chapter 13: morning light and quiet truths
the soft light of dawn slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls. a gentle breeze stirred the thin curtains as maya's voice cut through the quiet room.
"hey… it's time to wake up."
ren's eyes fluttered open slowly, the warmth of the hut holding him still for a moment longer. the weight of sleep clung to him, but the sound was gentle enough to ease the sharp edges of his restless mind.
he sat up on the straw mat, rubbing the lingering ache from his shoulder. maya was already moving around, preparing a small fire in the corner. the scent of burning wood mixed with the faint smell of herbs filled the air.
"you don't have to get up right away," maya said softly, "but you should eat something. you'll need your strength."
ren's pride urged him to remain silent, but the calm in her voice made him nod.
after a moment, maya settled beside him, her eyes meeting his. "i guess we should introduce ourselves properly," she said, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "you're ren, right?"
"yeah," he replied, voice low but steady. "and you're maya."
"i am," she said. "so… tell me something about you. not the part you show to the world, but the part you keep hidden."
ren's gaze dropped. the question felt like a blade cutting through his carefully built walls. he hesitated, then spoke, voice rough but honest. "i don't trust easily. pride makes sure of that. but… i'm tired of fighting alone."
maya nodded slowly, understanding shining in her eyes. "that's something worth sharing. i'm not perfect either. my parents… they're gone. sometimes it feels like i'm the only one left, but i keep going because i have to."
for the first time, ren saw something familiar in her pain. a shared loneliness that didn't need words.
"why did you help me?" he asked quietly.
"because everyone deserves a chance," maya said simply. "even those who carry storms inside."
ren looked at her, the truth of her words sinking deep. pride still burned, but beneath it was a fragile hope—one that maybe he didn't have to face his broken pieces alone.
outside, the morning birds began their song, weaving a gentle soundtrack to a new beginning.