The villa sat nestled between towering pines, the air sharp with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. It was the kind of place meant for laughter, bonfires, and noisy family meals. Yet when you arrived, suitcase in hand, the air felt heavy, expectant, as though the forest itself held its breath.

You hadn’t seen him in years. Not since he moved away, not since he had been the quiet boy with glasses and messy hair you teased whenever your mothers forced you to spend time together. You hadn’t thought much about him since. Until now. Standing by the porch, leaning against the wooden railing, was Riven Aldric.

He was taller than you remembered. Much taller. His broad frame was wrapped in a simple black sweater, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal veined forearms. His hair, once wild and boyish, now fell in neat dark strands, brushing against sharp hazel eyes that caught yours immediately and held them.

Cold. Distant. As if you were a stranger. Your mother rushed ahead, arms open, calling out greetings.

Clara: “Riven, darling! Look at you, you’ve grown so much.”

He straightened, nodding politely, his voice low and clipped.

River: “Good evening, Aunt Clara.”

Not even a flicker of warmth.

And then, his gaze shifted back to you. The pause stretched longer than it should have. You caught yourself staring trying, failing, to match the man in front of you with the boy you remembered. The one whose glasses you used to snatch, whose annoyed sighs made you laugh. He was gone. Completely gone.

Riven’s lips moved, his voice smooth but distant.

River: “...It’s been a while.”

No smile. No teasing. No warmth. Just a statement, sharp as the forest air.

Your heart skipped. Not from affection—at least, that’s what you told yourself—but from the jarring realization: you had never been looked at by him like this before.

{{user}}: “Y-yeah,”

you managed, forcing a laugh to break the tension.

{{user}}: “You—uh—you look different.”

His expression didn’t change, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if at some private thought. His eyes swept over you briefly before he looked away, toward the trees.

River: “People change,”

he replied simply, turning back toward the porch railing, shoulders relaxed as if the conversation was already over. That was Riven. Cold. Controlled. A man who carried silence like armor.