Chapter 5 – Cracks in the Armor

The night was deep and quiet, the kind of silence that stretched endlessly, swallowing every sound. The faint crackling of the fire in the other room was the only noise Adrian could hear. Sleep refused to come, leaving him trapped in the hollow space between exhaustion and restless thought.

He turned his head slightly, catching sight of the dim glow seeping through the doorway. His body still ached from weakness, but something in him stirred with curiosity.

Slowly, he pushed the blanket aside and got up, careful not to make a sound. When he stepped into the small living area, he saw her sitting near the fire, her hands idly threading a piece of fabric. Her head was tilted downward, her expression peaceful as she worked, and from her lips, a soft hum carried through the air.

It wasn’t a song he recognized, but there was something soothing about it. It reminded him of something distant—something warm.

She must have sensed his presence because she looked up, her eyes meeting his. She didn’t startle, didn’t ask why he was awake. Instead, she just gave him a quiet, knowing smile and returned to her work.

For a moment, Adrian stood there, uncertain. He had expected her to fill the silence with words, to pry into his thoughts like so many others had before. But she didn’t.

With a sigh, he finally stepped forward and settled himself in the chair across from her.

Neither of them spoke.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adrian sat beside someone without the weight of expectation pressing on him. It was just them, the fire, and the quiet.

And somehow, it was enough.

***

Morning came with the scent of something warm drifting through the air. Adrian blinked groggily, his body still protesting every movement, but the unfamiliar aroma pulled him from sleep.

When he finally forced himself out of bed, he found her in the kitchen, pouring a steaming liquid into a small wooden cup. The scent of herbs and honey filled the space, making his stomach clench with hunger.

She looked up at him, offering the cup without hesitation. “Here. It’ll help.”

Adrian eyed it warily. “What is it?”

“A herbal tonic. Helps with recovery.”

He hesitated. He had learned long ago not to trust things so easily offered. But then he caught the way she watched him—not with impatience, not with expectation, just quiet assurance.

Reluctantly, he took the cup and lifted it to his lips. The warmth spread through his body instantly, and to his surprise, the taste wasn’t unpleasant. Sweet with a hint of spice, soothing against his dry throat.

She smiled slightly when she saw him take another sip. “See? Not so bad.”

Adrian set the cup down, watching her as she moved around the small kitchen with ease, preparing food. There was something almost graceful about the way she worked, her hands knowing exactly where everything belonged.

For the first time, he found himself wondering about her.

“How long have you lived here?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

She glanced at him, surprised but pleased that he was asking. “A few years now. It’s quiet, but I don’t mind.”

Adrian nodded slowly, absorbing the words.

Quiet. Peaceful. A life that had nothing to do with the one he had lost.

For the first time in years, he wondered what it would feel like to belong to something like this.

Later that day, Adrian found himself watching her again—this time from the shaded corner of the yard.

She was tending to the goats, brushing their fur with slow, careful movements. A soft breeze carried the scent of fresh hay through the air, mingling with the earth beneath their feet.

Adrian had never cared for animals before. His world had been filled with power, business, and expectations. He had never stopped to think about the simplicity of life beyond it.

But she belonged to this world in a way he never could.

He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed when she stumbled. One moment, she was reaching for something, and the next, she lost her balance, falling forward.

Before he could think, Adrian moved.

His arms caught her before she could hit the ground, pulling her against him. It was instinctive—his body reacting before his mind could stop it.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Her hands clutched his shirt, her face inches from his. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck, the rapid beat of her pulse.

Her eyes met his, startled but not afraid.

And suddenly, Adrian became acutely aware of how close they were. His grip on her waist, the way her body pressed against his—

He stepped back quickly, releasing her as if burned.

She blinked at him, then let out a small laugh, breaking the tension. “Well, at least I know you’ve got good reflexes.”

Adrian didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Because for the first time in years, something had shaken him.

That evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, Adrian found himself outside, sitting beneath the open sky.

The stars above were scattered across the darkness like shattered glass, glimmering faintly against the void.

She found him there, silent and brooding.

Without a word, she sat beside him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Then, after a moment, she finally asked, “Do they still hurt?”

Adrian knew what she meant. The scars. The ones that covered his once-perfect face, the ones that reminded him every day of what he had lost.

He let out a quiet breath. “No.”

She glanced at him, her gaze steady. “Then why do you still flinch when you see your reflection?”

His jaw tightened. No one had ever asked him that. Not like this.

He didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he murmured, “Because the person I see isn’t me.”

She was quiet for a long moment before whispering, “Maybe he is. Just not in the way you expect.”

Adrian didn’t know how to respond to that.

But something about her words lingered.

The night air was colder now, carrying a chill that settled deep in his bones.

She stood up, brushing dust from her skirt. “It’s going to get colder later,” she said, walking toward the door.

Just before she stepped inside, she paused and turned back.

“I left an extra blanket for you. Use it if you need to.”

Adrian let out a quiet scoff. “I don’t need it.”

She smiled knowingly. “Sure.”

And then she was gone, leaving him alone with the firelight.

Adrian stared at the blanket she had left behind.

After a long moment, he finally reached for it.

Maybe, just maybe… he wasn’t as alone as he thought.