It had been a few months since Lilia had taken those first tentative steps toward healing. She could feel herself getting stronger, more confident, as the days passed. Her connection with Edian had deepened in ways she hadn’t expected. They shared quieter moments now, talking without the pressure of words or forced interactions. Edian, despite his usual flippancy, had become a constant in her life, someone she could rely on, even if she wasn’t always sure how to ask.

But today was different. Lilia felt the weight of something pressing against her chest—something she couldn’t ignore any longer. She’d made progress, but there was still a part of her that felt raw, unhealed. A part of her that longed for something more than the surface-level connection they had. She needed to trust him completely—to let him see the parts of her that had been hiding for so long.

They were sitting outside by the lake, the sun setting behind the trees, casting long shadows over the grass. The breeze was light, cool against her skin. Edian had been quiet for a while, staring out at the water, lost in his thoughts.

Lilia took a deep breath, steadying herself. This was it. She had to do this.

“Edian,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He turned to her, his eyes soft but unreadable. “What’s up?” His casual tone didn’t ease the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

“I—” She swallowed, unsure of where to begin. “I’ve been thinking a lot about… everything, about the way things have changed. I’ve never really been good at trusting people, but with you… I feel like I’ve been able to let my guard down.” She paused, her hands trembling slightly. “And I think that means I need to tell you the truth.”

Edian raised an eyebrow, the tiniest hint of curiosity flickering in his gaze.

“I’m not perfect,” she continued, her voice shaky now. “I’ve struggled with a lot of things. I’ve been alone for so long, and… I didn’t know how to let anyone in. But you… You’ve been there. You’ve made me feel like maybe… maybe I could be okay again.”

She could feel the lump in her throat growing, but she forced the words out, pushing herself forward. “I—” Her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat, refusing to stop now. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m not okay. I’m still figuring things out, still… broken. And I need you to know that. I need you to know that it’s not all easy for me, and it’s not all… fixed.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her confession settle in the air between them. “But I trust you. I trust you more than anyone.”

There was a long silence. The breeze seemed to die down, and the world held its breath.

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Lilia glanced at Edian, waiting for some kind of response. His face was still, but his eyes had shifted, his expression colder than before. She saw his lips press together, his jaw tightening.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it now.

“I just wanted you to know,” she whispered. “I wanted you to know the real me.”

Edian’s gaze dropped to the ground, a long pause stretching between them before he spoke again. His voice, when it came, was like ice. “You think I’m gonna sit here and comfort you? Hold your hand while you wallow in… whatever this is?”

Lilia’s heart stopped. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she felt something inside of her shatter. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

Edian continued, his tone growing sharper, colder. “You’re not strong. You’re just… weak. And that’s fine, I guess. But don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.” He stood abruptly, his movements harsh, like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. “You want someone to fix you? I’m not that person.”

Lilia stared at him, numbness spreading through her chest. She had thought—no, she had believed—that sharing her heart with him was the right decision. That maybe he would see her as something more than just a broken girl.

But now, in the harsh light of his rejection, she felt smaller than she ever had before. Weak. Pathetic.

Without another word, Edian turned and walked away, leaving Lilia alone by the lake. The air felt colder now, the breeze harsh against her skin, as if the world itself had turned away from her.

And in that moment, she realized how wrong she had been.

Lilia didn’t move from the lakeside for a long time. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the last streaks of orange and purple fading into the deep navy of night. The water lapped gently at the shore, the same as it always had, indifferent to what had just happened.

Her hands curled into the grass beneath her, gripping the earth as if anchoring herself in place. The silence felt louder than anything Edian had said.

He was gone. He had left her.

She had thought—no, she had been certain—that she was making the right choice. That trusting him, letting him in, would bring them closer. That he would understand.

Instead, he had looked at her like she was something pathetic. A burden.

Her chest ached, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t scream, didn’t rage against the unfairness of it all. She simply sat there, staring at the darkened water, letting the cold settle into her bones.

She wasn’t even sure how long she stayed like that. Minutes? Hours? The night blurred into itself, and she found she didn’t care.

At some point, she stood, her body moving on autopilot. Her limbs felt heavy, like they weren’t entirely hers. She turned away from the lake, away from the place where she had unraveled, and walked back toward the cabin.

She slipped inside without a sound. The others were already asleep, their soft breathing filling the quiet space. She ignored the empty space where Edian’s presence usually lingered.

Carefully, she climbed into her bunk, pulling the thin blanket over herself. The warmth did nothing to chase away the cold that had settled inside her.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind hollow.

So this was what trust led to.

She should have known better.

She should never have let herself believe.

Lilia turned onto her side, curling into herself. The ache in her chest dulled into something deeper, something quieter.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Slowly, methodically, she began to retreat, slipping back into the shadows she had started to leave behind. It was safer there.

It was easier.

And this time, she wouldn’t be so foolish as to let anyone pull her out.