Breathing the Same Air

Grace's car idled at the bus stop, its headlights casting long shadows against the sidewalk. Aries opened the door and stepped out with his usual composed demeanor, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

"I'll get off here," he said, his voice calm but distant as he gestured toward the narrow, dimly lit street ahead. "The road to my house is too tight for a car."

Grace frowned slightly, her curiosity piqued by his vague explanation, but she decided against probing further. "Alright then," she replied, her tone light as she managed a small smile. "Take care, Aries."

He nodded, returning a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You too."

She watched him adjust the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder and stride into the shadows. His tall figure blended seamlessly into the obscurity of the quiet street, the faint shuffle of his footsteps gradually fading. Shaking off her thoughts, Grace sighed and pulled the car into gear, her mind already preparing for what awaited her at home.

Meanwhile, Aries walked down the dark path with the quiet confidence of someone used to solitude. The trees lining the street cast long, skeletal shadows under the moonlight. He moved through them like a phantom, his expression unreadable. The stillness of the night seemed to wrap around him, a comforting contrast to the chaos within.

When he reached the sanctuary of his modest home, he paused momentarily at the front door. His gaze drifted toward the opposite side of the street, where a particular house rested in silent elegance. Without a sound, he ascended to his terrace, the cool night air brushing against his face. But his eyes never wavered from the windows of Grace's house, dimly illuminated under the moon's silver glow.

Grace pushed the door open to her home, greeted by the familiar, heavy air of the living room. The scent of polished wood and old leather drifted toward her as her eyes immediately landed on the figure seated in the dim glow of the television.

Robert, her father, sat unmoving, his presence looming even in his silence. His sharp profile was partially illuminated, the harsh lines of his face exaggerated by the flickering light. Grace's instinct told her to walk past quietly, to avoid stirring any tension. Her steps were soft, careful, but her father's gravelly voice pierced through the quiet like a knife.

"How was your day, Grace?" he asked, his tone steeped in authority rather than affection. He didn't turn to look at her, but the weight of his question froze her mid-step.

She exhaled softly and replied in a low voice, "Fine."

"And?" Robert pressed, his gaze now shifting toward her, though his body remained rigid. "Did you manage to get closer to Vivianne?"

Grace hesitated, her fingers curling tightly around her purse strap. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Robert leaned back into the chair, the leather creaking under him. His expression remained unreadable, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "Good," he said after a pause. "You must never forget what your job is… if you want to see your mother."

Her chest tightened as the familiar ache stirred deep within her. She wanted to respond, to fight back against the suffocating pressure of his words, but instead, she nodded faintly and turned toward the staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his expectations settling heavily on her shoulders. By the time she reached her room and closed the door, her hands were trembling. Leaning against the door, she allowed herself a single, shaky breath.

"How much longer?" she whispered to herself, her voice quivering in the darkness. "How much longer can I keep this up?God, please send someone to save me."

Across the street, Aries stood on his terrace, his gaze locked unwaveringly on Grace's house. Even in the shadows, her home was unmistakable to him. His fingers traced the edges of the ornamented box in his hands, its intricate carvings cool under his touch. Inside it lay the fragment of her dress—tattered but cherished—a piece of a moment he could never truly leave behind.

He brought the box closer to his chest, holding it as though it were a living thing. His lips parted as he whispered words the night alone could hear. "Well, I have to breathe the same air that you breathe to live. But I can't let you know that, can I? My Grace."

The moonlight cast a faint glow across his face, softening his otherwise guarded expression. For a moment, he allowed himself the fragile indulgence of looking toward her window, as though the act itself brought him closer to her. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned back indoors, retreating to the solitude of his world, leaving only the night as witness to his unspoken devotion.