Onyx's Pov:
*The quiet crackle of the fire is the only sound in the small, warm kitchen. I sit on a stool, my hands twisting a clean, white dishrag into a tight knot. My knuckles are white. I watch Father's back as he moves with his usual practiced grace, his broad shoulders tense even as he slices carrots with a rhythmic, steady motion. The scent of woodsmoke and earthy vegetables fills the air, a stark contrast to the cold memory of the forest.*
*He's trying to pretend nothing happened. He's trying to build a wall between that moment of terror and this one of domesticity. But I can't. The questions have been burning a hole in my chest since he first pulled me from the estate *
*I take a shaky breath, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.* "Father," *I say, my voice barely a whisper.* "I... I am sorry for our fight." *I squeeze the rag so hard it feels like it might tear apart in my hands.* "But..."
*The words hang in the air between us, fragile and sharp. I force them out, the knot in my chest tightening with each syllable.* "But why did it take you so long to save me? Why?" *My voice cracks on the last word, a raw plea that echoes my inner turmoil. It wasn't just about the physical time; it was the feeling of being abandoned, of watching his face as the kidnappers dragged me away, the shock and horror in his eyes, but not... not fast enough. Not powerful enough.*
*He pauses. The rhythmicthump-thump-thumpof the knife against the cutting board stops abruptly. He doesn't turn around, but his entire body goes still, a statue carved from tension. For a long moment, the only sound is the fire and my own ragged breathing. I can see the muscles in his back bunch and shift, a silent, contained storm. He sets the knife down gently, the softclink*
*My frustration boils over, hot and sharp. I can't stand this silence, this wall he's putting between us. I leap off the stool, my stool scraping loudly against the floorboards. I march right in front of him, forcing him to stop, placing myself between him and the large wooden table, blocking his escape. I need to see his face. I need to understand.*
"Father, please," *I beg, my voice trembling. The tears I've been holding back finally spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.* "Answer me. Why did it take you so long to save me? I have been through so much," *I whisper, the words a painful echo of the truth. I can see his hands, his knuckles white as he grips the edges of the table, his fingers digging into the wood. He's a coiled spring, ready to snap, but he won't look at me. And that silence is a louder answer than any words could be.*
*The frustration and fear that had been coiling in my gut finally snap. I can't stand this distance, this wall he's built between us with his silence. I need to break through it, to reach the man I know is in there somewhere. I step forward, closing the small distance between us, my hands outstretched, trembling slightly from a mix of cold and emotion.*
*I reach up, my fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. My touch is hesitant at first, a question. Then, gathering my courage, I cup his cheeks in my palms. His skin is warm, but the muscles beneath are as hard as stone. I stroke his cheek with my thumb, a gentle, soothing motion I've seen him use on me a thousand times, but have never dared to use on him.*
"Papa," *I whisper, the word softer, more intimate than 'Father'. It's a word from a time before all this pain, a word that holds a lifetime of love and safety.*
Inari's Pov:
*Her touch... it's like a brand against my skin, searing through the cold, hard shell I've built around myself. The pet name, 'Papa,' is a direct strike to the heart, a sound I haven't heard in years, not with that particular, broken tone of pleading. It unravels me. My hands, clenched so tightly on the edge of the table that my knuckles are bone-white, begin to tremble. The fight drains out of me, replaced by a profound, weary exhaustion that settles deep in my bones.*
*Slowly, agonizingly slowly, I let go of the table. The wood groans in protest as my fingers relax. I turn my head just enough to press my cheek into her palm, a gesture of submission, of surrender. My eyes, which I have kept fixed on the grain of the wood, finally lift to meet hers. They are no longer the cold, unreadable orbs of the Jinko.*
Onyx's Pov:
*My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch him. The fight drains from his shoulders, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that seems to age him a decade. He lets out a long, slow sigh, a sound that carries the weight of the world. Then, he moves. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he turns his face into my hand, his rough stubble scraping against my skin. He takes my hand in his, his calloused fingers wrapping gently around my wrist, and presses my palm more firmly against the warm skin of his cheek.*
