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It had been hours since Christia’s friends left to the Merchant District to speak with the Military Knights about Fiar’s wife, Isla Doniz, and she had been uneasy that entire time. For the duration of two hours, Christia sat on Fiar’s couch and tightly grasped the hilt of her dagger. She would look over the side of the couch to see Fiar sitting against the wall and still blankly staring off at the floor. The rise of his chest after every gentle breath was the only indication Christia could detect to confirm he was alive.

Two hours she sat like a paranoid psycho, waiting for Fiar to suddenly snap and pounce on her. But he never did. Hell, he hardly moved an inch from his spot. That relieved her, and she allowed the cushions of the couch to pull her in and consume her.

Christia had taken the dagger off her belt and stared at it. Was she really prepared to use the dagger, on a friend nonetheless? She didn’t know the answer to that. One thing she knew for certain was just how manipulated her mind could get. She had treated Fiar as a monster, an enemy, all because of the information Lio had forwarded to her regarding their scuffle. That was further from the truth, he was actually as normal as anymore else, maybe even more brave and caring. He had the resolve to battle his own friends for the sake of his wife. That was bravery.

Christia soon felt a strong repulsion to the very blade in her hands. She threw the dagger across the room, then went and grabbed a wool cloth from Fiar’s laundry and draped it over the weapon.

Fiar wasn’t a monster, nor did he pose a danger to her that she had to keep a dagger ready. So she herself banished the weapon. She didn’t need it anymore, because she had a much more effective one in her arsenal.

Christia stood up and headed to Fiar’s kitchen. There she grabbed the tea kettle, filled it with water, then boiled it. She made tea for Fiar, pouring its black liquid into his teacup. The pleasant aroma of the brewing tea wafted into the air and soothed her mind. This was a peace treaty between the two.

She stooped down and set Fiar’s cup full of tea in front of him. He jeered his head to stare at it, then began sipping on it minutes later. The tea had broken his once emotionless demeanor and ripped his eyes away from the floor, which made Christia grin. She held her hands to her heart, her efforts were finally worth something.

However, he still wasn’t the old Fiar she knew. She did recall Charliette hypothesizing that only the sight of his wife could bring him back from his delirium, but she was baffled by the amount of progress he was making even with the absence of that final key to healing him. At this point, she felt that him seeing his wife wasn’t necessary, she might be able to fix him by overloading him with immeasurable kindness. That was her specialty.

The tea was a good start, but wasn’t enough to crack his shell. So she had another idea. In Fiar’s kitchen, there was a basket filled with a variety of different fruits that glistened in the morning sunlight. Christia picked up an armful of fruits like apples, oranges, apricots, and strangely a durian. Durians were rarely ever sold by merchants in the country, so Christia did a double take as she stared at the spiky fruit. Once finished, she got to work.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The girl split open the durian, crinkling her nose as the pungent aroma of the fruit seeped into her nostrils, but she continued to cut it. Then went the apples, which she cut into slices. She did the same for the apricots and peeled the oranges.

The young girl looked back to see Fiar finish his tea and set down the cup beside him. The timing could not have been perfect for her, because she had just finished chopping all the fruit. She arranged them on a wooden platter, the elegance of their colors popping out and subduing the eyes of anyone brave enough to glance over them. The red skin of the apple, the oranges neatly plated atop their bright removed peels, the golden flesh of the durian, and the orange-red of the apricot slices all played their part to soothe their consumer with their warm hues.

She eagerly trotted over to Fiar and hummed a joyous melody. This was sure to get him, she thought. That man who stood idle on the ground had gulped down the tea with haste, so perhaps he would be hungry too. She crossed her fingers.

Food was always a way to get into a person’s heart, from what Christia recalled hearing from her mother. You don’t need to speak a person’s language or even know them well, but by eating someone’s food made from the heart, you can understand them much better. It’s the universal language after all. Everyone loves food.

Christia bent down and placed the platter of fruit in front of Fiar, and he once again stared down at it with the little life he had left in his eyes. Not even he could resist the food that stood before him, and thus he began eating with the durian first.

With his thin hands, he scooped up the durian flesh and chewed on it. He just kept chewing but not swallowing. He stopped, not even acknowledging the fruit anymore. The durian in his mouth took his entire attention.

“Fiar?” Christia inched closer to him and sat down next to him. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and analyzed his face. His nose was similarly scrunched up as he continued chewing. His eyes were still lifeless, barely blinking and eyelids sagging over his eyes. But yet he still had the focus to chew.

He didn’t reply to Christia, he didn’t even stare up at her or acknowledge her. The durian won him over, not her.

She let out a sigh. He was still delirious and not snapping back to reality. She thought she could help him, but it just seemed she was inadequate. The girl slumped her shoulders and let her back slide further down the wall, causing her to slouch. It didn’t matter anymore, she just had to wait for her friends to bring his wife back home. That was the final piece to the puzzle, and in no way could it be replicated. She figured that out the hard way.

Fiar made an exaggerated gulp noise, then stopped chewing. The durian finally sank into his gut, after an eternity of gnawing. Christia felt as his thigh brushed against hers. This wasn’t the sole occurrence, though. She felt his body brush against hers three more times before she looked up to see what he was up to.

He was staring right into her eyes. Those dead, fish-like eyes stared right into her soul and made her flustered. Never had he paid this much attention to her, or anyone else for that matter. She just knew that food from the heart was enough. His mouth gaped as if he were going to speak. He did.

“Isla? Dear?” He looked her straight in the eyes and said that.

Those words cut deeper in her heart than any sword ever could. Tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t have the strength to tell him the truth. If her kindness wasn’t enough to help him, then her words would never be.