And then, she'd gone through the horror of meeting with her mother, getting rejected again. One would have thought she had learnt her lesson. She'd nearly lost her life when she collapsed in front of the gate.
When Kiara opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was the flicker of firelight. She was warm, tucked beneath a soft blanket. For a disoriented moment, she wondered if she was dreaming. She was dressed in fresh clothes, the pain of the surgery all but gone. She even touched the scar to ensure she wasn't hallucinating. Angelina had been a darling, doing the surgery while she'd passed out. Kiara was grateful to her in more ways than one. She owed her a favour, which she planned to return as soon as she figured out where she was and thanked her saviour. Then a voice—deep, familiar, impossible—broke through her haze. No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't. Certainly, she had to be dreaming. Years apart must have made puberty and adulthood change that voice but she could recognise it anywhere.
"Hey. Take this."
A mug of hot chocolate appeared before her, held by strong, steady hands. Kiara blinked, her breath catching as she looked up into the face she thought she'd never see again.
Kyle.
Her twin brother. Her other half, stolen from her in childhood. The boy who had been taken from the park all those years ago, the boy whose absence had hollowed her life. Now, a man sat before her, older, sharper, but still him.
Her lips trembled. "Kyle?"
He smiled softly, though there was pain in his eyes. "It's me, honey."
Tears spilled down Kiara's cheeks as she took the mug, her hands shaking. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to demand answers, to never let him go again. Instead, she whispered, "Thank you."
She sipped the chocolate, the warmth seeping through her broken body, and placed the mug carefully on the stool beside her. Her eyes never left his face. He also kept his eyes on hers, words unable to say what their eyes conveyed. Kiara looked into his and saw a reflection of herself-pain, hurt and sorrow etched deeply into her very being. He didn't seem to have any thoughts as his eyes only showed what Kiara was feeling.
He collected the mug from her when it was empty and brought her some food. Kiara shook her head when he brought it but Kyle gave her no opportunity to refuse. He just kept looking at her until she gave in. Her hand shook, unable to lift the fork to her lips
Kyle collected it from her and fed her himself. The first few spoons were tasteless but she kept swallowing. Kyle was very patient with her and fed her every single spoon.
After the meal, they just resumed their silence, both comfortable with the company of each other.
"So… what now?" she asked, her voice raw.
Kyle leaned back, his gaze steady, his tone calm yet commanding. "Now, we get you back in shape. Then we plan. For now, just focus on healing. I'll handle the rest."
For the first time in years, Kiara felt a fragile spark of safety. Not happiness—no, she was far from that—but safety. She nodded slowly, clutching the blanket tighter around her.
And for the first time in months, she allowed herself to close her eyes without fear.