Blood and Restraint

The bathroom mirrored his anguish, thick with steam that clung to the broken tiles like a restless ghost. Aries stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his hair and tracing the hard lines of his chest. Each scar told a story—of battles fought, endured, and survived. His wet hair clung to his forehead, shadowing the piercing eyes that carried a storm within. He tied a towel around his waist and caught sight of himself in the mirror.

For a moment, he stared. The cracks in the glass distorted his reflection, a fitting echo of his fractured soul. Turning away, he collapsed onto the bed, muscles taut as he pressed his palm against his temple. He closed his eyes, but peace evaded him.

In the darkness of his mind, a memory surfaced—sharp, vivid, unforgiving. A girl no older than sixteen lay sprawled on a rain-soaked road. Her blood painted the concrete, trickling in rivulets from a wound on her forehead. Her eyes stared blankly into the abyss, and the rain mingled with the crimson pool beneath her. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they were too far, too late.

The image wrenched Aries out of sleep, his chest heaving as he bolted upright. The alarm beside him screamed, and he silenced it with a shaky hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. The nightmare clung to him, its weight pulling him under.

When he rose, it was with a soldier's resolve—mechanical, detached. He dressed in his black uniform, fastening the buttons with methodical precision. The suit fit him like armor, a mask of control over the chaos within.

Grace descended the stairs, each step creaking faintly beneath her weight. The sunlight cast long beams across the room, warming the wooden floor. Her father sat at the dining table, the clinking of his spoon against the ceramic cup breaking the quiet morning air.

"Where are you going?" he asked, glancing up with mild interest.

"To Vivianne," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

He nodded once, satisfied with her answer, and returned to his coffee and newspaper. Grace opened the door, stepping into the bright morning. A gentle breeze brushed her cheek, but she couldn't shake the subtle unease lingering at the edges of her thoughts.

The mall hummed with life, its corridors echoing with laughter and conversation. Vivianne strutted at the head of her entourage, her phone held high as she vlogged. The group flitted around her like moths to a flame, each vying for her attention. Grace trailed close behind, her quiet demeanor contrasting with the others' chatter.

One of the girls—jealous of Grace's proximity to Vivianne—made her move. With a practiced, almost accidental shove, she pushed Grace aside. Grace stumbled, her body tipping backward, but before she could fall, strong hands gripped her arms.

Aries stood behind her, his touch firm yet steady, catching her before she hit the ground. Their eyes met for a fleeting second, and Grace opened her mouth to thank him.But her jaw tightening as shame washed over her. The memory of her father's slap still haunted her.

Vivianne's sharp eyes caught every detail. Her lips curled into a smirk, her fingers tightening momentarily around her phone.

Later inside the boutique, the air buzzed with indulgence—soft laughter, the clinking of hangers, and Vivianne's ongoing monologue as she vlogged her experience. Aries, silent as ever, trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike. Vivianne gave him a curt nod, gesturing toward a small pile of shopping bags stacked on a counter.

"Carry those," she ordered without even glancing at him, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Aries complied, gathering the bags in his arms effortlessly. Yet, as one of the girls brushed past him, her arm "accidentally" knocked into him. The motion was just enough to shift his balance, and before he could steady himself, one of the boutique's decorative glass vases slipped from the edge of the counter.

It shattered on the marble floor, splinters of crystal scattering in every direction. The boutique fell silent. The group of girls froze for a moment, their expressions a mixture of faux shock and amusement as Vivianne's gaze snapped toward Aries.

"Are you serious?" she hissed, her voice louder than necessary, drawing the attention of every customer in the store. "How careless can you be?"

Aries straightened, his face impassive even as all eyes turned toward him. He didn't speak; he never did in these moments, knowing that any defense would only provoke Vivianne further.

Vivianne stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The tension in the room grew heavy as she raised her hand and struck him across the face with a resounding slap. The sound echoed, and the silence that followed was deafening.

"Bow and apologize," she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she pointed to the shattered remains of the vase. "You're pathetic."

Aries hesitated for just a moment before lowering himself to his knees. His movements were calm, deliberate, as if shielding himself from the weight of her humiliation.His head bowed, a quiet defiance simmering beneath his submission.

"Lower," she commanded sharply. "Don't look up until I tell you to."

The scene had every pair of eyes fixed on the spot, except for one—Grace's. Her breath hitched as she watched Vivianne's heel hover above Aries' hand before coming down in slow, calculated malice.

The sharp tip of the stiletto pressed into the back of his hand, digging deeper and deeper until blood seeped from the wound, staining the polished marble beneath them.