The fire had burned low again, casting a soft amber glow over the room. The cabin was quiet now, almost too quiet. Outside, the night held its breath.
Liora sat on the edge of the bed, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hands were still trembling.
Aeron stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched. He hadn't said much since he dragged the man who had hurt her out into the woods. He hadn't told her what he did with him—only that he wouldn't come back.
And Liora hadn't asked.
The silence between them was not cold. It was thick. Heavy with unspoken thoughts and painful memories.
Finally, Aeron spoke.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice quiet, like he was trying not to scare her.
Liora didn't answer right away. She stared down at her lap, then slowly nodded. "I never thought I'd see him again," she whispered. "I used to dream that he'd find me. But it always ended with me dead. Or worse."
Her voice broke, and she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.
Aeron took a hesitant step forward but didn't sit beside her yet. "He won't come back," he said. "I made sure."
She nodded slowly. "I believe you."
The simple truth of her words made something twist in Aeron's chest.
Trust.
He didn't deserve it. And yet, here she was.
Liora looked up at him. "Thank you… for coming back in time."
He lowered himself to the floor in front of her, kneeling, so he could look into her eyes. "I almost didn't. I was seconds away from being too late."
"But you weren't."
He looked at her for a long time. "You could have died tonight."
She gave a small, broken smile. "I've felt dead for years."
"That's not funny, Liora."
"I wasn't joking."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Aeron reached up and gently placed his hand over hers. She didn't pull away.
"Do you want to live?" he asked.
Her breath caught.
"I don't know," she said truthfully. "Some days, yes. Others… no. It's like part of me still wants to believe that happiness is real. That love is real. But another part is still trapped in that house. In that nightmare."
He nodded slowly. "I understand."
She studied his face. "Do you?"
Aeron looked down. "I was ten when I watched my father die. My mother smiled while she stabbed him. I loved him. He was kind. Good. Loyal. And she… she destroyed him."
Liora blinked slowly. "That's why you—?"
"Yes," he cut in. "That's why I hated women like her. The beautiful ones who used their beauty to ruin men. I thought if I could destroy them, I could destroy what she did to me."
She exhaled shakily. "But I'm beautiful too."
He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Yes. But you're not like them."
"How do you know?"
"Because when I saw you cry, I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. That never happened before. Not with anyone."
Liora stared at him, her chest aching with something unfamiliar—hope.
"I was your target," she said softly.
He nodded. "I still remember the day I saw you in the alley. You looked like someone ready to die. But something about your eyes… it stopped me."
Her voice trembled. "You did hurt me, Aeron."
"I know," he said, shame washing over his face. "And I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
She reached out slowly, brushing his cheek with the back of her fingers. "I don't know what this is between us. But it doesn't feel wrong."
He leaned into her touch.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"Maybe we're both too broken for anyone else. But not for each other."
He looked up at her again. The firelight danced in her eyes. He had never seen her look so strong — even while she was shaking.
"Come here," she whispered, opening the blanket.
He stood and sat beside her on the bed, letting her wrap the warmth around them both.
They didn't kiss.
They didn't touch more than their shoulders.
But the closeness, the safety of that small space, was more intimate than anything Aeron had ever known.
"You're not alone anymore," she said softly.
"Neither are you," he replied.
She laid her head on his shoulder, and for the first time in years, she fell asleep with a sense of peace.
Aeron stayed awake, watching the door, guarding her dreams.
Because for the first time in his life, he had something — someone — worth protecting.