Elena sat curled on the far end of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, sketchbook open but untouched on her lap. The soft afternoon light spilled through her curtains, but she barely noticed it as she hugged her arms tighter around herself. Her chest still felt strangely heavy from the week—the distance, the silence, the tiredness that had settled deep in her bones.
She thought coming home early today would help her breathe a bit. Maybe she could finally rest. But her mind kept circling the same thoughts… memories she didn't want to remember… and feelings she shouldn't be feeling.
She didn't even notice the quiet footsteps approaching her door until a gentle knock broke the stillness.
"Elena?"
Her breath froze.
Adrian.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to steady her heartbeat, but the knock came again—soft but firm.
"I know you're inside," he said, voice low. "Can I come in?"
She swallowed hard and forced herself to sit up properly. "You… you can."
The door opened slowly, and Adrian stepped inside. He looked different today—tired, thoughtful, and strangely unsure of himself. His eyes scanned her room briefly, then rested on her.
She kept her gaze down.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, he pulled the small chair from her study table and sat in front of her, elbows resting on his knees, his tone gentle but searching.
"Who was that boy?"
Her breath trembled.
So that's why he came.
She forced her voice to sound casual, even though her chest tightened painfully just looking at him.
"A friend," she said quietly. "Just a friend from my university."
Adrian didn't look convinced. His brows drew together as he studied her expression like he wanted to read everything she wasn't saying.
"Just a friend?" he asked again, softer this time.
"Yes." She nodded. "Just a friend."
There was a tension in the air—thin but sharp—like both of them were aware of something they shouldn't feel.
Adrian leaned back slightly, still watching her. "You've been different lately."
Elena's fingers tightened around the edges of her sketchbook.
Different.
Invisible.
Distant.
She didn't correct him.
"You barely talk to anyone," he continued quietly. "You're always outside, always studying, always running somewhere." His voice dropped, sincere in a way that hurt. "It feels like you're avoiding everyone. Avoiding… this house."
She stayed silent.
Because she was avoiding something.
Someone.
Feelings she didn't want to acknowledge.
"Elena," Adrian said even softer, "if you keep living like this… one day, if I leave, you'll regret not spending time with your family."
Her heart jolted painfully.
If I leave.
The words hit her harder than she expected.
But she kept her face emotionless.
Because what was she supposed to say?
Please don't leave?
Your presence affects me more than it should?
I don't understand why seeing you hurts this much?
She said none of it.
"Are you listening?" Adrian pressed gently.
She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes—and for the briefest moment, something in her expression cracked. Something raw. Something she didn't want him to see.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "Really. Just… busy."
His jaw tightened slightly, as if her answer frustrated him in a way he didn't understand.
But he didn't push further.
He stood after a moment, voice softening. "Dinner is almost ready. Come downstairs." Then, in a tone she didn't expect—almost hesitant—he added, "And Elena… if something's wrong, you can tell me."
Her throat tightened painfully.
She managed a small nod, and Adrian finally stepped away, leaving the room heavy with unspoken things.
Dinner felt suffocating.
The long wooden table, usually warm with laughter, felt too big and too bright tonight. Elena sat quietly beside her father while Adrian and Sienna sat across from them. The clinking of cutlery and murmured conversation did little to disguise the tension brewing beneath the surface.
Halfway through the meal, Sienna leaned forward with a smirk, eyes gleaming.
"So, Dad… guess what?" she began sweetly. "Elena has a boyfriend."
Elena's head snapped up in shock. "Sienna, no—he's not—"
"Oh please," Sienna interrupted with a teasing laugh. "We all saw him dropping you off, waving at you like that. And you were smiling so much. I've never seen you smile at anyone like that."
She winked dramatically.
"Elena finally found herself a boy."
Her father raised an eyebrow, surprised but not unkind. "Elena? Is that true?"
"No," Elena said quietly but firmly. "He's just a friend."
Sienna leaned back in her chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Sure. A 'friend.' That's what they all say at first."
Adrian stiffened slightly, glancing between them, expression unreadable. Elena could feel his gaze, but she refused to look up.
The teasing continued, each sentence landing like a small sting.
"It's cute, really," Sienna said brightly. "Our little Elena is growing up. Maybe tomorrow you can introduce him to everyone."
Elena swallowed her hurt and forced herself to stay still. She didn't want to show how much the words bothered her.
Because it wasn't really about the teasing.
It was about the way Sienna said my boyfriend yesterday.
The way she flaunted everything in front of Elena.
The way she made sure Elena always felt small.
"And speaking of tomorrow," Sienna continued excitedly, "our friends are coming! Finally. A full house. A whole week of fun."
Her father nodded approvingly. "The arrangements will be made."
Sienna clapped her hands together and then turned to Elena with another gleeful smile.
"You should invite your friend. And your boyfriend too, of course."
Elena's heart clenched.
Before she could say anything, Sienna added with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, "It'll be such a perfect gathering. Adrian and I will have our group. And you can have yours. It'll be fun."
Elena felt something inside her buckle.
Her fingers trembled under the table. Her throat felt tight, hot, unbearable. She lowered her fork slowly, not trusting herself to speak.
"I'm done," she whispered, barely audible.
And before anyone could respond, she pushed her chair back gently and stood up.
"Elena?" her father called softly.
But she didn't turn around.
She walked out of the dining room quietly, her steps fast but controlled, her chest burning with a pain she was trying desperately to hide.
Behind her, Sienna simply shrugged.
"She'll be fine," she said lightly. "Probably going to text her boyfriend."
But Adrian didn't look convinced.
His eyes remained fixed on the doorway long after Elena disappeared, an uneasy heaviness settling inside him.
