The past few days had shifted something between them. It was subtle, unspoken, but undeniably there.Adrian still found himself wary, still found himself questioning whether he could truly allow someone to get close again. But the girl—she was patient. She didn’t demand anything from him, didn’t push beyond what he was willing to give.And maybe that was why, slowly, bit by bit, his walls were beginning to crack.The sky had darkened since the morning, heavy gray clouds rolling over the village, promising another storm. The wind carried a biting chill, rustling the trees and shaking the fragile wooden fences that lined the small houses.Adrian stood outside the cabin, staring up at the sky. The scent of rain was thick in the air, and he could feel the first few droplets landing on his skin.“You should come inside before the storm gets worse,” her voice came from behind him.He turned slightly, watching as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her concern for him was evid
The storm had passed, but its effects lingered. The sky was still a dull gray, and the wind carried the damp scent of rain-soaked earth. The small village was quiet, as if holding its breath, waiting for the sun to return.Inside the cabin, the warmth of the fire crackled softly, filling the space with a comforting glow. It had been a long night—one that had forced Adrian to acknowledge something he had been avoiding.He wasn’t just surviving anymore.He was beginning to live.Adrian woke to the soft hum of the world outside—birds chirping, the wind gently rustling through the trees. It was a stark contrast to the violent storm from the night before.For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening. It was unfamiliar, this feeling of peace.Then, the scent of something warm and inviting pulled him from his thoughts.His gaze shifted toward the small kitchen, where she was moving quietly, stirring a pot on the stove. The soft morning light framed her, making
The days were beginning to blur together. What once felt like a temporary escape was starting to feel… permanent. Adrian had stopped counting how long he had been in the village. He wasn’t sure if that should concern him, but for now, he let himself exist in this strange, quiet world where—for the first time in years—he wasn’t despised. The girl—his only anchor to this place—had become a presence he no longer avoided. He still wasn’t sure why she cared so much. But each time she looked at him without fear, without disgust, a part of him wanted to believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as monstrous as the world had made him feel. Mornings had become predictable. He would wake up to the sound of her moving around the cabin, the scent of warm tea and bread filling the air. Some days, she would hum softly to herself—a melody that was both soothing and distant, as if it belonged to a memory she rarely shared. Adrian had begun helping her with small tasks—chopping wood, fixing things
Adrian had spent years building walls around himself—thick, impenetrable barriers that kept people out. They had protected him when the world turned against him, when his own family had abandoned him. But lately, those walls were beginning to crack. And it was because of her. He didn’t know when it had started—when he had begun watching her more closely, when the sound of her voice had become something familiar, something comforting. Maybe it was when she had refused to treat him like a monster. Maybe it was when she had laughed with him by the stream. Or maybe it had happened the moment she saw his scars and hadn’t looked away. Either way, the walls were weakening. And that terrified him. The morning was cold, the kind that seeped into the bones and refused to leave. Adrian sat by the fire, his hands wrapped around a cup of warm tea, staring at the steam curling into the air. The cabin smelled of burning wood and something sweet—perhaps the remnants of the herbal tea she h
Adrian had spent years building walls around himself, convinced that solitude was the only way to survive. But the longer he stayed in this village—the longer she stood by his side—the more those walls began to crack. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or if, deep down, he wanted them to fall. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Adrian woke to the distant sounds of birds chirping, their songs unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. The soft golden light of dawn seeped through the small window of the cabin, casting long shadows on the wooden walls. For a moment, he stayed still, listening. He had spent months in this cabin, surrounded by nothing but silence. There had been no voices, no warmth, no presence other than his own. But now, that had changed. A gentle hum drifted through the air, followed by the rustling of leaves. It was her. Adrian pulled himself out of bed, running a hand through his unruly hair before stepping outside. There she w
The days that followed were different. There was an unspoken shift between them, something delicate but undeniable. For the first time in a long time, Adrian wasn’t just existing—he was living. And it terrified him. The morning was peaceful, the kind of stillness that came before the world truly woke up. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of pine lingered as Adrian stepped outside. She was already awake. He found her by the garden again, kneeling in the dirt with her sleeves rolled up. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from her braid, framing her face as she carefully tended to the plants. He didn’t announce his presence, but she seemed to sense him anyway. “You should be resting,” she said without looking up. Adrian leaned against the wooden railing of the cabin’s porch, crossing his arms. “So should you.” She smiled softly, brushing the dirt off her hands before standing. “I like taking care of things.” Adrian wasn’t sure why, but the way she said it made his che
