Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece Chapter 194: Burning Secrets [2]

The words burned in Eleanora’s throat.

’I’m a regressor. I’ve seen you die. The world ended, and I woke up here. Desperate to change it.’

She wanted to scream it. To say everything, right now. But when she opened her mouth. Nothing ca out. Not a sound.

Her fingers tightened around the teacup in her hands. The white porcelain pressed against her skin, her knuckles turning pale.

The tea inside. Sweet and warm just monts ago, now slled too thick, too strong. It turned her stomach.

Like it was mocking her.

Like it knew she was too afraid to speak the truth.

Besides her. Kyle sat, lazily sipping his chocolate latte.

A bit of whipped cream stuck to his upper lip, and for one ridiculous second.

Eleanora felt the urge to lean over and wipe it off. Like this was normal. Like things were fine.

But nothing was fine.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to look away.

Focus.

She swallowed her throat, dry. Her voice ca out quieter than she wanted.

"The hospital attack," she said. "Who were they?"

Kyle didn’t answer right away. His hand froze mid-motion, latte halfway to his lips.

Then he shrugged. Like it didn’t matter. "Dunno. So cultists, I guess."

But Eleanora caught it.

The tiny pause. The way his thumb tapped twice against the mug. A habit. His eyes drifted toward the fireplace instead of looking at her.

He was lying.

Or hiding sothing.

Her chest tightened.

’Why?’

Did he not trust her?

Did he think she couldn’t handle it?

The silence stretched between them like a rope pulled too tight.

The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire behind them.

Eleanora set her teacup down.

"You don’t know" she said slowly. "Or you don’t want to know?"

Kyle’s brows twitched. "What’s that supposed to an?"

’It ans you’re keeping things from . Just like I’m keeping things from you.’

She let out a shaky breath through her nose. "It ans you never tell anything."

Kyle’s expression shifted. The surprise faded, replaced by sothing softer. Guilt, maybe. His shoulders sank slightly.

"Eleanora—" he started.

"No." She stood up. The teacup wobbled, spilling the tea onto the saucer.

"You almost died. Twice. Thrice. And both tis, I—"

Her voice cracked.

’I couldn’t do anything.’

Kyle looked up at her from the couch. His blue eyes wide, concerned. "I’m fine now," he said quietly.

"That’s not the point!"

Eleanora’s voice cracked through the air like a whip, loud and sharp.

Kyle flinched. His shoulders tensing as if the words had struck him physically.

Her hands shook at her sides.

Her nails dug into her palms, sharp and painful.

The pressure in her chest was too much.

Anger, frustration, fear.

All tangled up inside her like a storm waiting to explode.

The room felt smaller. Heavier. The fire in the hearth still crackled.

But the warmth had turned suffocating, like it was pressing down on her from all sides.

Kyle stared up at her, blue eyes wide with shock. He looked like she’d just hit him.

And maybe she had. Not with her hands, but with everything she hadn’t said until now.

Everything she needed to say.

Everything he refused to see.

Because this wasn’t just about the hospital attack. Or the strange cultists. Or the half-truths he kept throwing at her like they were enough to keep her quiet.

It was about her.

It was about the way he looked at her.

Like she was fragile. Like she might break if he told her sothing real.

And she was so tired of it.

Without thinking. Before her courage could slip away. She stepped forward and grabbed the front of his uniform.

The fabric bunched in her fists as she yanked him forward, pulling him down to her level.

Kyle sucked in a sharp breath, startled. His face was so close now. She could feel the heat of it.

Feel the way his breath shook against her cheek.

"Do you really think I’m that weak?" she whispered.

Her voice trembled, but not from fear.

From the weight of everything she had kept inside for far too long.

She felt his heartbeat through the fabric. Fast and uneven. Like hers.

"I—what?" he stamred.

"You keep lying to ," she said, the words hard and clear.

"You act like I’ll break if you tell the truth. Like I can’t handle it."

"I’m not so fragile princess who needs protecting!"

Her grip tightened.

"So stop treating like one."

Silence dropped between them like a stone.

Neither of them moved. The only sound was the rush of their uneven breathing. Tangled in the space between them.

Then—

Kyle’s hand ca up and gently wrapped around her wrist.

He didn’t pull her away. Didn’t try to escape. He just held on.

"I’m not lying," he said quietly. "I really don’t know who they were."

She searched his face.

Truth.

Her anger faltered, but the frustration remained, burning under her skin.

He wasn’t lying about the cultists.

But he was lying.

About sothing else.

Sothing bigger.

Her jaw clenched. Her hands loosened. The fabric of his shirt slipped from her grip.

And then.

Without thinking.

She shoved him.

Kyle stumbled back, falling into the couch with a soft grunt.

He landed with a slight bounce, hands gripping the cushions to steady himself.

Eleanora didn’t back away.

She followed.

Her hands planted on either side of his head as she leaned over him. The couch dipped under her weight.

Their faces were inches apart.

Too close.

His breath hitched. So did hers.

She could feel the tension between them like a wire pulled tight, ready to snap.

Kyle’s voice ca out low, rough. "Eleanora—"

"Shut up," she whispered.

Her heart slamd against her ribs.

This was reckless. This was stupid.

But she didn’t care.

She was done with pretending. Done with biting her tongue.

"You want the truth?" she breathed. "Fine. Here it is—"

Kyle’s eyes darkened. His lips parted. Like he might say sothing too.

Eleanora opened her mouth—

And the door burst open.

"Eleanora, have you seen my—oh."

Anastasia froze in the doorway.

———