3. The First Taste of Her Pain

Fri, 15 May 2026 12:51:14 +0000

Kael didn’t return the next night. Or the one after. Or the one after that. At first, Elara told herself it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. He had warned her. Told her exactly what he was. Told her what would happen if she stayed. So this— This silence— was the safest version of the story. Then why did it feel like something had been left unfinished? By the fourth night, she was back on the rooftop. Same place. Same cold railing beneath her hands. The same sky that didn’t care whether she was there or not. But the quiet had changed. It wasn’t still. It was waiting. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “You met a monster, and now you’re upset he didn’t come back.” It sounded ridiculous. It didn’t feel that way. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her breath caught. She didn’t turn right away. “Neither should you,” she said softly. A pause. “I told you to forget me.” Now she turned. Kael stood near the far edge, where the shadows held him more easily. Not close. Not like before. Like, distance was intentional now. “You didn’t come,” she said. Something moved across his expression—quick, unreadable. “I wasn’t going to.” “But you did.” “…Yes.” “Why?” He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it was quieter than before. “I wanted to see if you were still here.” Something about that felt heavier than it should have. “You thought I wouldn’t be?” “I thought…” He paused. “…you didn’t seem like someone who stays.” That settled somewhere uncomfortable. “I’m still here,” she said. “I can see that.” Silence stretched again. But this time, it held tension. “Did you try to stay away?” she asked. A quiet breath left him. “You don’t know how close I came.” “To what?” “To not come back at all.” Elara tilted her head slightly. “Then why didn’t that work?” His gaze lifted to hers. Steadier this time. “Because I can still feel you.” Something in her chest tightened. “What does that mean?” “It means that even when I leave…” he said slowly, “I don’t leave completely.” Her stomach turned. “That doesn’t make sense.” “It doesn’t have to.” She hesitated. “…Then what am I feeling right now?” He stepped closer. Careful. Measured. “Lonely,” he said. Her throat tightened. “Not loud,” he added. “Not obvious. Just… there.” She looked away. “…Stop.” “You asked.” “I didn’t ask you to say it like that.” A pause. “You missed me.” Her chest ached. “I barely know you.” “That’s not an answer.” She exhaled sharply. “You’re very sure of yourself.” “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m aware.” That irritated her. “Fine,” she said. “Maybe I did. You’re the only person who’s actually noticed I exist in weeks.” The words slipped out before she could pull them back. Kael stilled. “…Weeks?” “It doesn’t matter.” “It does.” “I said it doesn’t.” “You’re lying.” Her chest tightened again. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “I don’t.” Too fast. Too clean. “Then stop acting as you do.” Something in his expression shifted. “With you, I don’t have to act,” he said. “Then what is this?” A breath. Tighter now. “This is restraint.” That word landed differently. “From what?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He moved. Closed the distance. This time, he didn’t stop. Elara’s breath caught. He was close enough now that the cold around him felt real. “You need to leave,” he said quietly. “Make me.” The words left her before she could think about them. He went still. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Push like you think I won’t break.” Her heart pounded. “Will you?” That did it. His hand closed around her wrist. And everything shifted. Elara gasped—not from pain. From the absence of it. It started slowly. A pull. Not physical—something deeper. Like threads loosening inside her chest, slipping free before she could hold onto them. Every quiet hurt she carried— Every ignored message. Every silence she had learned to accept. It rose— and then it wasn’t hers anymore. “Kael—” His grip tightened. “I told you…” his voice strained, thinner now, “…not to—” But he didn’t let go. His eyes darkened, losing something steady. Losing control. Her knees weakened. Not from pain. From lightness. The weight she had carried for so long— was gone. And in its place— nothing. “Stop,” she whispered. It didn’t sound like her. That was what broke him. His hand dropped instantly. Elara stumbled back, her hand flying to her chest. “What… was that?” she said, breath uneven. Kael stepped back like he’d been pulled out of something he couldn’t control. “I lost control.” Her heart raced. But something was wrong. The ache was gone. Completely. “…Kael.” He looked at her. “I can’t feel it.” A flicker of real fear crossed his face. “What?” “The loneliness,” she said. “It’s not there anymore.” Silence. Heavy—but not the same as before. Different. Worse. “I didn’t take all of it,” he said quickly. “I stopped.” “But it’s gone.” Her voice felt distant—even to herself. “Why is it gone?” Because something else had taken its place. Not relief. Not peace. Just— absence. Kael ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before forcing himself still. “This is why I told you to stay away.” Elara looked at him. Something in her chest tried to react. It didn’t. “Give it back,” she said. His expression faltered. “I can’t.” Her breath hitched—out of instinct, not feeling. “What do you mean, you can’t?” “I don’t return what I take.” Panic should have followed. It didn’t. That scared her more. “You took part of me.” “Yes.” “Then fix it.” “I don’t know how.” The honesty landed harder than anything else. Elara sank slowly, her back against the cold concrete. “I feel…” she stopped. Searching. “…nothing.” Kael didn’t move. Didn’t try to come closer. For the first time, he looked like he didn’t trust himself to exist near her at all. And somewhere deep inside that hollow space— something shifted. Not pain. Not sadness. Something quieter. Colder. Detachment. ---