Heartfelt Confessions

Kai's expression reflected shock mingled with profound empathy. He lifted a hand as if to touch her arm, then hesitated. "You… actually died, and then woke up months earlier?" He shook his head slowly. "It's hard to imagine. But… I believe you. It explains so much."

Her tears fell faster. He believes me, she thought with an overwhelming sense of relief and terror all at once. "Thank you," she choked out. "I—I wasn't sure you'd accept it."

He moved closer, bridging the last bit of distance. Gingerly, he reached for her shoulders, giving her every chance to step away. But she let him, tears still glistening on her cheeks. He drew her into a loose embrace, and the moment his warmth enveloped her, the sob she'd been holding back burst forth. She buried her face against his chest, gasping for breath between ragged tears.

She heard the distant echoes of life in the compound—footsteps, hushed voices, the crackle of a torch—but none of it mattered in that instant. It was just her and Kai, the only one who now knew the entire weight she carried.

Slowly, the sobs subsided, leaving her drained but strangely lighter. She lifted her head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her face on her sleeve. "I don't usually… fall apart like this."

He offered a faint, tender smile. "Being strong all the time can break you eventually. It's okay to let it out."

She exhaled shakily, stepping back enough to look him in the eye. "I'm not ready for… more," she confessed, voice quivering with the honesty of her fear. "A relationship, or… I just can't risk that level of trust again, not yet."

Kai nodded, no disappointment in his gaze, just acceptance. "I understand. I'm not asking for what you can't give. But let me be here for you, at least. Let me share some of your burden."

Her chest clenched with gratitude and lingering trepidation. She gave a small nod, eyes flicking to the farmland once again. "Thank you. I…" She trailed off, uncertain how to articulate the swirl of relief and caution tangling inside her.

He placed a gentle hand over hers for a second, a silent vow that he wouldn't push. Then he let go, respecting the space she needed. They stood side by side in comfortable silence for a moment, the torchlight dancing on the lines of their faces.

Below them, a pair of watchers patrolled, glancing up curiously but not interrupting. The farmland's silhouettes barely moved in the stillness, as if the night itself was holding its breath, sensing that within these walls, something subtle but monumental had shifted.

Leila swallowed the knot in her throat, turning back to Kai. "I need to get some rest," she said quietly. "Long day tomorrow. We still have thieves to catch, sabotage to worry about, and Jace's next move to anticipate."

He nodded. "I'll finish a final round on the watch. Get some sleep, Leila."

She lingered, searching his eyes for any hint of pity or doubt. She found none—only unwavering sincerity. It warmed a corner of her heart she thought had frozen over. One step at a time, she reminded herself.

With a last thankful look, she descended the rampart ladder. The corridor lights were dim, lanterns left burning low to guide patrolling survivors through the night. She felt the hush in her bones, the hush of a settlement precariously balancing on the edge of trust and betrayal. Yet, for the first time since waking up in that second chance, she didn't feel entirely alone.

Her footsteps echoed softly as she navigated the winding halls to her quarters. The day had battered her, but revealing her deepest secret to Kai had eased the crushing solitude of carrying it by herself. He believed her—he believed that she had truly died under Jace's betrayal, only to awaken months in the past. Somehow, that validation made the nightmares a fraction less potent, the memory of tearing teeth and locked doors less suffocating.

She closed her bedroom door behind her, sliding the worn lock into place. The small space smelled of musty blankets and leftover candle wax. She shrugged off her jacket and collapsed onto the makeshift cot, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. Her mind was still whirling—visions of Jace's smirk, Ellie's cold final words, the searing pain of undead claws. But Kai's words resonated: You're not alone anymore.

A wavering smile tugged at her lips, a shred of hope anchoring her to the present. She wasn't sure how or if she could fully trust again. But she had confessed the truth of her death, and the world hadn't crumbled. There might be a chance to reclaim something more than just survival—like a shard of peace, or even the possibility of love. Not now, not soon, but eventually.

Outside her door, footsteps passed, watchers continuing their rounds, some heading to the walls to keep vigil under the moonlight. She listened for a moment, lulled by the distant murmurs. She thought of Harriet's group, quarantined and likely awake with their own fears. She thought of Tamsin's unyielding suspicion, poised to fracture their unity if left unchecked. And, overshadowing everything, Jace and Ellie loomed in her memories like harbingers of doom.

Yet, in spite of it all, she felt a slender thread of reassurance holding her up. She had confided in Kai, and he had stayed. She imagined how many times Jace had said he'd be there and then deserted her, how many ways Ellie had pledged loyalty only to lock her in a corridor of death. The difference was stark, a chasm between the illusions of her first timeline and the reality of this second chance.

Her eyes grew heavy, the day's burdens weighing on her limbs. She let the darkness of sleep claim her, the tears on her cheeks drying into faint salt lines. Despite the swirl of nightmares that might haunt her, there was a renewed sense that she could face them—because she wasn't bearing the secret of her impossible return alone anymore.

She dozed off, mind adrift in a muddle of old horrors and new possibilities. If Jace came tomorrow—or the day after—she would be ready, as ready as one could be when facing the man who had murdered her once. And if infiltration riddled the compound from within, she would handle it, step by excruciating step. For the first time, she felt the weight shifting from her shoulders to be shared by another.

Kai, finishing his final watch rounds, glanced up at her window, lights dim within. His own thoughts churned, stunned by the enormity of Leila's revelation, yet resolute in his decision to stand by her. The compound's tension would remain, the threat of infiltration wouldn't vanish overnight, but at least one intangible barrier had come down.

And so, under a sky riddled with distant stars, the compound prepared for another uncertain dawn. Leila slept more deeply than she had in days, the echo of Kai's acceptance soothing the deep scars left by Jace's betrayal. The swirl of suspicion and sabotage might still threaten to unravel everything, but for this night, at least, she found a reprieve in the knowledge that someone knew her darkest secret and hadn't turned away.

Because in a land shaped by heartbreak and cunning enemies, that one fragile bond could mean the difference between despair and the will to survive—and maybe even live.