It takes everything in Hillary not to reach for Aria when the soup splashes and burns her skin.
But he crushes the need down. The movement had been too fast, too telling, and before his brain even caught up, the truth of his reaction was already out in the open.
And only later, standing there frozen, hand in in the air, does he realize what he's just done. His chest pounds with dread. His heart beats too loudly in his ears. It says everything he has tried so hard to hide.
The weight of eyes on him.. burning, watching, questioning. His body stiffens. He folds his fingers quickly, leaving only his pointing finger aimed at Aria like a weapon.
"What did you just do? Who sent someone so reckless in here?!" His voice cracks through the dining hall, sharp and commanding, his words rising with insult and accusation. "What if you had burnt my mate!?" he barks, jerking his chin toward Victoria. "Since when are you this careless, Aria? If you're unwell like you look, then stay away from duties like this! Don't bring your weakness where others have to suffer for it!"
The words cut like a blade, and even as he spits them out, they taste like poison in his mouth.
He doesn't dare look at Aria directly. His eyes slide past her, fixating on the wall, the table, anywhere else.
To anyone watching, it might look like he is glaring at her, but he knows the truth.. he cannot look her in the eye.
After those harsh words, he scans the room quickly, his eyes flicking from face to face, desperate to make sure the suspicion has been stamped out.
It's gone now, wiped clean, except for one pair of eyes. Victoria's.
Hillary's heart slams against his ribs. When a servant steps forward with a rag, ready to take care of Aria's spilled mess, he finds something else to wipe the suspicion clean from Victoria.
"Let her clean her own mess. And tell Manager Gregory I don't want reckless people anywhere near places like this!" His voice cuts sharp, final. He forces himself down into his chair, even as Aria kneels and begins to clean, next to Victoria's legs.
When Hillary's gaze finds Victoria again, the suspicion is gone.
In its place sits something like satisfaction. A dark, quiet satisfaction, as if his outburst has given her something she's been starving for.
A breath slips out of him, soft and hidden, but relief doesn't come. His mind won't let go of the scene he just created.
He watches Aria's hands move, feels the weight of every stroke of the rag as though it's grinding against him instead.
The panic sets in slow but merciless. What if this is the moment Aria never forgets? What if he's just sealed the distance between them forever?
A sick heaviness coils in his chest, whispering that forgiveness is now out of reach, and that any chance of closeness with Aria has slipped away for good.
Beside him, Victoria leans in, her voice soft, "Babe, it's okay. I'm fine." She says, as if she's comforting him, but her eyes still glitter faintly with that secret satisfaction.
Hillary forces himself to answer, "It's not okay. She could have burnt you with her recklessness," he says, his tone firm, rehearsed but his hand trembles where it rests on his lap, betraying everything he's trying to suppress.
The walls feel too tight. The air too thin. He can't breathe. "Excuse me," he mutters, pushing back his chair abruptly. His chest heaves as he walks out of the dining hall.
Behind him, his mother's proud voice floats after him, light with nostalgia. "He is so protective of you," she tells Victoria. "He must really love you, it reminds me of our younger days."
His father's mock complaint follows, drawing laughter from the hall. "Younger days? Are you saying I don't show the same love now?"
The room is warm with cheer, with family, with expectation. But Aria is left standing there with her stinging hand, her face pale. The Luna scolds her again before dismissing her back to her duties.
The clatter of dishes and laughter fades as she slips out of the dining hall, and in the hallway, she nearly collides with Hillary.. pacing, steps restless, hands running through his hair.
Without hesitation, he reaches for her arm, trying to pull her into a nearby room, but Aria jerks her arm free, with a force this time.
"You know I didn't do that on purpose, don't you?" His voice comes out raw, almost pleading.
Aria's chest tightens, but she keeps her face calm, "Stop doing this. Anyone could see you. I don't care if it was intentional or not. Why should I? I have nothing to do with you anymore. We broke up, Alpha Hillary. So treat it as that." Her voice shakes, but she forces it steady as she walks past him, her vision swimming.
His breath catches like a punch. "We broke up?! You can't decide that alone, unless I agree too, this is not a break up." he says, following her, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Aria whirls on him, her words sharp, "What, are there break-up papers we're both supposed to sign?"
The line strikes him like lightning. His steps halt mid-stride, his body frozen, his eyes wide in disbelief. She had never spoken to him like that before.
He stares at her, chest rising and falling too quickly, heart burning. Then his face hardens.
"You know what? Alright." His voice lowers, flat but breaking under the weight of fury and pain. "I'm done too. Done following you around like some pathetic desperate man begging for scraps of your attention. Done trying to mend this, trying to show you how much I suffocate without you, how much it rips me apart to feel you slipping further and further away from me. Every minute you push me back, it's like I lose you a little more." His fists clench, his voice sharpens.
"You're mad at me like I create mate bonds. Like I asked for this. Like I have a choice in any of it. You..." his breath catches, "you want to breakup? Fine. Then let's act like there was never anything between us."
He turns sharply, his steps loud against the floor, his back rigid as he strides away, leaving Aria standing there, her throat burning with unshed words, her vision blurring as she watches him walk away from her.