Chapter 6: What Didn’t Matter
1576 Words
Christmas morning arrived softer than the night before.
The estate, once loud with voices and movement, felt calmer now—like it was exhaling after holding too much for too long.
Kiana woke later than usual.
Not because she was rested.
Because she didn’t want to think.
But the moment she opened her eyes—
she did.
Last night didn’t matter.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
Right.
She pushed herself out of bed, dressing quickly, choosing something simple—comfortable—like she could somehow return to normal if she tried hard enough.
Downstairs, the house was already awake.
Laughter, softer this time.
The clinking of cups.
Low conversations that didn’t demand attention.
The Christmas tree still stood in the living hall, lights dimmer in the morning glow, gifts scattered beneath it—some already opened, others waiting.
“Kiana,” her mother called, smiling. “Finally.”
“Good morning.”
“Come,” Reene said gently. “You haven’t opened yours yet.”
Kiana stepped forward.
This she could do.
Normal things.
Her father’s gift came first.
Simple wrapping.
Inside—
a custom-bound sketchbook.
Not store-bought.
Made.
Designed for her.
Her fingers traced the cover slowly.
“You always complained about the paper quality,” Liam said.
Kiana looked up, her voice softer now. “I didn’t think you were listening.”
“I always listen.”
She smiled faintly, something in her chest easing.
“Thank you… it’s exactly what I needed.”
Her mother’s gift followed.
A delicate bracelet.
Elegant. Understated.
Reene fastened it around her wrist herself.
“It suits you.”
Kiana glanced down, then back up. “It’s perfect… thank you. It’s really meaningful.”
Reene’s expression softened slightly.
Kiana hesitated a moment—then added quietly,
“And the trip… thank you for that too.”
Liam looked at her, understanding immediately.
“You saw it?”
“I did,” she nodded, a small smile forming despite everything. “Takawa… for the spring festival… with Freya.”
Reene gave a small nod. “You’ve been wanting that for a while.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually—” she stopped, shaking her head slightly. “It’s… more than I expected.”
“You deserve it,” Liam said simply.
That—
settled somewhere deep.
“Thank you,” she said again, softer this time. “I really mean it.”
And she did.
Because it wasn’t just a trip.
It was something that felt like hers.
“Open mine last,” Nish’s voice came from behind her.
Kiana turned slightly, nodding. “Okay.”
When the others were done—
she picked up his.
Opened it carefully.
A leather-bound case.
Inside—
his drafting tools.
Used.
Maintained.
His.
“These were mine,” Nish said. “From Barau.”
Kiana looked up immediately. “You’re giving me yours?”
“I’m upgrading,” he shrugged. “And you need them more than I do.”
Her fingers hovered over them, careful, almost reverent.
This wasn’t just practical.
It was personal.
“You’re always borrowing,” he added. “Now you won’t have to.”
Kiana exhaled softly, something warm settling in her chest.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “This… means a lot.”
Then, after a small pause, she added—
“They got me a trip.”
Nish glanced at her. “Yeah?”
“To Takawa. Spring festival. With Freya.”
A faint smirk touched his lips. “Finally.”
“I know,” she let out a small breath. “I’ve been talking about it forever.”
“You’ll like it,” he said simply.
Kiana nodded.
Then softer—
“I really needed something like that.”
His gaze lingered for a second.
Like he understood more than she said.
“I know,” he repeated.
One gift remained.
She didn’t touch it.
Didn’t look at it for too long.
Because she already knew.
And she wasn’t ready.
Breakfast was called soon after.
The table filled quickly.
Conversations resumed.
Normal.
Controlled.
Kiana sat, reaching for her cup—
and then—
the room shifted.
And then—
Ray entered.
Kiana didn’t look at him.
Couldn’t.
Not after—
Last night didn’t matter.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Across the table—
Ray’s gaze moved once over the space.
Paused.
On her.
Then—
lower.
To the gifts.
To the one—
still untouched.
His.
Something in his expression shifted.
Small.
Sharp.
Noticeable.
Kiana saw it.
And looked away first.
“I forgot something,” she said abruptly, standing.
She didn’t wait.
Didn’t explain.
Just left.
And behind her—
she felt it.
His attention.
Following.
Outside, the air was colder.
Sharper.
But not enough.
Because footsteps followed anyway.
Measured.
Certain.
Unavoidable.
Morning at the stables felt quieter than usual.
Not because it was empty—it never was—but because Kiana couldn’t hear anything past the noise in her own head.
The familiar scent of hay and wood, the soft shifting of horses, the distant clink of metal—it was all there. The same as always.
But she wasn’t.
She hadn’t slept.
Not properly.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again—
the way Ray had looked at her,
the way his voice had dropped,
the way her body had reacted before her mind could catch up.
And then—
the way he had just left.
Like nothing had happened.
Her grip tightened around the reins in her hand.
“Careful,” the caretaker said lightly. “You’re going to scare him.”
Kiana exhaled, loosening her hold immediately. “Sorry.”
“You’re distracted.”
“Just tired.”
He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her—but didn’t push.
She was grateful for that.
Because the moment she heard footsteps behind her—
she knew.
Before she even turned.
Ray.
Of course.
Because apparently, avoiding him was not an option the universe was willing to offer her.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said.
Kiana let out a quiet, humorless laugh, still facing the horse. “That’s funny.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she turned then, meeting his gaze directly, “considering you walked out of my room like nothing happened.”
There it was.
No hesitation.
No softening.
Just truth.
Ray didn’t react immediately. His expression stayed composed, controlled—like always.
Too controlled.
“I was drunk,” he said finally. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Kiana blinked once.
Then scoffed.
“That’s your explanation?”
“It’s the truth.”
“No,” she shook her head slightly, a bitter edge slipping into her voice, “that’s convenient.”
His jaw tightened just slightly. “You were practically naked, Kiana.”
The words landed sharp.
Cold.
For a second, she just stared at him.
Then—
“Are you serious right now?” she let out a disbelieving breath. “You walked into my room without knocking.”
“I didn’t expect—”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is,” he cut in, his voice firmer now. “You should be more careful.”
Something in her snapped at that.
“Careful?” she repeated, incredulous. “In my own room?”
Ray didn’t answer that.
Instead, he looked at her—really looked this time—but whatever had been there last night was gone.
Locked away.
Like it had never existed.
“Last night didn’t matter,” he said.
And that—
that hurt more than anything else.
Kiana felt it settle somewhere deep, sharp and quiet.
“I see you as nothing more than a kid,” he added, almost casually. “You’re reading too much into it.”
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Her throat felt tight, but she refused to let it show.
Refused to give him that.
“Right,” she said, her voice steady in a way she didn’t feel. “Of course.”
Ray watched her for a second, like he was trying to read something she wasn’t letting him see.
Then—
almost as an afterthought—
“Stay away from Kylan.”
Her head snapped slightly.
“What?”
“He’s not someone you should be getting close to.”
Kiana let out a short laugh, disbelief mixing with something far more bitter.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m telling you what’s best.”
“No,” she shook her head, stepping back slightly, “you don’t get to do that after—”
She stopped herself.
Because she wasn’t going to say it.
Wasn’t going to give last night any more weight than he just had.
“After what?” he asked quietly.
Kiana met his gaze, something colder settling into her expression now.
“After nothing,” she said.
Just like he had.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
And in that silence—something shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Enough to change things.
“Thanks for the warning,” she added lightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Ray’s gaze hardened slightly. “Kiana—”
“I can do what I want,” she cut in, her voice calm, firm.
A beat.
Then she turned.
Walked past him.
Didn’t look back.
And this time—
he didn’t stop her.
- Writer
