Fractured Distance

The morning light crept through the heavy velvet curtains of Thornhaven Manor, casting a muted glow across the grand halls. Ivy sat at the small writing desk in her room, absently brushing her fingers across the rough surface of the ancient journal Gabriel had given her. Its leather binding smelled of age, its pages filled with his family's history and cryptic notes about the Veilglass. But Ivy wasn't reading. Her thoughts were consumed by Gabriel and the strange shift in his demeanor since the shadows had appeared.

He'd barely spoken to her since the night before. He'd guided her back to her room with curt instructions to stay put and had vanished into the manor's labyrinth of corridors. This morning, when she'd seen him briefly in the dining hall, he'd been distant—cold, even. His golden eyes, usually so intense and expressive, avoided hers, and his replies were clipped, as though he were trying to build an invisible wall between them.

The memory of his kiss burned in her mind. The way he'd held her, as though she were the only thing anchoring him to the world, had felt undeniable. But now it was as if he regretted every second of it.

Frustration bubbled inside her as she stood and paced the room. Gabriel's behavior was infuriating, but it also left her feeling strangely hollow, like she'd been handed something precious only to have it snatched away before she could fully grasp it.

A knock at her door startled her. She opened it to find Gabriel standing there, his tall frame filling the doorway. He looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but his posture was as composed as ever.

"I wanted to check on you," he said, his voice low and unreadable.

"I'm fine," Ivy replied, her tone sharper than she intended. "Though I can't say the same for you. What's going on, Gabriel? Why are you shutting me out?"

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might actually answer. But then he shook his head, stepping back as if to create more space between them. "It's for the best, Ivy. You don't belong in this mess. You never should've been brought here."

Her chest tightened, anger flaring alongside the hurt. "You're the one who kissed me, Gabriel. Or have you forgotten already?"

His eyes flashed with something—guilt, desire, frustration—but he quickly masked it. "That was a mistake," he said, his tone clipped. "I let my guard down, and it won't happen again."

Ivy felt as though he'd struck her. "A mistake? Is that all I am to you?"

"You're more than that," he said, his voice cracking slightly before he caught himself. "That's the problem. The more you mean to me, the more danger you're in."

She stepped closer to him, her pulse racing. "Stop deciding what's best for me. I'm not some fragile thing you have to protect, Gabriel. I'm here because I want to be, and I'm not leaving."

For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Gabriel's gaze dropped to her lips before darting away, his body rigid. "You don't understand what you're saying," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then explain it to me," Ivy said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Help me understand."

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and she saw the battle raging within him. His fists clenched at his sides as though he were physically holding himself back. The space between them seemed charged, every breath they took magnified in the silence.

"I can't," he said finally, stepping away from her. "You deserve a life free of this curse, Ivy. Free of me."

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing down the corridor before she could respond.

The rest of the day dragged on in excruciating silence. Ivy wandered the manor aimlessly, the emptiness of the halls mirroring the ache in her chest. Every room seemed to carry the weight of Gabriel's absence, his presence lingering in the air like a shadow.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the manor was bathed in twilight, Ivy found herself in the garden. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain. She walked among the overgrown paths, her fingers brushing against the ivy and wild roses that clung to the stone walls.

She didn't hear Gabriel approach until he spoke. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

His voice was soft but firm, and Ivy turned to see him standing at the edge of the garden, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the fading light.

"I needed some air," she said, folding her arms. "Not that it's any of your concern."

He winced at her tone but didn't respond. Instead, he moved closer, his gaze scanning the shadows that stretched across the garden.

"Are you going to keep avoiding me forever?" Ivy asked, her frustration boiling over.

Gabriel stopped a few feet away, his expression unreadable. "I'm not avoiding you."

"Could've fooled me," she said bitterly.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I'm trying to protect you, Ivy. From this place, from me…from everything."

"I don't want your protection, Gabriel," she said, stepping closer. "I want the truth. And I want you."

The last word hung between them like a challenge. Gabriel's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Ivy thought he might close the distance between them, might finally give in to whatever it was they shared. But instead, he turned away, his hands curling into fists.

"I can't," he said, his voice strained. "If I let myself… If I lose control… I don't know if I'd ever be able to stop."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop," Ivy whispered, her voice trembling.

Gabriel's breath hitched, and he looked at her over his shoulder, his expression a mix of longing and torment. "You don't know what you're asking," he said.

"Then show me," she said, her heart pounding.

For a moment, she thought he might. The tension between them was almost unbearable, every inch of space charged with unspoken desire. But then Gabriel shook his head, stepping back into the shadows.

"I can't," he said again, his voice heavy with regret.

And then he was gone, leaving Ivy alone in the garden, her chest tight with frustration and a longing she couldn't ignore.