Shadows Heart

The walls of the apartment feel impossibly large yet suffocatingly close all at once. The sunlight streaming through the windows feels like a cruel contrast to the heaviness that clings to the air.

I watch her sleep, curled up on the bed with her curls a tangled halo around her face. She looks so small, so fragile, as though the weight of the world has settled on her tiny shoulders. The sight of her like this makes my chest ache, but it also fills me with a terrifying determination.

I told her I was sorry. And I meant it.

But that doesn't change anything. She's not leaving.

The apology wasn't a lie—I do feel terrible. I hate the way she looks at me now, like I'm a stranger, someone she doesn't trust anymore. But my fear outweighs my guilt. It always has.

She doesn't understand. She doesn't see what I see, doesn't feel the hollow ache of knowing that if she walks out that door, she might never come back.

I won't let that happen.

---

The morning light filters in, painting golden patterns across the bedroom walls. Sao stirs, her curls catching the light as she rolls over, her face still marked by exhaustion.

"Good morning," I say softly, standing in the doorway.

She groans in response, pulling the blanket over her head.

"Come on," I say, stepping inside. "You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she mumbles, her voice muffled by the blanket.

"You said that yesterday," I point out, crossing my arms. "And the day before."

She doesn't respond, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Sao," I say, my tone firmer now. "You can't keep this up. It's not healthy."

She pulls the blanket down just enough to glare at me. "What do you care?"

"You know I care," I say, my voice softening.

Her glare falters, and she sits up slowly, her curls wild and untamed. "Then stop forcing me to stay here, Oriel."

"I'm not forcing you," I say quickly, though the words feel hollow even to me.

"Yes, you are," she snaps, her eyes narrowing. "You're keeping me here against my will. Do you even hear yourself?"

I look away, my jaw tightening. "I'm doing this for you."

"No," she says sharply. "You're doing this for you."

Her words hit harder than I want to admit, but I keep my face neutral.

"You're staying," I say quietly. "And that's final."

Her face crumples, and for a moment, I think she might cry again. But instead, she stands, her hands trembling at her sides.

"You can't keep me here forever, Oriel," she says, her voice shaking.

"Maybe not," I say, meeting her gaze. "But right now, this is where you need to be."

"No, it's not," she says firmly, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"Where else would you go?" I ask, my voice rising. "Back to the hospital? Back to being a patient, stuck in that sterile hellhole while everyone else moves on with their lives? You deserve better than that, Sao."

She flinches at my words, but her expression doesn't waver. "And you think this is better? Being trapped here with you?"

"You're not trapped," I say, though the conviction in my voice is thin. "You're safe."

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "Safe? I feel like a prisoner, Oriel."

---

Later, after she's calmed down, I sit in the kitchen, staring at the untouched plate of food I made for her. The apartment feels too big, too empty, despite her being just down the hall.

I told her she wasn't leaving, and I meant it. But now, the weight of that promise feels heavier than I expected.

I pull out the crane from my pocket—the one I refolded after Janus left. The edges are worn, the creases soft from being folded and unfolded too many times.

Janus's words echo in my mind: "Take care of her."

I've tried. God knows I've tried. But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what that really means.

---

When I check on Sao later, she's sitting by the window, her back to me. The sunlight catches her curls, making them glow like a halo. She looks so small, so distant, and it makes my chest ache.

"Sao," I say quietly, stepping into the room.

She doesn't turn around.

"I know you hate me right now," I say, my voice soft. "But I'm doing this because I care about you."

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. "You don't care about me, Oriel. You care about owning me."

The words cut deeper than I thought possible, but I don't let it show.

"I'll prove you wrong," I say, my voice steady.

She finally turns to look at me, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Then let me go."

I shake my head. "Not yet."

Her expression hardens, and I know she's already planning her next move. But I don't care.

Because no matter what, she's not leaving me. Not again.