As I closed the door behind me, the soft click echoed in the dim room, and I was immediately enveloped by the comforting warmth of the cozy room like a familiar cloak. The elven city of Liriendel was alive with the soft rustling of leaves outside, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the open window, making the air feel ethereal.

The night air was cool outside, but inside, the flickering flame of the hearth bathed the room in a golden glow. The comforting scent of wood smoke and spiced herbs lingered in the air, an aroma that felt like home after our restless travels.

My gaze fell upon Kian, and my brows furrowed in concern to what I'm witnessing. Kian stood by his bed, casting an odd shadow across the plush carpet as he vigorously cleaned his sheets despite his recent circumstance. His hair, a wild sprout of deep crimson, danced around his serious face. And I could see the remnants of fatigue lingering in his blue eyes, their normally vibrant hue dulled by recent illness.

"Kian," I called gently, my heart aching at the sight of him moving about when he had only just recovered from fever. The determination in him was a palpable force, yet I felt it pushed to its limits. "Why are you moving around? You should be resting."

Kian looked up, his red hair catching the light, framing his face like a fiery halo. “Oh, Enaeya,” he greeted me as he wiped the sweat from his brow, a faint smile breaking the seriousness of his expression. "I’m fine, really. I didn’t want to trouble anyone by lying around doing nothing."

"Trouble?" I echoed and crossed the room, stepping closer to him. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping he could feel the sincerity behind my gesture. "You’re not troubling anyone, Kian.”

He halted his movements, his hands stilling, and turned his gaze to the floor. “But I am. I know I am. Mister Haldir... he’s been very generous to us. I just don’t want to owe him more than I already do.” His brow furrowed, a mixture of guilt and stubbornness etched across his features.

As I watched Kian wrestle with his conscience, I knew he was far too noble for his own good, often overburdened by a sense of obligation. "Kian," I replied softly, "Even Mister Haldir told me to let you rest for a few days. You are not troubling anyone just by recovering from an illness."

He shook his head stubbornly, that fire in his spirit refusing to flicker out. "I have put you and Mister Haldir through enough trouble already. You’ve done so much for us. I don’t want to owe any more."I could see the conflict warring within him, a battle between pride and the kind of kinship that had formed so quickly between us.

I felt a pang in my heart at his words. This young man, so protective and steadfast, was made stronger by his unwavering sense of duty. Feeling an urge to ground him, I reached up to his forehead, touching his skin gently, seeking to relay my concern through that simple act. Kian flinched at first, his body taut under my fingers, but then he relaxed into my touch as if seeking comfort.

“Kian, you still have a slight fever,” I said softly while pulling my hand back reluctantly. “You need to rest. Please.”

Kian shook his head defiantly. “I'm fine,” he insisted, although uncertainty tinged his voice.

At that moment, I made a decision. I sat down on the edge of Kian's bed, the fabric cool against my skin. "No," I insisted, my eyes searching his. "You need to sit and rest, if not for your own sake, then for Kira’s."

With a heavy sigh, Kian turned his gaze away, unwilling to meet my pleading eyes. I didn’t want to push him, but I grabbed his hand, holding it tight as I implored him once more. "Kian, for your own good, please rest. I care too much for you to watch you burn out."

Kian held my eyes for a long moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between us. He inhaled deeply, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. Slowly, he sank down beside me on the bed, his posture still tense but his resolve wavering.

"Why do you care so much about us?" he asked quietly, staring at the wooden floor. "It hasn't been that long since we met."

I turned to the open window, the mild spring breeze caressing my skin like a gentle whisper. I thought of the shared laughter with Kira, the warmth that radiated from her smile when she felt safe, and the protective presence that Kian provided us. “Family,” I started softly, the word tasted sweet on my tongue. “I see you and Kira as family now.”

Kian didn’t speak, so I continued. “Even though our meeting was not so long ago, it feels as if I’ve known you both forever. Since arriving here with you, I’ve felt a kinship. It’s as if we were meant to stumble into each other’s paths,” my voice was steady with conviction as I spoke. “Around you, I feel safe and comfortable.”

I turned to him, my heart fluttering. “You, Kian, are like the siblings I never had, you and your sister. The two of you are my friends.”

A shadow passed over Kian's face, a veil of vulnerability cloaked in his normally calm demeanor. He seemed lost in thought, looking downward, perhaps unraveling the layers to his own feelings. Then, without a word, he leaned closer, his gaze burning in my direction, a fire behind the blue of his eyes.

Without warning, Kian shifted, gently pushing me back onto the bed. I gasped — surprise mingling with fluttering confusion — as he hovered above me, his eyes piercing yet softened with unspoken thoughts. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension of our closeness electrifying the air around us.

"What are you doing, Kian?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Enaeya,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. “What if I don’t want you to see me as a mere friend?”

