Tristan glanced curiously at Aria, who stood quietly at the stove, cooking. He placed a stack of firewood on the ground, his eyes still on her.
Behind him, Rayan arrived with another stack of wood and a basket filled with fresh vegetables and fruit. The moment he saw Tristan watching Aria, his face darkened.
He didn't like it—not because Tristan meant harm, but because he didn't want anyone dragging Aria into his world.
"Tristan," Rayan called, stepping in front of him.
"Yes, My Lord!" Tristan responded quickly, standing at attention as if ready to take orders.
"Stop staring at her. You're making her uncomfortable."
Tristan blinked, confused, but nodded. "Oh... alright." He turned his gaze to the walls of the hut instead.
Rayan left him there and moved to Aria's side. Sitting near her, he began pulling vegetables from the basket.
Aria glanced at him, then quickly looked away. She didn't speak, but her silence carried the weight of something deeper. Rayan didn't notice—he was focused on helping.
"Should I cut them like this?" he asked, holding up the vegetables and pointing.
She nodded without a word.
Satisfied, Rayan kept working, quietly copying the way she had chopped hers.
Tristan, who had been scanning the hut, turned and saw the scene. His jaw dropped.
"My Lord! Why are you doing that? Let me help!"
He rushed over, trying to take the knife from Rayan. "You shouldn't be doing this. You have servants to take care of such things. We do this, not you!"
But Rayan pulled the knife away and gave him a stern look.
"Sit down and stay quiet," he ordered.
Tristan hesitated. "But if it's about helping the lady, I—"
"Don't irritate me, Tristan," Rayan said, his tone sharp.
That ended it. Tristan backed away, his heart heavy.
He sat down nearby, almost in tears himself. Watching his proud, powerful master chop vegetables felt like a betrayal of all he'd ever known. Those hands weren't meant for soup—they were meant for swords.
As he sulked, Aria was fighting her own emotions.
She hadn't spoken a word, but inside, her heart was trembling. The moment she saw Tristan standing beside Rayan, she had felt something crack. They looked strong. They spoke the same language. They understood each other.
She felt like an outsider in her own home.
He'll leave soon, she thought. And that's okay. I was alone before. I'll be fine again.
But the more she told herself that, the harder it was to hold back her tears.
She looked down and grabbed some onions. Her hands moved quickly as she began chopping them—too quickly. Tears welled in her eyes, and this time, they weren't from the onions.
Rayan frowned. The soup was already boiling. Did they even need onions?
He didn't ask, not until he saw the tears running down her cheeks.
His expression changed.
Without thinking, he reached out and took the knife from her hand.
"Let me do it," he said gently.
Startled, Aria looked up. He had already started chopping.
After cutting two onions, he looked at her again.
"Do you need more?"
She had wiped her eyes, but they were still red. She stared at him, confused. She hadn't understood his words—but something else puzzled her more.
Why wasn't he crying?
Even her grandmother cried while cutting onions. Everyone did. But not him.
And just like that, she couldn't hold it anymore.
A sob broke from her lips, and tears spilled freely. Rayan froze, eyes wide with concern.
"What... what happened?" he asked, confused and worried.
Tristan, who had been watching from a distance, heard Rayan's voice and rushed over.
"My Lord! What's wrong?"
"I... I don't know," Rayan replied, looking helplessly at Aria. He didn't understand why she was crying.
Panicking, he held out the chopped onions. "Are these wrong? Don't cry—I'll cut new ones."
He grabbed more onions and started chopping again.
But Aria only cried harder.
Rayan stopped, completely at a loss.
She quickly covered her mouth with one hand, wiping her tears with the other. Her shoulders trembled.
That's when Tristan spoke up again. "My Lord… what happened?"
His voice made Aria look up—and when she saw him, the tears came back all over again.
Rayan, who had just started to relax, tensed again. He turned to Tristan with a glare.
"Leave. Now."
Tristan blinked, confused. "But, My Lord—"
"Tristan. Out. Now."
The sharp tone left no room for argument.
Without another word, Tristan turned and ran out of the hut like his tail was on fire.