Sweet Hatred Chapter 317: Silence

KAEL

From the mont I carried her out of that hospital bed, I knew. Sothing was wrong with Aria, sothing deeper than exhaustion, heavier than sickness.

It clung to her like a shadow I couldn’t peel away. She didn’t fight the way I expected. No fire, no claws. Just silence. And that silence cut deeper than any of her words ever had.

In the car, I kept glancing at her. Her face turned toward the window, pale against the glass, eyes blank like she wasn’t even here. I would’ve given anything for her to scream at , to curse , to shove away. At least then she’d be present, alive. But this—this was her drifting, and I had no way of following her into whatever hell she’d fallen.

So I told myself the only thing I could bear to believe: Get her safe first. Fix the rest later. But even as I repeated it, I felt the lie in my chest. What if there was no fixing this? What if I’d already lost her, and I was just carrying around a body that didn’t want to breathe anymore?

By the ti we boarded the jet, my nerves were raw. I laid her down on the bed in the cabin, the hum of the engines filling the space between us. She curled onto her side, small, too small. My hands hovered over her, aching to touch, to hold, but afraid I’d crush what was left of her.

"Aria..." I tried, voice rougher than I ant. No answer. Her breathing was steady, shallow. "How are you feeling?"

She said nothing.

"Say sothing," I begged under my breath. I would’ve taken anything, an insult, a whisper, even just my na. But nothing ca.

Her silence hollowed out, scraping bone from the inside. I clenched my jaw, swallowed my own panic, and forced myself to sit there. To stay. To wait. I couldn’t push her, not now. All I could do was guard her in this fragile, devastating quiet.

But the truth gnawed at : I was terrified. Terrified that she was slipping further away, into a place I couldn’t reach, a place she might never return from. And if that happened, if she truly left this way, I knew, I wouldn’t survive it.

So I stayed by her side, helpless, waiting for the mont she might reach for again.

The silence stretched like a blade between us, long and rciless. I sat there, every muscle wound tight, watching her chest rise and fall. Waiting. Praying.

And then—finally—her voice cut through. Soft. Piercing.

"Why did you co for , Kael?"

The question nearly stopped my heart. I opened my mouth, but before I could breathe out a word, she kept going.

"I don’t understand you," she whispered, still facing the other side, her voice as thin as glass. "I don’t understand what I am to you. What exactly am I?"

What was she to ?

She was everything.

"Aria—" I tried, but she didn’t let .

"I really thought I was just a convenience to you. That’s what you said. Disposable. Sothing that ran out of ti, so you had to make room for the next best thing. And I believed you."

Her words twisted into like knives. My own voice, my own cruelty, replayed in my head, her face the last ti I saw her, my tone like ash in my mouth. And now, here she was, broken, fragile, yet still sharp enough to cut deeper than any blade could.

But still, behind her words, my mory betrayed , the video of her with Sylas flashing back like it hadn’t burned enough the first ti. It seared into my mind like hot steel on skin. His hands on her, his mouth too close, her not pushing him away.

I’d hated him for it. Hated myself more for caring. For wishing I could hate her too. For wishing I could sever whatever she had tangled around . But I couldn’t. I never could. And truth be told, I didn’t want to... even if I tried to convince myself otherwise.

My jaw clenched until it ached. My throat burned. Apologies were never sothing I knew how to give. People apologized to , not the other way around. But here I was, stripped of every defense, scrambling like a man drowning in his own sins.

"I’m sorry," I said finally, the words quiet, raw, unsteady.

The silence after was brutal. A heartbeat. Two. Her shoulders shifted faintly, but she didn’t turn to .

"That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for," she murmured at last.

I almost broke then. Almost.

But she rolled onto her back, and for the first ti her hollow eyes t mine. "I want to use the bathroom," she said, pushing herself slowly upright.

When her face tilted toward under the cabin light, I caught a glimpse, and my stomach dropped again. Her lips pale, her eyes rimd in shadows like bruises. She looked carved down to nothing, like she’d been hollowed out and left half-alive.

This couldn’t possibly just be exhaustion, could it?

I caught her wrist before she could move past , my hand trembling despite the steel I tried to hold. "Tell what’s wrong," I begged, my voice breaking despite myself. "Please."

Her gaze flickered away instantly, as if even looking at cost her too much. "What did the doctor tell you?" she asked instead, flat, distant.

I froze. For a second, I didn’t know what to say, I wanted to just keep her here with a little longer, just to keep from confirming the fear chewing at my chest. But I forced the truth out, quiet, careful.

"Extre exhaustion. Severe anemia. And..." I swallowed, "...a blood-weakness condition from prolonged neglect."

The truth felt like a lie. I had noticed the way the doctor spoke like he was making up things. It didn’t sir right with . And I could get the truth with other doctors but I doubt she would allow them near her. P

She gave the faintest, humorless laugh. "Then that should answer your question."

And with that, she slid her hand from mine, slow but final, and pushed herself toward the bathroom.

I sat frozen in the silence she left behind, watching her move like a ghost across the cabin, my chest screaming that she was lying to . That sothing was buried deeper, sothing she didn’t trust enough to say. And all I could do—pathetic, powerless—was follow, paranoid and terrified, clinging to the hope that if I nursed her back to health, maybe, just maybe, she’d let back in.

The silence between us lasted the entire drive, the entire flight, the entire ride through the gates of my estate in Spain. Her eyes stayed fixed sowhere beyond the cabin and I couldn’t reach her. Not with words. Not with anything.

When we finally arrived, I tried to lift her again, but she pulled back, her voice flat. "I can walk."

So I didn’t argue. I just guided her instead, my hand brushing her back, terrified she’d collapse if I let go.

Everything was already in place. Food, dicine, the doctor’s instructions, my n had moved faster than ever, and still it didn’t feel enough. I watched her disappear into the guest room... my room now, because there was no way I’d let her stay anywhere else, and heard the water start running.

I busied myself plating food, placing it neatly on the nightstand upstairs. The motions were chanical, but my mind was miles away, stuck on the hollow look in her eyes.

And then it struck ... the shower.

It had been running too long.

My chest tightened. I waited another thirty seconds, telling myself I was overreacting, but the panic clawed higher. My body moved before I even thought. I pushed the bathroom door open.

"Aria—"

Steam billowed out, fogging the glass, curling against my skin. She stood under the spray, fully still, her dark hair plastered down, water soaking her clothes, not moving. Not flinching. Not alive, it looked like.

Her head turned at the sound of my voice, slow, deliberate, water dripping down her pale face. Her expression was flat. Empty.

I froze, words tangling uselessly on my tongue. "I— I’m sorry, I thought— I thought sothing—"

Her voice cut off, soft but sharp enough to slit through my panic.

"You need to learn so manners."

The words hit harder than a punch. She wasn’t startled. She wasn’t anything. Just quiet, cold rebuke, as if I was an intruder in her world, not the man who’d carried her across countries.

I stood there, drenched in my own helplessness, watching her not even bother to shield herself from . And I realized with a sick weight in my chest—she wasn’t even trying to live in this mont. She was just... enduring it.