I furrowed my brow, confusion dancing in my thoughts like flickering candlelight. “What do you mean?” I stammered, my breath catching in the sudden urgency of the moment.

Without an answer, he leaned down, our lips barely brushing before his — the softest of kisses, tentative yet electric. The warmth of Kian’s lips caused a sharp pang in my chest, laden with memories. I froze, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, memories flooding back to me of Damian with his mischievous grin and wit that could cut through the deepest shadows, always laughing, always alive. I had lost him too soon, a jewel snatched from the world, leaving behind only echoes of laughter.

Kian pulled back, searching my eyes with an intensity that ignited both fear and confusion. His own were wet with unshed tears, the vulnerability in his voice fragile as a spun glass. “This is what I meant,” he whispered, his admission hanging heavy in the air.

I blinked rapidly, words escaping me like wisps of smoke. My heart, which still belonged to the memory of Damian, thudded in confusion.“Kian, I…” I stumbled for words, grappling with the storm inside me. “I don’t know what to say.”

Kian closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath, the weight of his confession palpable between us. “I’m sorry for kissing you,” he murmured, sadness threading through his voice, “But I don’t see you as a friend. I see you as something more.” His gaze was earnest, filled with a deep yearning that made my chest tighten.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick and suffocating, the kind that fills the space with unspoken emotions. As Kian shifted away, returning to the edge of the bed to place some distance between us, I found myself gazing at the intricately carved ceiling, tracing the patterns in the woodwork with unfocused eyes, my thoughts racing. The weight of his words kept echoing, a haunting refrain. How did one unpack a confession like that? It felt like an uncharted territory, an explosion in the delicate fabric of my heart.

I risked a glance at Kian who sat in silence, his back turned to me, the stoic lines of him now tinged with vulnerability. Hesitation pulled me back, but I finally spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you like me?” I asked softly, my breath ragged from my unresting nerves.

He released a wistful laugh, a sound that seemed to echo with a hint of sadness. “It’s your kindness, Enaeya.” He paused, and I could almost hear the heartbeat of the inn, filled with our shared tension. “Actually, the first time I saw you... Your beauty captivated me. But it’s was your kindness that struck me the most. The way you lit up the room with your smile, how you treated my sister, always with patience and love, and how you cared for those around you. It draws me to you.”

My heart fluttered at his words, the honesty wrapped in admiration felt like a caress. I took a deep breath, considering how to respond. “Kian, I—”

“I understand,” he interrupted, his voice steady, albeit strained. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel.” And there it was — the weight of his words hung heavily in the room. A confession paired with the understanding that not every feeling would have a corresponding response.

As the minutes stretched out, the silence between us spoke volumes. Outside, the city of Liriendel pulsed with life — laughter, music, and the soft rustling of leaves. I clenched my fists at my side, torn. Kian deserved more than my uncertain heart, but could I bear to push him away?

Finally, the truth unravelled within me. “Kian,” I began slowly, my voice trembling, “You mean so much to me. You are a wonderful person, and I care for you… but my heart,” I paused, swallowing hard, “My heart still belongs to someone else.”

A beat of silence passed, and then Kian nodded slowly, releasing a breath as if he'd been holding it. “I understand,” he murmured, comprehension painting his expression in shades of melancholy.

“But that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of love, Kian. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my friend,” I said, my voice earnest, hoping he saw my sincerity through the haze of emotions.

“A friend who kissed you,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I suppose it’s a step up from mere friendship.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of our situation, my heart swelling with gratitude for his understanding. “Maybe we can figure this out,” I suggested, “Together?”

“We can try,” he agreed and he offered a soft, hesitant smile to me before looking away, his hands rested on his knees as the atmosphere around us shifted uncomfortably.

An awkward silence had draped over us, heavy yet uncertain, a quiet reflection of the conversation we just had. Kira was asleep on her bed — her soft breath the only sound breaking the stillness.

Just as I was about to break the silence, a small sound broke through; Kira stirred from her peaceful rest. With a sleepy yawn that spoke of innocence and exhaustion, she blinked her bright, curious eyes open. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice sweet and mingling with the lingering dreams of slumber.

I immediately pushed myself up to a sitting position, my heart lifting at the sight of her. “Good evening, Kira.” I greeted her warmly, my smile mirroring the little glimmer in her eyes as the edges of her face lit up, though she still had her sleepy expression.

Kian, still playing the role of the ever-calm guardian, had already risen. He crossed the small room and sat on the edge of Kira’s bed. The tension between us eased as I watched their brother-sister dynamic — their bond like a thread of silken gossamer, strong yet delicate.

“It’s just after dinner time,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “How are you feeling, little one?”

Kira stretched her arms, her curls bouncing in a messy halo around her face as she let out a tiny sigh and then, with a massive yawn, she said, “I’m hungry!”

