The night had settled into silence.
Most of the camp was asleep, save for the occasional owl cry or crunch of leaves in the wind.
But Naya was still awake.
She sat on the floor beside her bunk, legs pulled tightly to her chest, hoodie wrapped around her like a second skin. The room was dim, only lit by the moonlight creeping through the curtains. Nora had fallen asleep hours ago, her soft breathing the only sign of peace in the room.
Naya stared at the same spot on the floor. Unblinking. Unmoving.
Her body ached. Bruises from the fall, the scratches on her legs—none of it compared to the weight in her chest.
He didn't push her away.
That single thought repeated like a curse. Like a wound that refused to close.
And the worst part? She wasn't even sure what hurt more—the kiss itself, or the fact that she had hoped for something else. That deep down, despite everything, she thought maybe Lucien saw her. Understood her. Chose her.
But maybe that was just another thing she'd been wrong about.
Her lips trembled as she pressed her face into her knees, the first sob breaking loose without permission.
Then another.
And another.
Tears soaked into her sleeves, silent but relentless, the kind of crying that made your lungs hurt. The kind that emptied you.
She bit down on her sleeve to stop the sound, not wanting to wake Nora, not wanting anyone to know she wasn't okay.
But in that quiet space, where the dark didn't judge, Naya allowed herself to unravel.
For just a little while.
And when she finally lay down, her pillow damp beneath her cheek, she didn't sleep.
She just closed her eyes and wished she felt nothing at all.