*His eyes, when they finally meet mine, are no longer cold or distant. They are filled with a raw, painful honesty that makes my breath catch. He's not looking at me as a Lord or a Jinko, but as a father who has failed his child. And in that gaze, I see the answer to my question before he even speaks a word. It's not an excuse, not a justification. It's just the truth, laid bare between us.*
Inari's Pov:
*Her hand is warm against my cheek, a small anchor in the storm raging within me. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the simple, grounding sensation of her touch chase away the phantom images of the forest—the scent of damp earth and blood, the sound of her terrified cries, the cold, calculating eyes of the men who took her.*
*When I open them again, I see the pain and confusion still clouding her features, a desperate plea for an answer. I can't give her the simple one she wants. There is no simple reason for failure.*
*I take a slow, steadying breath, the air feeling thick and heavy in my lungs. My voice, when it comes, is low and rough, stripped of all its usual authority.* "Onyx..." *I begin, the name a familiar ache in my throat.*" I have been searching for you trust me, I have been through so much pain, done things, I thought I could never do, Even bought this small cottage at the outskirt of the city , to make my search easier. it was tough, I won't lie at some point I gave up, I thought you were dead, I wanted to kill my self, but i was a coward to even do so. I was so miserable these past 2 years. A frnd I made at the city, wanted to cheer me up , so through a friend, who knows a frnd , who knows a frnd, somehow invited me to the party and by some miracle, I found you" .
Onyx's Pov:
*His words hit me like a physical blow. Each one is a nail in the coffin of my own guilt. He thought I was dead. The image of him, alone, thinking that... it's a pain I can barely comprehend. And then... he wanted to kill himself. The thought of my strong, unshakeable Papa feeling that kind of despair... because of me. It's a weight I can't carry. I remember seeing him at the market, how gaunt he looked, the hollows of his cheeks, the dullness in his usually vibrant eyes. ,Because he thought he had lost me forever.*
*The dam I've been holding back breaks. A choked sob escapes my lips, and then another, until I'm a trembling, weeping mess. Hot, guilty tears stream down my face, blurring his image.* "I'm sorry,"
*The sound of his own voice breaking, a raw, shattered sound I've never heard before, cuts through my grief. It's a mirror to my own pain. He's not just comforting me anymore; he's falling apart with me. His arms, which have always been my sanctuary, tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer as if he's afraid I'll vanish if he lets go for even a second. I can feel his body tremble against mine, a silent, shared earthquake of sorrow.*
*He pulls back just enough to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking away the tears on my cheeks. His touch is tender, but his eyes are still overflowing, a sight so profoundly strange and heartbreaking it steals my breath away. This is my father, the pillar of strength, the unmovable Jinko, and he is crying for me.*
*He whispers, his voice thick with emotion,* "Oh, my little one."
*His words, though spoken with a strength that doesn't quite match the tremor in his voice, are a balm to my frayed nerves.* "Don't worry, you're safe now. I will never let go."
*He repeats the promise, this time wiping his own tears away with the back of his hand before gently brushing the wet tracks from my cheeks. His touch is firm, grounding me in the present.* "Don't cry, it will be alright. I am here for you, OK? . why dont you rest as i cook the stew?."
*He forces a smile, a valiant attempt to return to the roles we know, but I can see the effort it takes. The fragile peace we've found is too new, too precious to break. I shake my head, a small, stubborn motion.* "No," *I whisper, my voice still thick with emotion but firm.* "I won't leave you. I want to help."
*He sees the determination in my eyes and the fight leaves his shoulders. He doesn't argue. Instead, a real, genuine smile breaks through the grief, softening the hard lines of his face and making his grey-blue eyes crinkle at the corners. It's a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes yet, but it's a start. It's a promise that we will be okay.*
*He reaches out and gives my shoulders a light, reassuring squeeze, his touch warm and steady.* "Alright," *he says, his voice regaining a fraction of its usual calm authority, though it's still rough around the edges.* "Then chop the carrots. Be careful with the knife."