Because for the first time…
He realized she was breaking in ways no one else noticed.
And he didn't understand why it hurt him so much to see her walk away.
Adrian lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, the dim room washed in soft shadows. His mind wasn't settling tonight. No matter how he tried to relax, every thought circled back to the dinner table—to Elena's lowering gaze, to the quiet way she slipped out, to the heavy ache in her eyes that she had tried to hide.
He knew she was hurting.
He didn't know why it bothered him so much.
He turned on his side, closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep. But the click of the door opening pulled him from the attempt. Sienna slipped inside with soft, graceful steps, the scent of perfume trailing behind her. She approached the bed without a word and lay beside him, resting her head on his chest as if claiming the space.
He stiffened instantly.
"Sienna…" he said quietly.
"Hmm?" she murmured, snuggling closer.
"I was resting."
"And I'm resting with you," she said lightly, fingers tracing small circles on his shirt.
He gently pulled away and sat up. But she caught his wrist and tugged him back down with a playful scold.
"Adrian, stop acting strange. Come here."
Her possessiveness had grown stronger these days—more clinging, more demanding—and tonight, it felt even heavier.
He exhaled and lay back down reluctantly, letting her rest on him, though the comfort wasn't mutual. Her breathing softened as she relaxed against him, while his chest tightened with unease.
She broke the silence first.
"Today was fun… except your mood." Her tone was teasing, but the edge was unmistakable.
"I'm just tired," he replied simply.
"Hmm." She shifted slightly. "Or maybe you're upset because of Elena?"
At the mention of her name, Adrian's jaw tensed.
"Sienna," he warned gently.
"What?" she asked. "I just asked."
"You need to give her some space," he said quietly. "You were teasing her too much today. You know she doesn't like it."
Sienna lifted her head from his chest immediately, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"Wait…" she said slowly. "You're taking her side?"
He didn't answer.
Because in truth, he wasn't choosing sides—he simply saw something Sienna refused to see.
Elena was fragile tonight.
Lost.
And hurting in a way he didn't understand but couldn't ignore.
Sienna sat up completely now, her expression tightening with irritation.
"I was just joking," she muttered. "She's always so sensitive."
"You hurt her," Adrian replied calmly but firmly.
"So now you're defending her?" Sienna demanded.
He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "Sienna… please. I'm exhausted. Can we talk about this later?"
She stared at him for a long second, something sharp flickering in her eyes, then dropped the argument with a roll of her eyes.
"Fine," she murmured. "Sleep."
But sleep didn't come for him.
Sienna drifted off eventually, breathing steady and slow on the other side of the bed, but Adrian remained awake, lying on his back, staring at the darkness.
He didn't understand why Elena's silence haunted him tonight.
Why the image of her walking away at dinner kept replaying.
Why her eyes felt like they were following him even now.
It was past 2 a.m. when he finally gave up trying to sleep and slipped out of bed quietly so as not to wake Sienna. He walked to the window, needing fresh air, needing clarity, but as he drew the curtains aside, he halted.
A small figure moved through the moonlit garden.
Elena.
Barefoot, wrapped in a soft sweater, her hair loose and glowing under the silver light. She walked slowly through the path of white pebbles, her steps gentle, almost restless. She hugged her elbows as if bracing against a cold only she felt.
Adrian didn't think.
He simply went outside.
The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped into the garden. Dew glistened on the grass. Crickets hummed. And Elena stood near the rose bushes, head tilted to the sky as if seeking answers from the stars.
He approached carefully.
"Elena?"
She turned sharply, startled. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him.
"Oh—Adrian… I didn't expect anyone to be awake."
"I could say the same about you." His voice softened. "Couldn't sleep?"
She hesitated, then shook her head faintly. "No. Just needed air."
He stepped closer, but not too close. Just enough to see her expression clearly in the moonlight.
"You look… sad," he said quietly.
Her lips parted, surprised by his bluntness. She looked away toward the shadows.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
"That's the second time you said that today," he murmured gently. "And both times… it didn't sound true."
Something in her eyes flickered—pain, vulnerability, something deeper she tried to hide with a small forced laugh.
"You worry too much."
"Only when someone matters," he replied before he could stop himself.
The words hung between them, soft but heavy, echoing into the garden air.
Elena's breath hitched. She looked at him fully now, eyes wide, lips parting slightly in a way that struck him harder than he expected.
He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. "I mean—your father asked me to look after you. So… yeah. I worry."
Her gaze dropped at the reminder of boundaries, of roles. He saw her shoulders stiffen slightly.
"Right," she said quietly. "Of course."
But that tremor—barely there—didn't escape him.
She tried to walk past him, but he gently stopped her with a soft call.
"Elena… wait."
She froze but didn't turn around.
The moonlight touched her hair, her shoulders, her stillness—fragile, delicate, breakable.
"Is something wrong?" he asked softly. "You can tell me."
She didn't move.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then she whispered, voice trembling in a way that pierced him—
"Sometimes… it's hard to watch things that aren't meant for you."
Adrian blinked.
A quiet confession.
A soft hint.
A truth hidden inside innocent words.
His chest tightened, breath catching for reasons he didn't want to examine.
"Elena…" he said slowly.
But she shook her head quickly, covering her own mistake.
"Forget it," she whispered. "It doesn't matter."
She stepped away, but her voice came again—soft, breaking, almost pleading—
"Goodnight, Adrian."
And she walked back toward the house, leaving him standing under the moonlight with a single haunting realization tightening around him:
She wasn't just hurting.
She was hurting because of him.
And for the first time, Adrian didn't know if he wanted to face what that meant.