Chapter 8 — Fever Breaking Point (Confrontation #1)
Arin shivered under the thin blanket, the fever burning through his body.
Meira hovered nearby, wet cloth pressed to his forehead.
"Arin… you need to rest," she said softly.
"I'm fine," he muttered, voice weak but sharp.
"You're not fine," she snapped, a rare edge in her tone.
"I can see it. Stop pretending!"
Arin's jaw tightened. His hands gripped the sheets like claws.
"I don't need anyone," he whispered.
"Not now. Not ever."
Her eyes softened. "Arin… you're not alone. Not anymore. I'm here."
He shook his head violently. "You don't understand! You can't! Nobody does!"
Tears slipped from his eyes—silent, unwilling.
Years of rage, pain, and fear pressed down in waves he could no longer contain.
"I survived without anyone!" he gasped.
"I became… someone else! Someone unbreakable!"
Meira knelt beside him, calm and unshakable.
"You survived. And I don't want to break you. I want to help you breathe. Let me stay."
Arin's hands fell to his sides. The tension in his shoulders eased for a fraction of a second.
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
She smiled softly, brushing wet hair from his forehead.
"And I'm not going anywhere. Not for as long as it takes."
In that moment, for the first time in years, Arin realized that someone could stand beside him without trying to own him.
And it scared him more than the fever.