Kian nodded, his calm presence grounding us both. “Don’t worry, Kira. Enaeya already ordered food, didn’t you?” He glanced at me, seeking affirmation, and I offered him a nod.

“Yes. It will be here soon,” I said, though I scarcely felt certain since preparations at the inn had been slow of late, probably because of what happened in the city. I felt a sense of anticipation welling inside me, eager to see Kira's joyful spirit awaken again after the illness that had left her frail and weary, like a wilting flower in need of sunlight.

As if the universe had conspired wonderfully to oblige us, a swift knock reverberated through the room. “Food delivery!” a voice called from beyond the door.

I jumped up, excitement rushing through me as I dashed toward the door. I opened it to reveal a lithe elven worker carrying a platter of steaming food that balanced skillfully in her arms. The fragrant aroma enveloped us, a rich fusion of savory herbs, fresh bread, and the delicious scent of meat that made my stomach rumble in agreement.

“Thank you for ordering!” The worker said with a nod as she stepped inside, placing the platter on the small wooden table in the corner of the room before retreating back to the hall, leaving the intoxicating scent to linger.

“Food is here!” I called to the siblings, who eagerly perked up in anticipation. I walked over to the table, an array of colorful plates before us, beckoning us to partake. “Eat while it’s still hot!”

Kira sat up immediately, and Kian swiftly lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, setting her down upon the chair at the table. Her giggle sliced through the remnants of the earlier awkwardness, and my heart fluttered, glad to hear her cheerful laughter reverberate against the stone walls.

“Kian! I can sit by myself!” Kira announced, her playful pout caused my heart to swell with warmth.

“I see that.” Kian chuckled, his voice softened by a rare warmth. I found myself smiling as they went about their little routine, Kian settling down beside his sister and maintaining his protective watch, even in this simple act of enjoying dinner.

Feeling momentarily lost among their joy, I brought dishes to the table, placing a fragrant garlic bread and a bowl of warm pottage and blawmanger before them. Kira’s laughter filled my ears — music I didn’t know how much I needed to hear until now.

“Enaeya, you should eat with us.” Kian turned to me, his eyes urging me to join them.

I hesitated for a moment, the act feeling too personal, too intimate. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I ordered this food for you both since you haven’t eaten since getting sick,” I insisted, my heart fluttering at their kindness.

“Don’t say that, Enaeya. You've been taking care of us,” Kian countered, clear frustration etched in the lines of his expression. “You deserve to share in this moment.”

“Yeah!” Kira chimed in, blinking at me like a doe caught in a beam of sunlight. “Please, Enaeya!” Her soft plea echoed Kian’s stubbornness.

A soft sigh escaped my lips, and I smiled, realizing how I couldn’t refuse such earnest faces. “You both are very unfair, ganging up on me like this,” I said, relenting under their earnest insistence as I settled into a chair by the table, the hearty aroma dancing around the air around us.

Kian chuckled to what I said while Kira released a giggle, and in that moment, the weight of our earlier silence dissipated, revealing a warm camaraderie. Placing my hand lightly on a bowl of fragrant soup, I offered a sincere thank you for their invitation, grateful to share this meal.

As we dug into our food, the atmosphere thickened with stories and laughter. Kira recounted her adventures with her brother, embellishing every small detail with her animated gestures. Meanwhile, Kian listened patiently, his usual stoic facade softening into gentle affection as he chimed in to remind her of moments that were worth cherishing.

They were a delightful contrast to each other — the calm, protective brother balanced by the boundless energy of his spirited sister. I found solace in their dynamic, remembering the pain when the illness had stalked them like a shadow. The rich flavors of the meal mingled with hope; somewhat of a balm against lingering worries. I savored not just the flavors of the food, delicious and warm, but the precious moments shared among us.

“How is the food, Enaeya?” Kira asked me, pausing mid-bite, her bright eyes wide with curiosity.

“It’s wonderful,” I replied, taking a moment to savor the deliciousness that danced on my tongue. “But I must say, your laughter makes it taste all the better.”

It wasn’t long before our plates neared empty, each of us laughing and teasing amid bites of food, the earlier unease between me and Kian is dissolving like mist in the morning sun. Kira reached for the last piece of warm garlic bread, her little fingers dancing across the table with delight.

As we finished, Kian glanced at me, a soft gratitude evident in his gaze. “Thank you for taking care of us,” he said quietly, his voice steady and sincere. “You’ve been a great friend.”

I felt warmth spread through my chest, this quiet camaraderie blossoming even after what occurred earlier. “The joy is mine,” I replied, meeting his stoic glance with a smile of my own.

As the candlelight flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls, our conversations became more vibrant, the night comforting us in its embrace. Together, we forged memories that would linger like the scent of night flowers, and under the watchful gaze of the stars, we found a family bond in one another that would endure beyond the shadows of illness and uncertainty.