edge of something neither dared to name.
The first ring, she ignores it. Her eyes were still on him. The second louder. More insistent. Her chest rises and falls faster now.
By the third, the noise becomes unbearable, vibrating through the quiet kitchen. Alina lets out a frustrated sigh, her voice breaking the silence she didn't want to end. "I… I should get that," she says softly, though it sounds more like an apology.
Her hand brushes the counter as she turns away. Each step feels reluctant, like she's walking away from something she didn't even know she wanted to stay in.
Kai doesn't move. His eyes stare straight ahead, fixed on nothing. The moment she leaves, the tension in his body collapses.
The faint sound of her voice filters from her room, soft, distant, muffled through the walls. He hears her say a few words on the phone, but he can't make them out. He exhales shaky, uneven, like he's been holding his breath for too long. He finally turns. The kitchen is empty. The place she was standing in was empty; no one was there. Everything is there except her.
He presses a hand over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing, but it doesn't work. The tremor in his chest only grows. His eyes sting, and for a moment, he forgets to hold it in. A single tear falls quietly, unwanted. It lands on the counter, leaving a small, glistening mark.
He can't stay. Not like this. Before his mind can stop him, Kai moves swiftly, almost frantically. He grabs his jacket from the chair, his keys from the table. His movements are sharp, shaky. He doesn't look back once as he walks toward the door.
Outside, the night is cold and merciless. The wind brushes against his face, but he doesn't feel it. He just keeps moving. He opens the car door, slides into the driver's seat, and shuts it behind him with a hollow thud. The world outside goes silent again, but this silence feels different, heavier.
His hands rest on the steering wheel, fingers trembling. His vision blurs. And then, slowly, he leans forward. His forehead touches the wheel. He stays like that still, quiet, breathing hard.
For a few seconds, he tries to hold himself together. But then the dam breaks. His shoulders shake. A strangled sound escapes his throat, a breath, a sob, a sound that's been trapped for too long. He grips the wheel tighter, his knuckles white, his tears falling faster now.
It's not just sadness, it's guilt of lying to her. The pain of wanting to tell her the truth but being too afraid. The helplessness of standing inches away from her and not being able to express himself.
He bites down hard on his lip, trying to silence the sobs, but they come anyway. His chest heaves; his body shakes with the weight of everything he's kept buried. He had promised himself he wouldn't cry again. Not after his mother passed away. Not after all he'd lost. But Alina broke that promise without even knowing it.
She brought the parts of him he thought were long dead back to life, and now, she's the reason it hurts again. Outside, rain begins to fall. Slow at first, then harder, streaking down the windshield like his own tears. The city lights blur through the glass, glowing like ghosts.
Kai doesn't move. He just sits there, head down, hands trembling, chest aching with the force of every unsaid word. He doesn't know how long he stays like that, maybe minutes, maybe hours. But by the time he lifts his head, the tears have dried, leaving only silence behind.
His eyes are red, his face pale, his breath shallow. He looks at his reflection in the rearview mirror and doesn't recognize the man staring back. The man in the mirror isn't Kai Arden, the composed, untouchable one. It's just a man who hides behind the shadows when he shouldn't. A man who cared too deeply, too quietly, until it broke him.
He leans back against the seat, his hand pressing against his chest as if trying to stop the ache. For the first time, he whispers into the silence, voice hoarse and barely audible, "I'm sorry, Alina."
When Alina walked back into the kitchen, the world felt strangely quieter. The lights were still on that same soft golden hue that once made everything feel a little warmer, a little safer. But now it only made the emptiness sharper. Her steps slowed. The first thing she noticed was the dining table. The plates were set. Steam still rose from the food. He had served everything perfectly, carefully, just like always. But…
He wasn't there. Her eyes moved slowly, scanning every corner near the sink, near the counter, even toward the doorway. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a shadow. Her breath caught. He left. She wasn't expecting this. Not after that. Not after everything that had hung in the air between them only moments ago, those questions, those unspoken emotions that trembled at the edge of something neither of them dared to name.
She blinked, trying to steady herself, trying to make sense of what just happened. Her mind couldn't keep up. He came here, cooked for her, served the food, He listened. But he didn't speak. And then he left. No words. No goodbye. No explanation. Just… gone.
She didn't understand why it hurt this much. She shouldn't have cared. But her heart felt heavy like she'd lost something without realizing she had it. The food on the table smelled good. He must've cooked it while she was in the bath.
She remembered the moment before how close they were, how her questions filled the air like fragile glass, how his silence spoke louder than words ever could. And then the phone rang. And just like that, everything broke. Now, the kitchen stood still, only the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the silence.