SECRETS AMONGST THE ROSES

The air was cool and still, filled with the scent of damp earth and the distant rustle of evergreens. Soft yellow lights flickered along the paved path, casting a golden glow over the trimmed hedges and flowerbeds that bloomed even in the shadow of the coming night.

Aiden walked beside Rosalie in silence, hands in his jacket pockets, head tilted slightly toward her. She, on the other hand, walked like a memory—graceful, composed, as if each step was guided by an old rhythm the world had forgotten. Her blouse was buttoned high, her coat cinched at the waist, a silhouette out of time.

"You're quiet," she said, her voice barely above the breeze.

He glanced at her. "You brought me here to talk, right?"

"I brought you here because I wanted to see how you'd carry yourself… when it was just us," she said, pausing near a bench draped in ivy. She touched the back of it gently, fingers running over the cool metal. "You saw what Edward did. The van."

Aiden didn't sit. He stood in front of her, expression unreadable. "I did."

"And yet you've said nothing."

"To whom?" he asked. "The school? Steve? Bella? You?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "To anyone."

His jaw flexed. "I don't see the point in calling out things people wouldn't believe. What happened… happened. I'm not here to stir trouble. I've had enough of that in my life."

That answer gave her pause. She searched his face like she was trying to see through it, past the layers he wore so well. "So, you protect him? Or you just don't care?"

"I care," he said. "But I don't chase things that don't want to be seen. Edward's fast. Strong. Not normal. But he saved her. End of story."

Rosalie's golden eyes flicked to his, something unreadable stirring beneath their perfect stillness. "You're not afraid."

"I've seen worse than someone catching a van."

She took a slow step toward him. "Most people would be frightened. Or curious."

"I'm both," he admitted, voice low. "But I'm also tired."

That caught her off guard. The way he said it. Not bored, tired—but soul tired. Like something inside him had burned too long, too hot.

A brief silence fell between them. The kind that feels like a held breath.

She moved to sit on the bench, crossing one leg over the other, chin lifted just slightly. Regal. Effortless.

"You don't ask questions, but you notice everything," she said. "That's dangerous."

Aiden finally sat beside her, not too close—but not far, either. "So's silence. I've learned that."

The way she looked at him now wasn't like before—less probing, more curious. "You're not like the others."

"No," he said simply.

"I like that."

There it was—that brush of vulnerability. That flicker behind her eyes told him she wasn't just fishing for information. She was… drawn. Maybe even unsure why.

He looked at her then, not just at her beauty, which was obvious, but at the way she held herself together like glass under pressure.

"I think you want someone to see past the way you shine," he said. "To see the storm behind it."

Rosalie's breath caught. For a moment, the facade cracked—just a hairline fracture.

"Maybe I do," she said softly. "But it has to be someone who doesn't run."

"I don't run," Aiden replied.

And there, under the dark canopy of trees and the hush of evening, something settled between them. Not a confession. Not a promise. Just… possibility.