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889 Words
"What is a maid like you doing wandering around here at this hour? Looking to steal something?"
The deep voice sliced through the silence of the night, cold and sharp as a razor. Aria flinched, almost dropping the mineral water bottle in her hand. Beneath the dim garden light and the drizzle that was beginning to dampen the earth, she saw the broad silhouette. Asher was leaning against a marble pillar, his head tilted back as he stared up at the dark sky. The cherry of the cigarette between his fingers glowed amber, sending up a thin trail of smoke that was instantly swept away by the night wind.
Aria pulled her thin, damp jacket tighter around herself. Her palm, wrapped in a makeshift bandage, throbbed with a sharp pain—the lingering "gift" from the shattered glass in the dining room earlier.
"I... I just needed some fresh air," Aria squeaked, keeping her eyes glued to Asher’s polished leather shoes, avoiding his piercing eagle gaze.
Asher let out a scoff, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. He extinguished his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the garden table and took a step closer. Every single one of his footsteps felt like the ticking of a clock counting down to Aria's execution.
"Fresh air? Or are you just looking for attention?" Asher stopped right in front of Aria. The scent of expensive tobacco and potent masculine perfume entirely surrounded Aria’s senses. "After that little falling drama in front of the dining table, now you show up here. Do you honestly think these cheap tricks will work?"
Aria looked up, her eyes, swollen from crying, now flashing with suppressed emotion. "Do you think I intentionally threw myself onto shattered glass just to get your attention? Do you think my wounds are fake?"
Asher fell silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to look at the bandage on Aria’s palm, which was beginning to seep with blood. A strange flicker crossed his eyes—perhaps guilt, or perhaps another wave of his fractured memory striking back. However, he quickly hardened his jaw.
"I don't care," Asher said flatly. "But there’s one thing you need to know: stop looking at me with those eyes. Eyes that pretend to know me better than anyone else. It’s disgusting."
Aria let out a bitter laugh, a sound that echoed miserably amidst the falling rain. "Disgusting? And yet, once upon a time, there was a boy who told me that my eyes were the only place he ever felt safe."
Asher’s body stiffened. His eyes narrowed sharply. "What did you say?"
"Asher..." Aria called out his name in a voice that was barely a whisper, yet trembling violently. "Do you remember the Old Shed? Behind this house, amidst the stacks of rotting timber and the suffocating smell of dust? The place where the roof leaked every time it rained like this, and we would sit huddled together under a single broken umbrella just to draw clothing patterns in the dirt?"
The drizzle suddenly turned into a heavy downpour, drenching both of their faces. Asher stood completely paralyzed. The memory of a place that was dark, damp, yet filled with warmth suddenly slammed into his mind. The Old Shed. Aileen had never mentioned the Old Shed. Aileen always spoke about garden parties and the remnants of expensive cakes in the living room.
"How do you know about that place?" Asher gripped Aria’s shoulders forcefully, his voice rising an octave. "Who told you? Was it Aileen? Have you been spying on our conversations?"
Aria winced in pain from his grip, but she didn't back down. "Nobody told me, Asher! Because I was there! I was the one holding the umbrella! I was the one who stitched the wound on your knee when you fell in front of that shed door, not her!"
"Enough!" Asher roared, his voice booming over the sound of the pouring rain.
He shoved Aria’s shoulders until the girl stumbled backward, nearly collapsing onto the muddy ground. Asher’s face was now flooded with overwhelming rage—the fury of someone whose world was beginning to shake, and who was far too terrified to admit it.
"Don't you dare weave a cheap sob story just because you're greedy for my family's wealth!" Asher pointed a trembling finger at Aria's face. "Aileen already gave me the proof! She has the handkerchief! She has the memories! And you? You're just a clumsy maid with a sickening, wild imagination!"
Aria sobbed, her tears now mixing with the rain streaming down her cheeks. "Open your eyes, Asher... please..."
"Shut your mouth!" Asher snapped again, this time so loudly that the veins in his neck bulged. "Listen to me very carefully, Aria. Don't you ever pretend to know anything about my past just to get close to me! You're just a parasite who is lucky enough to live here. You will never be able to match Aileen, not even in a thousand years!"
Asher turned around, storming back into the grand mansion without looking back, leaving Aria collapsed beneath the icy, relentless rain. In the darkness of the garden, Aria could only wrap her arms around herself, feeling her heart shatter into pieces—far more broken than when her body had crashed into the fractured glass on the dining table.
- Writer
