Ari entered the room as if entering a cave.
Her steps were light, yet heavy at the same time — as if she feared the ground might hear her footsteps. She paused at the threshold for a moment, her blue eyes adjusting to the dim light. She looked around quickly: the simple iron bed, the wooden desk marked with fingerprints, the small window opening onto merciless darkness. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her back straight as an arrow.
Ryan closed the door. He didn't know what to do after that.
He stood there, silent. She sat there, silent. The silence suddenly became harder than the walls. Not a comfortable silence, but the silence of those who don't know how to begin, who don't know how to break the ice that had accumulated over an entire year. At home, the distances were smaller. There were parents, sisters, voices that hid what remained unsaid. Here, they were alone. A glass wall between them, thick enough for each to see the other, but allowing nothing to pass through.
Ari sighed first. She was always the stronger one at starting conversations.
she said.
"The room is small."
"Yes."
"But it's tidy."
"Yes."
"Do you clean it yourself?"
He looked at her. "Who else would clean it?"
"I don't know. Some students have servants."
"I'm not one of them."
Silence returned. Shorter this time, but still present.
"The pillow is hard."
"I know."
"Doesn't it hurt your neck?"
"I'm used to it."
She was searching for anything — anything — to fill the void. He knew that. She used to do the same when she was little, afraid to ask about something real, resorting to silly questions. He knew her better than she thought.
He wasn't good with words. He wasn't good at making others comfortable. But he tried.
"How was your year?"
She raised her eyes. A slight surprise.
She paused.
"It was... good.At first, it was hard. I was scared. I didn't know anyone."
He said nothing. He didn't know what to say.
She smiled. A small, uncertain smile.
"But then, I met some girls.They're nice. Not like some arrogant nobles. They're... ordinary. Like me."
"That's good."
"Yes."
Then she began to speak. Slowly at first, then the words flowed like a river after a long winter.
"There's Lina. Her element is wind. She's very fast. We race sometimes in the back courtyard. I always lose. But she says I'm getting better."
Her eyes sparkled.
"And Ela. Her element is plants. She loves flowers. She has a small garden behind the girls' dormitory. She lets me touch them sometimes."
Her hands moved.
"And Mara. She's quiet. Doesn't talk much. But she's kind. She helped me with math when I was hopeless."
She was smiling now. She talked without stopping, as if afraid the void would return if she paused.
He listened. He didn't interrupt. He didn't comment. He just listened.
she said.
"I'll introduce you to them sometime."
He didn't reply. But he nodded. That was enough.
***********
After a while, she calmed down. Her words became fewer, and the silences grew longer.
Then she asked.
"That girl... the one you helped in the corridor... do you know her?"
He looked at her.
"No."
"Then why did you help her?"
This question again. She had asked it during the first meeting, and he hadn't answered. She was asking it now, and he still didn't know how to answer.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
she repeated.
"How can you not know?"
He paused.
"I saw her on the ground. I saw her fear.Then... my hand moved before I could think."
She looked at him. Her eyes were blue, like his, but they were searching for something. A lie. Fear. A real answer. She found nothing.
she asked.
"Is she okay now?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen her since that day."
"Maybe she's in the girls' dormitory."
"Maybe."
Silence. Then she said:
"That's strange. You don't usually interfere."
"I know."
"But you interfered."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I told you. I don't know."
She didn't believe him. But she didn't ask again.
************
After a short silence, she changed the subject. That was her habit — when conversation became heavy, she moved on.
"Have you called home?"
He looked at her. He hadn't expected this question.
she said.
"Since you came to the academy,Did you tell Mother you're okay? Did you talk to Father?"
He was silent. He didn't know how to answer.
He was silent. He didn't know how to answer.
He hadn't called. He had no way to call. He didn't know how to get a communication crystal. More importantly, he didn't know what he would say. "Hello, I'm fine. Don't worry." That would be easy. But he couldn't. The words died in his throat every time he tried to imagine the call.But he didn't know why.
Ari sighed. She had understood.
"You haven't called, have you?"
"I couldn't."
"You don't have a communication crystal?"
"No."
"You could have borrowed one from Mira.Didn't you meet her?"
Silence.
After a short silence, Ari sighed.
she said suddenly.
"I'll bring you one."
He looked at it.
"I have another one. It's not new, but it works. I'll bring it in tomorrow."
"There's no need..."
she cut him off.
"I'm not asking,I'll bring it. And I'll call. Mother needs to be reassured."
He didn't reply. He knew she wouldn't back down. She was as stubborn as Liara, but she hid her stubbornness behind her angelic face.
He looked at her. Her eyes were blue, steady. She wasn't asking permission. She was telling him.
he said.
"Alright."
She smiled. It was a small smile, but it was real. Not a smile of victory, but a smile of relief.
Ari stood.
"I have to go. I'll bring the crystal tomorrow."
She walked toward the door. Then she stopped.
"Ryan..."
"Yes?"
"I was very happy to see you, my older brother."
He looked at her. Her face was slightly red, and her blue eyes shone in the lamplight. She was small. Still small. But she was no longer a child.
he said.
"Me too"
She smiled a small smile.
"I know."
Then she left.
Ryan remained sitting on the bed, staring at the closed door.
He heard her footsteps fade down the corridor. They were light, fast, as if she feared she might change her mind.
He sighed.
He lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes.
The pain was still there. The scars still throbbed. But it was no longer alone.
There was something else. Something he couldn't yet name.
Perhaps it was hope.
Or perhaps it was fear.
Or perhaps it was just exhaustion. Tired of fighting, tired of hiding, tired of pretending he didn't care.
And he did not want to be.
He didn't think about anything else that night.
He finally slept. Not a deep sleep, but a collapse from exhaustion.
The crystal awaited him tomorrow.
And the family awaited him on the other end.
He had to call.
Whether he was ready or not.