The moment Aria stepped out of the bathroom, she knew something was off.
Too quiet.
And in this house, silence was never innocent.
Her gaze flicked toward the bed.
Empty.
The blanket was half dragged to the floor, creased like someone had struggled—not rested.
Her expression dropped.
"…Don't tell me."
A sharp turn—and there he was.
Halfway across the room, gripping the edge of the table like it personally offended him, one leg trembling, the other barely holding his weight.
Stubborn.
Ridiculous.
Infuriating.
Aria crossed the room in three strides.
"What exactly are you doing?" Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind that warned storms were loading.
The boy froze.
Slowly, like a guilty criminal, he turned his head.
Those dark eyes—still wary, still defensive—met hers.
And then, very subtly…
He tried to move faster.
Big mistake.
His leg gave out instantly.
Aria caught him before he hit the ground.
"…Seriously?" she muttered, tightening her grip around him.
He stiffened in her arms like she'd just picked up a feral cat.
Good. At least he had energy for that.
Her inner voice sighed.
Congratulations, Aria. CEO by day, babysitter by force.
She lowered him back onto the bed—firmly this time.
"Trying to reopen every wound in your body? Or is this some new hobby I should invest in?"
Silence.
Of course.
He just stared at her.
But this time, there was something different.
Not just fear.
Something closer to… panic.
Aria narrowed her eyes.
"…You needed the bathroom."
It wasn't a question.
His fingers tightened around the bedsheet.
Bingo.
She exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers against her temple.
"Unbelievable."
Then, without warning—
She grabbed him again.
This time, no hesitation.
A clean lift.
Straight into her arms.
The boy's entire body locked up.
If tension could snap bones, he'd be dust.
"I—I…" he tried.
Nothing came out.
Just air.
Broken, useless sound.
His expression twisted—panic rising again.
Aria didn't even look at him.
"Relax," she said flatly. "I'm not interested in watching you suffer through basic human functions."
Pause.
Then, dry as ever—
"And before you overthink—no, this isn't charity. You're just inconvenient to clean up if you collapse."
A lie.
A very obvious one.
But she wasn't about to admit anything else.
He went still.
Processing.
Confused.
Good.
Stay confused. It's safer.
She placed him near the sink, steadying him.
"Hold this."
He obeyed instantly.
That obedience—
Yeah. She noticed.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
What did they do to you…
She stepped back, turning toward the door.
"I'll be outside."
A beat.
"…Call me if you fall. I'm not dragging you off the floor twice."
She walked out without waiting.
But she didn't go far.
Just stood there.
Leaning against the wall.
Arms crossed.
Listening.
Because despite everything—
She didn't trust him not to push himself again.
Or worse—
Not to ask for help.
Inside, there was silence.
Then slight movement.
Then—
A soft thud.
Aria's eyes snapped open.
"Of course," she muttered, already moving.
She pushed the door open—
And found him gripping the sink harder, breathing unevenly, clearly struggling but refusing to make a sound.
Stubborn to the point of stupidity.
She walked in, slower this time.
Less sharp.
More… deliberate.
"Next time," she said quietly, "try using your brain before your pride."
He looked at her.
And for the first time—
There was no fear.
Just… something fragile.
Unfamiliar.
Trust?
No.
Too early.
But maybe—
The beginning of it.
Aria clicked her tongue.
"Don't look at me like that. It's not a redemption arc."
Then, softer—barely audible—
"Just survival."
She helped him back again.
Carefully.
This time, he didn't resist.
Didn't stiffen.
Didn't pull away.
Progress.
Tiny.
But real.
Back in bed, she adjusted the blanket, then turned to leave—
"…"
A slight tug.
She paused.
Looked down.
His fingers had caught the edge of her sleeve.
Weak.
Hesitant.
Like even he wasn't sure why.
Aria raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
He opened his mouth.
Tried again.
Nothing.
Frustration flooded his face instantly.
Her gaze softened—just a fraction.
"Use your head," she said.
Then she picked up a notebook from the side table, placed it in his hands, and added a pen.
"Write."
He blinked.
Slow.
Like the idea had never existed before.
Aria smirked faintly.
"Shocking, I know. Communication without suffering."
A pause.
Then, with just enough edge—
"I prefer efficiency."
He hesitated.
Then slowly…
Wrote.
The handwriting was shaky. Uneven.
But readable.
"…thank… you…"
Aria stared at it.
For a second too long.
Then scoffed lightly.
"Don't rush it. I'm not going anywhere."
She turned, walking back to her desk.
Files waiting.
Calls pending.
An empire demanding attention.
But for the first time—
Her focus split.
Just slightly.
Behind her, the boy watched her.
Quiet.
Still.
But no longer looking like someone waiting to be abandoned.
And Aria?
She didn't look back.
But her thoughts weren't on work anymore.
Congratulations, her inner voice drawled. You just adopted a problem.
She clicked her pen.
Cold expression back in place.
Fine.
Then I'll fix it.