Chapter 36: The Weight of Silence
The night was as still as the breath before a storm.
Aria stood by the window, her fingertips barely grazing the cold glass, as if trying to draw strength from the city glittering far below. Every distant light shimmered like a forgotten memory, pulsing faintly in time with the ache in her chest. The room behind her was silent—but it wasn't empty. Not anymore.
It had been five days since Selene's blood dried on her hands.
Five days since Aria had felt something ancient rip through her soul and mend flesh like it was silk. Since light had poured out of her—not warm, not soft, but bright and terrifying. Five days since she'd looked into Selene's eyes and realized nothing between them could remain the same.
She hadn't slept much since.
The energy within her never truly rested. It curled in her belly like a sleeping serpent, its breath humming through her bones, its presence constant and undeniable. She didn't understand it, not fully. But she knew now—it was hers. And it had always been waiting.
The silence in the room shifted, subtle as a change in wind.
She knew Selene was behind her before she turned. She felt her presence, that particular gravity only Selene carried. The quiet kind of power that didn't demand space, but stole it anyway.
"Couldn't sleep again?" Selene's voice was low and calm, a brush of velvet in the dark.
Aria startled slightly, but didn't answer. Instead, she folded her arms and kept her gaze on the horizon. Her voice, when it came, was soft. "The quiet's too loud."
Selene walked closer. Barefoot, as always—silent, sharp elegance wrapped in moonlight. Aria felt her behind her now, close enough that the heat from her body tingled against Aria's back. She was a wall of calm. Solid, unmovable. And maddening.
"You've barely said two words to me since that night," Selene murmured. "I'm starting to think you're avoiding me."
"I'm not," Aria said too quickly—too defensively. She winced at her own tone. "I just… I don't know what to say."
"That would be a first," Selene teased. "You usually can't shut up."
Aria turned her head sharply, a flash of indignation rising in her cheeks—then instantly regretted it when she met Selene's smirk. Her pulse fluttered. "I—! That's not true."
Selene arched a single brow, slow and devastating. "You're adorable when you're flustered."
"I am not flustered."
"You're blushing."
Aria opened her mouth, closed it again, and bit her bottom lip. She hated that Selene could see right through her. Hated it—and secretly, secretly—loved it. It made her feel real. Tangible.
Selene's smirk softened as she stepped beside her, arms crossing as they both faced the night. The silence stretched between them again, but this time it was heavy with something electric. Something unsaid but felt.
"Five days," Selene said after a moment. "And you still haven't asked me what really happened to you."
Aria glanced sideways. "Would you have told me?"
Selene was quiet. Then, "No. Probably not."
Aria exhaled a shaky breath, a small laugh escaping. "That's comforting."
Selene tilted her head, studying her profile. "You weren't ready. Maybe you still aren't."
"I'm not a child."
"No," Selene said, voice lower now, thoughtful. "You're not."
The way she said it made Aria's heart race.
Selene leaned in slightly, her voice a murmur near her ear. "But you are still mine to protect."
Aria turned fully now, face burning. "You don't get to say that like it means nothing."
Selene blinked, surprised by the intensity in Aria's voice.
"I'm not something you can keep in a box and guard from the world. I healed you. I felt it—I felt you. You can't act like none of it matters."
Selene didn't speak at first. Instead, she stepped closer—just enough for their forearms to brush. Her voice was quieter when it came.
"It matters. More than you know."
"Then why are you acting like I'm just some duty to you?"
Selene stilled.
And then she laughed—quiet, almost pained. "Oh, Aria. You stopped being my duty a long time ago."
The words sent a jolt through Aria. She looked up at Selene, caught off guard by the rawness in her expression.
Selene's hand rose, brushing back a loose strand of Aria's hair, her knuckles grazing the curve of her cheek. "Do you really not see what you've done to me?"
Aria froze under the touch. Her body was fire and her mind was fog. "Selene…"
"I've spent years building walls so high even I couldn't see over them. And in one breath—one impossible breath—you tore them down."
The air between them buzzed, a thread pulled too tight.
"You think I'm scared of your power?" Selene whispered. "I'm not. I'm scared of what you've already done to me."
Aria's eyes widened. Her blush deepened, blooming across her neck.
"I didn't mean to—"
"But you did," Selene interrupted gently. "You're changing everything."
They stood that way for a long time, neither of them daring to move. Finally, Aria whispered, "I don't know how to be this person. The one you think I am."
"You don't have to know how," Selene replied. "You just have to be."
Aria let the words settle inside her, feeling them take root.
After a long pause, she said, "Do you ever get tired of being so cryptic?"
Selene's mouth curved. "Do you ever get tired of pretending not to like it?"
Aria flushed again, this time unable to look away. "Maybe."
"That sounded suspiciously like a yes."
"I hate you," Aria mumbled, though her smile betrayed her.
Selene leaned in—slow, deliberate, eyes fixed on her mouth. "Liar."
Their breath mingled. And for one suspended moment, Aria thought she would kiss her.
But Selene pulled back.
Not far—just enough to let the space between them stretch again, electric and torturous.
"I told you once," Selene murmured, "that the world doesn't wait. Neither do I."
Aria swallowed hard. "So what now?"
Selene looked at her with a fire that burned slow and dangerous. "Now you decide if you're going to rise… or run."
The choice hung in the air like a blade.
Aria took a trembling breath. "Then I rise."
Selene's gaze darkened with something unreadable. She didn't smile this time. She simply said, "Good."
Outside, the wind howled faintly, brushing against the windows with the warning of storms to come.
Inside, Aria was no longer just a girl.
She was the fracture and the fire. The girl who would heal or destroy.
And for the first time, as Selene stepped closer and brushed her fingers—casually, infuriatingly—along Aria's wrist, she smiled.
A real one.
"I still think you blush too easily," she teased.
And Aria, pink-cheeked and glowing, answered without thinking:
"Shut up."
Selene's laughter—soft, rare, and breathtaking—filled the space between them.
The silence was gone. And in its place: them.
Fractured. Becoming. Unstoppable.