Scars Before the Bond

Episode 4

The echo of that strange spark still rushed up my arm, as though lightning had struck my entire body. My hand pressed to my chest, fingers trembling against a racing heart.

What just happened?

Aeron Kane. Seeing him in person after weeks of emails should have felt awkward, maybe slightly embarrassing — but not like this. Not like my entire world had been turned inside out. There was something in his eyes, something wild and ancient, something that terrified me yet called to a part of me so deep I hadn't known it existed.

I stole glances at him as he moved among the boxes, each confident step making my insecurities scream louder. He was the kind of man who seemed to belong everywhere — tall, self-assured, calm. Meanwhile, I felt like a broken shell pretending to be a person. My skin still tingled where our hands touched.

Why would someone like him look at me that way?

What if he saw the truth?

That I wasn't strong, wasn't healed, was just barely stitched together.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence. I cleared my throat, the sound too loud in the echoing apartment. “So… do you do this a lot? Personally, help new hires move?”

He laughed, a low, warm sound that sank into my bones. “Not really. But for you? I figured I’d make an exception.”

My heart lurched at his casual warmth. Don’t read into it, my mind clawed. He’s just being kind. Don’t you dare hope.

I tried to laugh, but the sound was awkward. “Guess I should feel honored, then.”

“You should,” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t give up my Saturdays for just anyone.”

I shifted from foot to foot, fingers fidgeting with my hoodie's hem. “I guess I owe you coffee or something after all this.”

He paused, a smile spreading. “I’d never turn down coffee.”

My stomach flipped. Coffee. That simple word felt impossibly intimate, like a doorway into something I wasn’t sure I was allowed to walk through.

He wouldn’t want coffee with me if he knew who I really was, my mind hissed. If he knew about the nights I spent curled up on the floor, the times I wanted to disappear. If he knew how damaged I was, he'd run.

I forced myself to pick up a box, its weight grounding me for a moment. “I don’t really have much stuff,” I said, my voice too soft. “Makes it easier to leave when... when you have to.”

He set his box down gently, looking at me for a long moment. “Leave?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light. “Yeah. Life happens. People leave. It’s easier if you don’t have too many things tying you down.”

Aeron’s expression shifted, something serious flickering in his eyes. “I get that. But sometimes… people surprise you. Sometimes they stay.”

My throat tightened, and the old panic crawled up my spine.

Don’t believe him.

Don’t fall into that trap again.

People say they’ll stay — and then they don’t.

The last time I believed that, it destroyed me.

A sharp laugh escaped me. “You say that now, but you might change your mind once you see how annoying I can be.”

He smirked, lifting another box. “I think I can handle a little annoying.”

My chest twisted painfully. I wanted to believe him, but the voice inside me was relentless:

You’re too much. Too broken.

He’ll see it soon enough, and he’ll walk away like all the others.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone softer, more careful.

I froze, caught off guard. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Dangerous habit.”

A strangled laugh bubbled out of me, and I quickly turned away so he couldn’t see the tears gathering at the edges of my vision. He didn’t know what was inside me — the echo of every cruel word, every betrayal, every moment I was left alone. The voice that whispered I would never be enough.

I focused on the boxes, my hands trembling as I moved them, each breath a silent battle to keep my walls standing. But behind the panic, behind the doubt, there was something else — a quiet spark I couldn’t smother. A fragile, reckless hope that maybe, just maybe, I deserved more than survival. Maybe I deserve someone who looked at me the way he did, even if it terrified me. I didn’t know what this connection between us was. I didn’t know if he felt it too. But as he glanced at me again, his eyes warm and patient, that tiny spark flickered brighter. And I was terrified of what it might become.

********

We continued moving boxes in tense silence, each minute dragging and sparking with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Aeron set down the last box with a soft thud. He straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow, his eyes catching mine immediately.

“That’s the last of it,” he said, his voice casual, though something deeper flickered beneath the surface.

“Wow… we really got through it,” I murmured, glancing around the now-empty apartment. The empty space echoed, tightening my chest. “It looks so... hollow now.”

He nodded, studying me closely. “It’s always strange, isn’t it? Seeing a place cleared out, realizing how many memories are packed into boxes.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the old ghosts creeping up. “Yeah… strange.”

Aeron cleared his throat. “We’re going to head out with the van. I’ll make sure everything is unloaded at the new house before you get there.”

“Oh… you don’t have to—”

He cut me off with a quick shake of his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I want to. You’ll have enough to handle here — cleaning, keys, all the final details. Don’t worry about the heavy lifting.”

Something tightened in my chest, a mix of gratitude and panic. He was being kind — too kind.

He doesn’t really mean it, my mind whispered. He’ll disappear. They all do.

I forced a shaky smile. “Thank you, really. I… I appreciate it.”

He stepped a little closer, his voice lowering just slightly. “Take your time. We’ll make sure everything is waiting for you when you arrive.”

For a second, I just stood there, my mind blank. Then I nodded quickly, looking away before the tears welling in my eyes could fall. “Right. I’ll… I’ll see you there.”

Aeron hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but instead he just gave me one last warm look before turning to direct the movers. I watched them file out with the final boxes, my apartment emptying in minutes. When the door finally closed behind them, I sagged against the wall, my legs trembling.

He’ll see the real me soon enough, my mind spiraled.

He’ll leave. They all leave.

You’re too much, too broken, too difficult.

I pushed away from the wall, looking around at the bare walls that had been my home for almost ten years, each one echoing laughter and tears, late-night feedings, quiet moments with my daughter. Every corner felt like a goodbye. I took a deep breath, fighting the rising sob in my chest. There was still cleaning to do, keys to turn in, and a thousand ways to convince myself not to crumble before I walked out that door for the last time.

As I scrub counters and sweep the floors, my mind flickered to Aeron and the van pulling away, to the warmth in his eyes when he promised everything would be waiting for me. My heart ached with a confusing mixture of fear and longing.

Finally, with the keys in my hand and the apartment echoing with nothing but ghosts, I took one last look around. I whispered a quiet goodbye to the life I was leaving behind — the pain, the love, the loss — and stepped outside, locking the door behind me.

The drive to Black Frost Ridge felt endless. The road twisted through towering pines and rolling fog, the sky a heavy, endless gray. My mind wouldn’t stop churning: images of Aeron’s gaze, the touch of his hand, the warmth that seemed to seep past my defenses.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as the thoughts spiraled:

What if he’s just being polite?

What if I’m reading too much into a kindness that isn’t meant for me?

What if I disappoint him the second he sees the real me?

I glanced at the passenger seat where a single box sat — the one with my daughter’s photos. My chest constricted, a sharp ache that nearly forced me off the road. I thought of her laugh, her tiny hand gripping mine. She would have loved this new start. She would have given me the courage I couldn’t find now.

As I drove, my pulse kept rising, a steady, breathless thrum beneath my ribs. Every mile felt like a fragile thread pulling me toward something I couldn’t define — something terrifying, something alive.

I shook my head sharply, gripping the wheel tighter.

No. I can’t let my mind go there.

I reminded myself fiercely: I didn’t come here for him. I came here for me — for a new job, a new chance to rebuild. I’ve been mourning for too long. I need to focus on my work, on surviving, on proving to myself that I can stand alone.

Aeron was kind, but I can’t let myself get lost in what-ifs and daydreams. I have to be strong. I have to remember that feelings were dangerous; they could unravel everything I’d worked so hard to piece back together.

But under all that noise, there was a quiet whisper I couldn’t silence:

Maybe this is the beginning of something different.

Maybe this is the place I finally learn to breathe again.