Velithra lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.The room was dark except for the soft glow of the streetlight seeping through her curtains.
Hours had passed since she'd left Kai at the hill. They hadn't said much afterward — just a few quiet words before parting ways. But now, in the quiet of her room, his voice kept looping in her mind.
You don't have to pretend with me.You don't have to be fine.
Simple words. But they cut deeper than anything she'd heard in a long time.
Her hand twitched against the bedsheet, restless. She hated how his words echoed, how his eyes had lingered on her like he could see through every wall she'd built.
For so long, her silence had been armor. But Kai—he didn't just look past it. He touched it.
Velithra rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Outside, the sound of distant cars drifted through the night. Somewhere far off, laughter echoed — another reminder that the world kept moving, even when she couldn't.
Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand. She hesitated before reaching for it.
Kai:Did you make it home okay?
Her lips parted slightly. She typed back, fingers hovering.
Yeah. You?
Kai:Yeah. Just wanted to check.
A pause. Then another message appeared.
Kai:I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean to make things worse.
Velithra stared at the screen. He didn't sound like the Kai everyone else saw at school — confident, sharp, untouchable. He sounded… human.
You didn't. she typed slowly. You just… surprised me.
Kai:Good surprise or bad one?
Her heart gave a small, traitorous jolt.
I don't know yet.
There was a longer pause this time. Then:
Kai:Fair enough. Sleep, Velithra. You look like someone who forgets how to rest.
She almost smiled — almost.
Goodnight, Kai.
Kai:Night.
The screen dimmed, and she lay there again in the half-dark, the faint hum of her phone fading into the quiet.
But sleep didn't come easily. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him — the way he'd looked at her on that hill, steady and unafraid, like he already knew the parts of her she couldn't name.
For the first time in years, the silence around her didn't feel like loneliness.It felt like the space before something began.