The days continued to pass, but something between them had changed. The air was different—heavier, charged with something neither of them could name. Adrian wasn’t sure when it had started, but he felt it. And so did she. Even though he tried to fight it, the walls he had built so carefully were starting to crumble. It had been raining again. The sky was still gray, heavy with the promise of another storm. The ground was damp, and the scent of wet earth clung to the air as Adrian stepped outside, inhaling deeply. The fresh air felt good. He had spent too many days inside, confined to the small cabin, suffocated by his own weakness. But stepping out into the world didn’t make him feel better—it only reminded him of how much had changed. His body ached. Not from the virus, but from something deeper, something that refused to heal. Adrian had always been strong, always in control. Now, he could barely walk for more than a few minutes without feeling drained. It frustrated him. No
Adrian was changing. He could feel it.For so long, he had been trapped in a body that was no longer his own, shunned by the world that once adored him. But now, something new was unraveling within him, something foreign yet intoxicating.It was her.The way she looked at him. The way she saw him—not as a man cursed by fate, but as someone worthy of care.It terrified him.Because the moment he let himself believe it, the moment he let her in… he would never be able to go back.The morning was crisp, the air damp from the previous night's storm. Clouds lingered in the sky, whispering the promise of more rain.Adrian stood on the porch, staring at the endless stretch of wilderness before him. His body ached, not just from the remnants of the virus but from something deeper—an exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure.A part of him still didn’t trust the warmth creeping into his chest.His mind was at war with itself. One side screamed at him to keep his distance, to protect himsel
Adrian had spent years convincing himself that he was untouchable, unreachable. That love, warmth, and comfort were luxuries meant for others, never for him. But last night… Last night, she had shattered that belief. And now, in the light of day, he didn’t know how to face it. The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the small cottage window, casting a golden glow over the room. The storm had passed, leaving the air fresh and cool. Everything was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds greeting the new day. The world had moved on as if nothing had happened, but Adrian knew better. He shifted slightly, the warmth of the blanket wrapping around him as he opened his eyes. The familiar sight of the wooden ceiling met his gaze, but there was something different today—something that sent his heart into a slow, steady ache. Then it hit him. The kiss. His body tensed as the memory surfaced. Her soft lips, the way she had leaned into him, the way her fingers had foun
Adrian had always thought of emotions as a weakness. He had learned the hard way that caring too much, hoping too much, only led to pain. But with her, things were different. She had crept past his walls, little by little, until he no longer knew how to push her away. And that terrified him. Because if he let himself get too close… he wasn’t sure if he would survive losing her. The air was thick with the scent of rain. Heavy clouds rolled across the sky, casting long shadows over the village. Adrian stood near the stable, watching as she carefully brushed one of the horses. “It’s going to rain soon,” he said. She glanced up, offering a small smile. “I know.” She didn’t seem concerned, but Adrian had spent enough time alone to recognize the way the wind shifted before a storm. “You should come inside before it gets worse,” he said. She laughed softly. “Are you worried about me, Adrian?” He frowned. “I just don’t want you getting caught in the rain.” She tilt
For years, Adrian had convinced himself that solitude was the only way to survive. He had been abandoned, betrayed, and cast aside, so he built walls—thick and unyielding. But now, with her, those walls were beginning to crack. And that terrified him. Because if he let himself trust again… what if it all came crashing down? The first light of dawn spilled over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and freshly cut hay. Adrian stood by the wooden fence, watching her as she moved through her morning routine. She was already hard at work, her small hands gathering eggs from the chicken coop. Loose strands of hair framed her face, catching in the gentle morning breeze. There was a quiet ease to her movements, a peaceful rhythm that belonged solely to her. Adrian leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his chest. It had been weeks since he had first arrived here—wounded, angry, lost. And yet
