Chapter 9: First Confession

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Kairus said casually, standing up and adjusting his jacket.

Avyanna looked at him, her brows furrowed in mild confusion.

“You… walk with me?” she repeated, unsure if she heard him right.

He nodded without hesitation. “It’s getting late. I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

There was a beat of silence before Avyanna gave him a small nod, her expression unreadable. “Alright.”

She gathered her things—her bag, the leftover bandages, and the wipes—and tucked them away neatly. As they exited the café together, she noticed the lights still glowing warmly inside. The place remained open, a few customers chatting in the far corner, and another employee had just taken over the shift behind the counter.

The night air wrapped around them the moment they stepped outside. It was calm, with a faint breeze brushing past, carrying the scent of damp pavement and blooming flowers from somewhere nearby.

As they walked side by side, Avyanna found herself unusually at ease. The silence between them wasn’t tense anymore—it was gentle, like a quiet understanding. And for some reason, with every step, she felt less and less like going home.

After a few minutes, she suddenly slowed her pace and turned slightly toward Kairus. “Let’s go to the park,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “I want to breathe some fresh air for a while.”

Kairus glanced at her, surprised by the shift in plan, but he didn’t object. He simply nodded, adjusting his direction to match hers.

“Alright,” he said. “Lead the way.”

While walking, Avyanna and Kairus remained quiet. Their steps were slow and steady, matching the calm rhythm of the night. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence—it wasn’t awkward, just peaceful. The wind gently rustled the leaves above them, brushing against their skin like a soft whisper. The streetlights cast a warm glow on the pavement, stretching their shadows behind them.

When they finally reached the park, the world seemed even quieter. Not a single person in sight. It was just the two of them. The stillness of the place brought a certain calm, almost like time had slowed down just for them.

They found a bench and sat for a while, letting the silence continue. The distant hum of the city seemed far away now, replaced by the sound of trees swaying and the occasional chirp of a night insect.

Eventually, Avyanna stood and wandered over to the swing nearby, lowering herself gently onto it. She began to sway back and forth, not too high—just enough to feel the movement.

“You know what…” she started, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“What?” Kairus responded, stepping in front of her. He didn’t sit—just stood there, watching her with quiet curiosity. His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, Avyanna couldn’t look away.

His eyes were striking—not just because of the color, but because they looked like they actually saw her. And the bridge of his nose, the way the light touched his features… she found herself staring a second too long before looking away.

“I used to wish,” she continued, her voice low and almost distant, “when I was young… to be in a park like this. Just sitting, playing, laughing.”

Her fingers gripped the swing's chains loosely as she looked down at her lap.

“How funny,” she added with a bitter smile. “If I was still with my parents… maybe I wouldn’t be here at all.”

Kairus remained silent for a moment, simply watching her as she gently rocked back and forth on the swing. The vulnerability in her voice, the quiet ache behind her words—it made something in him pause. Then, without saying anything, he moved to the swing beside her and sat down, the chains creaking softly under his weight.

“We can’t laugh too loud here,” he said with a small smirk, glancing around the empty park. “We might alarm the neighbors or scare off a squirrel or two… but we can talk about anything here. No one’s listening.”

Avyanna chuckled faintly at his words, the sound barely audible, but it was there. It faded quickly though, and she stared ahead into the darkness, her eyes unfocused. The silence stretched for a few more seconds before she finally spoke again.

“Yeah…” she murmured. “The wound’s healing. It still stings a little, but… it’s better.” She paused and then turned her head slightly to look at him. “Thank you.”

Kairus glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been good to me,” she added, her voice quieter now, almost like she wasn’t sure if she should be saying it. “Or… is this just how you treat everyone around you?”

He raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “Is that your way of asking if you’re special?”

Avyanna rolled her eyes, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m just saying… you didn’t have to do any of this. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t.”

Kairus leaned back slightly on the swing, looking up at the stars peeking out from behind scattered clouds. “I don’t usually get involved in other people’s problems,” he admitted. “But… you didn’t look like you had anyone else. I know how that feels.”

Avyanna looked down at her lap again, her fingers brushing over the bandage hidden beneath her sleeve. “I didn’t ask for help.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes… we still need it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night air moved gently around them, carrying the distant hum of the city and the rustle of trees. It was quiet, peaceful—even with the unspoken weight between them.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Kairus added after a while.

“Yeah?” she asked, her tone curious. “Who?”

He hesitated for a beat, then shook his head with a faint smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other night.”

Avyanna glanced at him with a questioning look but didn’t press further. She just kept swaying gently on the swing, a little slower now, her thoughts a little less heavy.

And somehow, in the silence, it felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name yet.

The quiet wrapped around them like a soft blanket—comforting, still, and just a little bit strange. It wasn't the kind of silence that demanded to be broken. It was the kind that made space for thoughts, for feelings to rise slowly to the surface.

Avyanna could feel movement beside her. The chain of the swing creaked slightly, and when she glanced to her side, she noticed that Kairus had stood up. She hadn't even heard him shift—it was like he moved faster than she expected.

She blinked and looked forward. He was standing right in front of her now.

Her heart gave a small, confused thump in her chest. Something in his eyes looked different—not cold, not unreadable like before. There was something raw there now, something open.

“Kairus?” she asked softly, unsure.

He held her gaze. The lights from the nearby streetlamp cast a golden hue over his features, highlighting the seriousness in his expression. His hands were at his sides, clenched just slightly, like he was trying to hold something back.

“Avyanna,” he said, his voice steady, but lower than usual. “I love you.”

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t the kind of confession that came out impulsively or carelessly. There was weight behind it. Truth. And a kind of fear too—like he didn’t know what she would do with it.

She stared at him, stunned, her hands gripping the swing’s chains a little tighter.

For a moment, everything around them faded—the breeze, the trees, the stars. All she could focus on was him. His eyes. His words.

“…You what?” she said, almost in a whisper.

“I love you,” he repeated, this time more firmly. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was the way you always keep pushing forward, even when you're bleeding inside. Or maybe it was the silence we shared—how it never felt empty. I just know that… I don’t want to watch you walk away again without knowing how I feel.”

Avyanna’s lips parted, but no words came. Her heart was thundering, her mind racing. She hadn’t seen this coming. Not like this.

But deep inside her chest, a part of her—the part that had long grown quiet—stirred.

Something had shifted. Something real.