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The world was drowning in rain.
And so were the cathedral grounds.
She shouldn’t have come.
The fever from too many sleepless nights still burned behind her eyes, making the world shimmer like a mirage. Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion from the morning’s long battle against the bandits north of the monastery. Every breath scorched her chest—but still, she had come. Because he was here. And because he was feeding ghosts instead of himself.
Her footsteps echoed through the long corridor that led toward the ruin where he stood.
“Dimitri,” she called softly, setting down the warm food she'd dragged herself across the monastery to make. It steamed gently beside him. Pointless.
“You need to eat something.”
He didn’t look at her.
Didn’t even twitch.
Just kept staring at the altar like it held a truth he could punish himself with until he forgot everything else.
“Dimitri—” she reached out, brushing the edge of his cloak with the tip of her fingers.
He flinched, like he’d just realized she was there, and turned to her with a voice like gravel and danger.
“What do you want?”
Finally—his voice.
But it wasn’t kind.
“I came to check on you,” she said again, quieter now. “You need to eat something. It’s been days—”
“Go away.” He cut her off sharply and turned back to the broken pillar. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know you didn’t,” she whispered. “But pushing me away won’t fix—”
“I said go.”
Cold. Dismissive.
He still wouldn’t look at her.
She exhaled slowly. Her voice cracked, barely audible.
“I didn’t come because you asked.”
A pause. Soft. Barely above the rain. Like she was afraid the words might break something.
“I came because I love you.”
That was when he finally turned.
That once-soft, sky-colored eye locked onto hers—blue as the sky he no longer believed in, vacant, sharp, and hollow.
“I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity—”
“It is.” His voice was quiet now. Flat. Dead.
“That’s all it’s ever been—some twisted sense you kept calling love. I don’t need it.”
Then silence.
Long and thick.
Until he turned back again and mumbled something to the altar—soft, broken things meant only for the dead.
She wasn’t even in the room anymore.
Not to him.
Something inside her cracked.
Her hands trembled. Her vision blurred—not from the fever this time, but from heat that had nothing to do with her skin.
Back to the academy days—
When the world was smaller. Brighter.
When the corridors still held laughter, and sunlight spilled gently through the chapel windows instead of rain.
When his eyes were still both bright. And he would glance at her during lectures like she was the only thing tethering him to sanity.
They never said it. Never named it.
It was courtship hidden in silence.
Flirting through stolen glances and shared books.
Late-night talks that wandered into philosophy, then memories, then soft, accidental confessions that lingered between breaths—sealed with kisses stolen in dark corners at every possible chance.
They were never lovers in name.
But in everything else—they had already fallen.
And now—
That same man wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Wouldn’t believe her love was real.
Would rather talk to ghosts than let her stay.
Her throat tightened.
Because that soft-eyed prince who once blushed when their fingers brushed under the library desk—he was gone.
And the man who stood here now didn’t believe anyone could love him for who he was, let alone her.
Especially her.
She turned without a word.
Didn’t take the tray back like she usually did. Didn’t wait for him to change his mind.
Her steps echoed fast and uneven down the corridor, almost a run. But she didn’t care how she looked.
No one cared.
Not even the man she cared for the most.
The sound of her steps faded behind her, swallowed by the cathedral’s hollow throat.
And the moment she crossed the threshold, the rain greeted her like grief made liquid—cold, relentless, and far too familiar. It blurred the cathedral steps beneath her, soaked through every thread on her body, and drowned the last of her dignity in silence.
The courtyard spun under her feet, the wind slicing through her body. She half-ran down the steps, across the stone—like she could outrun his words.
And then—her foot caught.
She stumbled.
Fell hard.
The shock knocked the breath from her lungs. Her scraped palms hit the slick stone, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there—shivering. Defeated.
Something warm slipped down her cheek. Then another. And another.
Until the tears became a downpour, lost in the rain.
She sat hunched, arms wrapped tight around her knees, forehead pressed to skin—crying in a way that didn’t need sound anymore.
Tired. Broken.
The kind of crying that comes after you’ve done everything right and still lost. After loving someone who only saw ghosts in his eye.
The rain poured harder. The cold sank into her bones, but she didn’t move.
She couldn’t tell where the physical ache ended and the heartbreak began.
Everything blurred. The world. Her thoughts.
Even the reason she’d stayed so long.
She hadn’t wanted much.
Just for him to see her. Really see her. Just once.
But maybe that was the cruelest wish of all.
Several minutes passed.
Maybe hours.
She didn’t quite care.
The cold had settled deep into her bones, but she didn’t move.
Her limbs felt too heavy. Her chest, too hollow.
The rain drummed against her back, relentless—like it was trying to wash her away altogether.
And she let it.
Let it soak through to her skin, her soul—anything still clinging to reason.
Then—
arms.
Strong. Sudden. A body against hers. Lifting her.
She gasped. Panicked.
For a split second, she thought she was being dragged away.
“What—!” Her voice cracked. She twisted in the hold, struggling. “Let me go! Who—”
But the arms didn’t let go.
They only pulled her closer.
A familiar figure, the scent of dried blood, old sweat. The fur-lined cloak was damp with rain, but still unmistakably his.
Dimitri.
She blinked rain from her eyes—and saw him.
His face close. Wet hair clinging to his forehead. His lone blue eye shadowed by something vast and voiceless.
Her breath caught.
Then twisted into rage.
She shoved at his chest with trembling hands. “Let go of me!”
Her fists hit his armor—again, and again.
Not hard. Not coherent.
Just a flurry of everything she couldn’t say.
“You said I was pity—just pity—so don’t act like you care now!”
She struck him again. And again. But it was like hitting a mountain.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.
“I said—let me go!” Her voice broke. “Isn’t that what you want?
You never loved me. You never cared.
So why? Why now? Why...”
She wasn’t shouting.
She was cracking.
And somewhere between the sobs and the shaking, her fists slowed.
She tried to pull away.
But her strength had already left her.
Her body sagged—slumped against his chest, trembling. Still crying.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just held her.
Gently enough to let her sob. Firmly enough not to let her fall again.
The words tangled in her throat and collapsed there—
Like she did, seconds later.
Fever and grief pulled her under.
And as her lashes fluttered closed, she didn’t hear him say sorry.
Because he didn’t.
But his arms never wavered.
Even as her consciousness slipped away.
There, in the middle of the rain-soaked courtyard—
he held her as if he could shield her from everything he’d ever said.
As if silence could unmake the hurt.