Eden was alone in the room, the soft rustle of the bed linens, the only sound that filled the silence. His fingers grazed over the fabric, unsure of what to do next. The space was so different from the cold, dark prison he had come from. It almost felt like a dream—a fantasy he couldn't quite accept. He knew it should be a relief, but the comfort only made him feel more vulnerable.
He couldn't understand it. How could he be in a room so warm and safe when he had been locked away in a damp, cold cell just hours ago?
His world had always been one of shadows, the silence louder than any noise. And now, he sat in a room full of light, where every sound felt amplified, his heart thudding in his chest. Was this kindness? Or was this just another trap?
The door creaked open, and Eden's entire body tensed. He didn't need to see Darian to know he was there. He could feel him—the way the air seemed to thrum, thick with tension. Darian's presence had always been overwhelming, even when he tried to hide it. And today, it seemed heavier than ever.
"Eden," Darian's voice came softly, more tentative than Eden had ever heard it before. "Are you alright?"
Eden's fingers tightened on the edge of the bed, but he didn't respond right away. How was he supposed to answer? Was he supposed to trust the man who had once imprisoned him? Who had treated him like less than nothing? The words stuck in his throat, raw and difficult.
"I don't know what to say," Eden said at last, his voice rough with emotion. "You've taken everything from me. I don't know if I can just… forget it all."
Darian stepped closer, his footsteps hesitant and slow. "I'm not asking you to forget," he said, his voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper. "I know I've done things that can never be undone. I just… want a chance to show you that I can be different. That I can be better."
The sincerity in Darian's voice was undeniable, but Eden couldn't bring himself to believe it. How could he? How could he believe in someone who had caused him so much pain?
"Why?" Eden finally asked, turning his head in Darian's direction. He could sense the shift in the air, and he could feel Darian standing there, waiting for him to speak. "Why do you want to change now? After everything?"
Darian didn't answer right away. His silence stretched on, long enough that Eden began to wonder if he was even going to respond. But then, Darian's voice came—soft, fragile. "Because I see you now, Eden. I see you as you are. Not as a pawn in some game, not as a tool. I see you. And I can't keep pretending that I didn't hurt you. I can't keep pretending that I wasn't wrong."
Eden felt a wave of conflicting emotions crash over him. Part of him wanted to pull away, to shut Darian out completely. But another part of him—one he'd buried for so long—wanted to believe. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different between them.
"I… I don't know how to trust you," Eden said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been hurt too many times."
"I understand," Darian replied softly, taking a step closer. "I don't deserve your trust. Not yet. But I can't ask you to forgive me all at once. I can only show you that I want to make it right."
There was a long pause, the space between them thick with the weight of unspoken words. Eden could feel his heart beating faster now, his chest tight with something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't peace. But it was something—something fragile.
And then, the sound of soft footsteps behind him made him turn his head. He felt the presence of the maid before she spoke.
"Prince Darian has requested you be bathed and dressed," she said gently, her tone respectful but kind. "I'll help you."
Eden didn't respond immediately. His fingers fidgeted with the edges of the blanket as he tried to process the situation. Darian had requested? Hadn't he been the one who imprisoned him in the first place? Why did he suddenly care about what Eden needed?
Darian's voice broke through his thoughts. "I… I know I don't have the right to demand anything from you, but if you'll let me—let us help you, Eden—please, let us do this for you."
Eden hesitated, his body rigid with uncertainty. He could feel the maid gently guiding him to stand, her hands careful and respectful. She wasn't harsh, and she wasn't impatient. The gentleness of her touch startled him. But he still wasn't sure. How could he let anyone touch him after all that had happened?
"I don't need your help," Eden muttered, his voice rough. "I don't need anything from you."
Darian stayed silent, watching Eden, his face unreadable. But Eden could feel the sorrow radiating off of him. It was so different from the man he had known—the man who had forced him into a cage, who had taken everything away. This version of Darian was softer, quieter, full of guilt, and something else. Regret.
"I know," Darian said finally, his voice quieter than before. "But please, allow me to do this. For you. For what I've done."
Eden felt a tightness in his throat, as if the weight of everything he'd been holding back was threatening to break through. He didn't want to give in. He didn't want to trust. But something in Darian's voice made him falter. Something in the stillness of the room made him realize that, despite the pain, he wasn't completely alone.
The maid helped him undress, guiding him gently toward the bath. The warm water filled the room with a soothing fragrance of lavender, the steam rising in gentle curls. Eden let out a small sigh, the heat of the water seeming to calm his tense muscles. He sank into it slowly, the warmth enveloping him like a protective cocoon.
Darian stood at the edge of the room, watching quietly, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak, didn't move. He simply let Eden have this moment of peace, this small reprieve from everything that had happened.
As the maid finished bathing him, she began to help him dry off, her hands light and careful. Eden, still unsure of himself, kept his eyes closed, as if shutting out the world would somehow protect him from what was happening.
When she was finished, Eden was wrapped in soft linens. The maid guided him back to the bed, where Darian stood waiting. There was no expectation in his eyes, no command. Just a quiet understanding.
"Thank you," Eden whispered, his voice barely audible.
Darian nodded, his gaze soft but intense. "You don't need to thank me. You don't need to do anything. Just… take care of yourself. Please."
Eden couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He simply nodded, sinking into the warmth of the bed as the world around him seemed to fade away.
It wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a step—a fragile step toward something unknown.
For the first time in a long time, Eden allowed himself to wonder if this was the beginning of something different. Something better.