He did not save her-he armed her

Episode six

Mara’s POV

Mara lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, her eyes hollow and sunken, unfocused as if she was looking through the roof and into a past she could not escape. The white ceiling felt too bright, too clean, a cruel contrast to the chaos raging inside her chest. Her body felt heavy, yet fragile, like one wrong breath would shatter her completely.

Thoughts flooded her mind in cruel waves. Faces she wished to forget. Voices that still echoed even in silence. Moments that replayed themselves without mercy. Her chest tightened, and before she could stop it, tears slid down the sides of her face, soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

She curled inward, drawing her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to keep the broken pieces together. Her shoulders trembled as soft hiccups escaped her lips. The room was quiet, yet her pain was loud. Slowly, exhaustion overtook her grief, pulling her into an uneasy sleep filled with fragmented dreams and shadows she could not recognize.

Downstairs, the quiet of the villa was broken only by the soft clinking of utensils and the gentle hum of the kitchen stove.

Kylen stood inside the spacious kitchen, his sleeves rolled slightly as he spoke calmly to an elderly woman moving gracefully between the counter and the stove. His voice was firm yet gentle, carrying none of the cold authority he often used outside these walls.

“I want her meals light but nourishing,” he said. “No spices that are too strong. Make sure everything is fresh and warm. And please attend to anything she needs.”

The old woman nodded, a warm smile spreading across her wrinkled face. “Yes, Young Master. I understand.”

Her name was Aunty Calina.

As Kylen turned and walked out of the kitchen, Aunty Calina watched his retreating back with quiet admiration. There was something different about him today. Something softer. Thoughtful. Protective.

She sighed gently to herself.

In all her years of knowing Kylen, she had never seen him bring anyone into the Green Villa. Not a friend. Not a woman. Not even distant relatives stayed here. This place had always been his sanctuary, guarded fiercely from the world.

And yet, now there was a girl upstairs.

Aunty Calina’s mind wandered as she stirred the pot on the stove, the aroma of warm broth filling the kitchen. She had worked for Kylen’s parents long before he was born. She had held him as a baby, watched him take his first steps, cooked his meals when grief made him silent and withdrawn after his parents’ death. She was more than a servant. She was family.

Whoever that girl was, Aunty Calina could tell she mattered.

She focused back on her cooking, pouring care and intention into every dish. She prepared a plate of lightly seasoned chicken breast, tender and moist, grilled just enough to retain its softness. Steamed vegetables followed, vibrant greens and oranges arranged neatly, still holding their nutrients. A bowl of warm, clear broth simmered gently, infused with herbs meant to soothe both body and soul. Fresh juice was poured, its color bright and inviting.

When everything was ready, she arranged the dishes carefully on the dining table, making sure the presentation was comforting rather than overwhelming.

Satisfied, she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way toward Kylen’s study. She knocked softly.

“Come in,” Kylen’s voice replied.

She stepped inside and bowed slightly. “Young Master, the food is ready.”

“Alright. I’ll come down shortly,” Kylen answered.

Aunty Calina nodded and quietly left, closing the door behind her.

Kylen stood from his chair and walked through the corridor, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He stopped in front of Mara’s door and knocked.

There was no response.

A slight frown crossed his face. After a moment, he reached for the handle and gently turned it open.

Mara lay on the bed, her body tense, her face damp with sweat. Her brows were drawn together, lips parted slightly as if she was struggling even in her sleep. She looked small. Vulnerable. Lost.

Kylen moved closer and tapped the bed lightly.

“Mara.”

She stirred, blinking slowly as her eyes opened. Confusion flickered across her face before awareness returned.

“Maybe you should take a shower and come down for lunch,” he said quietly.

She nodded without a word and sat up. Kylen turned and left the room, giving her space.

Mara walked into the bathroom, letting the warm water cascade over her body. It washed away the sweat, but not the heaviness inside her chest. Still, when she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she felt slightly more grounded.

She opened the closet and froze.

Inside were neatly arranged clothes, all in her size. Comfortable dresses, soft fabrics, neutral and calming colors. Someone had thought about this. Carefully.

Yet, none of it stirred excitement or gratitude. Emotions felt distant, unreachable.

She chose a simple flowing gown, slipped into it, and tied her hair into a low ponytail. After a brief glance around the room, she stepped into the corridor and made her way downstairs.

Kylen was already seated at the dining table, eating quietly.

Mara approached slowly, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Aunty Calina appeared almost immediately, smiling gently as she served Mara a portion of the food. The warmth from the dishes rose toward her face, carrying comforting aromas that reminded her faintly of home, of mornings that once felt safe.

She picked up her cutlery and began to eat.

Each bite was slow, mechanical. The food was good, nourishing, but her mind was elsewhere. Still, she ate. A few bites of chicken. Some vegetables. A sip of broth. The warmth settled in her stomach, easing the emptiness just a little.

Kylen watched her quietly from across the table, saying nothing.

After a while, Mara lifted the glass of juice and drank from it. She paused, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass. Slowly, she looked up at Kylen, their eyes meeting briefly.

Then she stood.

Without a word, she turned and headed back toward the stairs.

Kylen dropped his fork onto the plate and sighed softly, leaning back in his chair. His jaw tightened, eyes dark with thoughts he did not voice.

The food was untouched now, growing cold, just like the quiet space between them.