Adrian had spent his life running—from his past, from people, from the fear of being hurt again. But now, something was changing. The walls he had so carefully built were cracking, letting warmth seep through in ways he never expected. And it was all because of her. But how long could he let himself feel this way before the fear swallowed him whole? The morning arrived with a soft golden hue spilling through the windows. The storm from the night before had passed, leaving behind the scent of wet earth and fresh grass. The sound of birds chirping filled the air, the world waking up in quiet harmony. Adrian woke up feeling... strange. For the first time in a long time, his body didn’t feel weighed down by exhaustion or bitterness. His mind, though still tangled with thoughts, was not as loud as it usually was. He sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face before shifting his gaze toward the window. The view was pe
Adrian had spent years shielding himself from the world, convincing himself that emotions were nothing more than a burden. But now, as he sat beside her, his fingers still entwined with hers, he realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. Warmth. Not the fleeting warmth of fire or the sun against his skin. But a deeper, quieter warmth—the kind that settled in the heart and refused to let go. And it terrified him. The fire crackled softly, its flickering light casting shifting shadows on the walls. Outside, the rain continued to fall, a rhythmic tapping against the wooden roof. Adrian knew he should pull away. But he didn’t. Her fingers were small against his, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she held on, as if she knew he was on the verge of retreating. “You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, carrying no expectat
Adrian had spent years convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone. That trust was a weakness, and love was nothing more than a cruel illusion. But now, in the quiet moments between him and her, something inside him was shifting. It was terrifying. Because the more time he spent with her, the more he felt himself slipping—his carefully built walls cracking under the weight of her warmth. And he didn’t know how to stop it. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth after the night’s rain. Mist curled over the rolling hills, stretching far beyond the wooden fence that enclosed the small farm. The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and gold, signaling the beginning of a new day. Adrian stood alone on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was distant, locked onto the horizon where the sun was slowly rising. The world around him felt untouched, peaceful even. But inside his mind, a
Adrian was changing. He could feel it.For so long, he had been trapped in a body that was no longer his own, shunned by the world that once adored him. But now, something new was unraveling within him, something foreign yet intoxicating.It was her.The way she looked at him. The way she saw him—not as a man cursed by fate, but as someone worthy of care.It terrified him.Because the moment he let himself believe it, the moment he let her in… he would never be able to go back.The morning was crisp, the air damp from the previous night's storm. Clouds lingered in the sky, whispering the promise of more rain.Adrian stood on the porch, staring at the endless stretch of wilderness before him. His body ached, not just from the remnants of the virus but from something deeper—an exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure.A part of him still didn’t trust the warmth creeping into his chest.His mind was at war with itself. One side screamed at him to keep his distance, to protect himsel
The days continued to pass, but something between them had changed. The air was different—heavier, charged with something neither of them could name. Adrian wasn’t sure when it had started, but he felt it. And so did she. Even though he tried to fight it, the walls he had built so carefully were starting to crumble. It had been raining again. The sky was still gray, heavy with the promise of another storm. The ground was damp, and the scent of wet earth clung to the air as Adrian stepped outside, inhaling deeply. The fresh air felt good. He had spent too many days inside, confined to the small cabin, suffocated by his own weakness. But stepping out into the world didn’t make him feel better—it only reminded him of how much had changed. His body ached. Not from the virus, but from something deeper, something that refused to heal. Adrian had always been strong, always in control. Now, he could barely walk for more than a few minutes without feeling drained. It frustrated him. No
The days that followed were different. There was an unspoken shift between them, something delicate but undeniable. For the first time in a long time, Adrian wasn’t just existing—he was living. And it terrified him. The morning was peaceful, the kind of stillness that came before the world truly woke up. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of pine lingered as Adrian stepped outside. She was already awake. He found her by the garden again, kneeling in the dirt with her sleeves rolled up. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from her braid, framing her face as she carefully tended to the plants. He didn’t announce his presence, but she seemed to sense him anyway. “You should be resting,” she said without looking up. Adrian leaned against the wooden railing of the cabin’s porch, crossing his arms. “So should you.” She smiled softly, brushing the dirt off her hands before standing. “I like taking care of things.” Adrian wasn’t sure why, but the way she said it made his che