The Way He Stays...

The room didn’t smell as strong anymore.

Or maybe I just got used to it.

The roses were still everywhere—unchanged, unmoved, like time didn’t dare touch them. But something felt… different.

Quieter.

Not empty.

Just… still.

I woke up to the sound of rain.

Soft. Steady.

For a moment, I forgot where I was.

Then the anklet shifted slightly when I moved.

Right.

Here.

Always here.

“…annoying,” I muttered, sitting up.

A tray sat on the table.

Warm food.

Steam still rising.

I frowned.

The maid usually came after I woke up.

Not before.

Suspicious.

Very.

I walked over slowly, eyes scanning the room like something would jump out.

Nothing.

Of course.

Still…

I touched the cup.

Warm.

Fresh.

“…he was here.”

The realization came quietly.

Not dramatic.

Not shocking.

Just… certain.

“You didn’t eat yesterday.”

I froze.

There he is. Speak of the devil.

I turned.

He was standing near the window, like he had always been there, watching the rain fall.

“You’re getting predictable,” I said flatly.

“You didn’t answer.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

A lie.

A weak one.

He turned slightly, just enough for me to see his expression.

Calm.

But his eyes lingered on the untouched tray.

“…eat,” he said.

“Or what?” I challenged.

A pause.

Then—

“…or you’ll feel worse later.”

…

That’s it??

No threat? No control line??

I stared at him.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

I sat down anyway.

Not because he told me to.

Obviously.

Don’t assume things.

I picked up the spoon, taking a small bite.

It tasted…

Good.

Warm.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

I frowned.

“…this is the same thing I asked for last week.”

Silence.

Then—

“I remember.”

My hand paused mid-air.

…

That was… unnecessary information.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” I said, quieter now.

“I’m not acting.”

Simple.

Direct.

And somehow… that made it worse.

The rain got heavier.

The sound filled the room, soft but constant.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

It wasn’t tense.

Not like before.

Just… quiet.

“You hate the roses.”

I blinked.

“…what?”

He stepped closer, gaze moving over the room briefly before settling back on me.

“You don’t look at them anymore.”

…

Why does he notice stupid things like that??

“I never liked them,” I muttered.

“Lie.”

I looked up. “Excuse me?”

“You did,” he said calmly. “The first day.”

My chest tightened.

“…that was before I knew what they meant.”

A pause.

Something shifted in his eyes again.

Subtle.

Almost… regret?

Nah. Impossible.

Without a word, he walked toward the table beside the wall.

Picked up a single rose.

And pulled it out.

Petals fell softly to the floor.

I watched, confused.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer.

Just set the broken stem aside.

Then another.

And another.

One by one…

He started removing them.

“…stop.”

The word came out before I could think.

He paused.

“…why?”

I hesitated.

Why did I say that?

I don’t even like them.

“They’re fine,” I said quickly.

A weak excuse.

Even I knew it.

He looked at me for a moment.

Long enough to make my chest feel tight again.

Then—

“…you said you hated them.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll remove them.”

Simple.

Like it was obvious.

Like it mattered.

I didn’t know what to say.

So I stayed quiet.

Watching him.

He didn’t rush.

Didn’t make it dramatic.

Just… quietly cleared the roses from the side of the room.

Petals falling.

Color fading.

The air felt lighter.

Less suffocating.

“…you don’t have to do that,” I said after a while.

“I know.”

…

“Then why are you?”

He didn’t look at me this time.

“…because you don’t like them.”

My grip tightened slightly around the spoon.

That’s it??

No deeper meaning? No manipulation??

Just… that?

The rain softened again.

The room felt different now.

Still the same walls.

Same space.

But… less heavy.

When he finished, he stepped back slightly.

Not close.

Not far.

Just enough distance.

“Eat,” he said again.

But this time…

It didn’t sound like an order.

I took another bite.

Slower this time.

“…you’re weird,” I muttered.

A faint pause.

Then—

“…I’ve been told that.”

Was that… humor??

Barely. But still.

For the first time since I got here…

The silence didn’t feel like a cage.

It felt like something else.

Something unfamiliar.

Something… dangerous in a different way.

Because if he stayed like this…

Quiet.

Careful.

Almost gentle.

Then hating him…

Would get a lot harder.

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