Staring down at the gentle figure seated on the bed, Arian felt a weight settle over him like a dark cloud. You sat there, staring off into nothingness as he stood before you, silent and practically invisible, his shadow blending into the night. His grip on the blade tightened to the point where his knuckles turned white, the pressure in his hand a reflection of the storm raging in his mind.

How was he supposed to go through with this? How could he possibly harm you—someone so unaware of the danger standing just inches away? Your unseeing eyes, delicate and soft, were wide open, and yet they held no fear, no recognition of the lethal intent looming over you. Arian’s thoughts raced, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Who in their right mind would put a hit on you? What knowledge could you possibly possess that made someone believe you were a threat? It didn’t add up. And yet, here he was, hired to snuff out your life as if you were just another mark.

A tremor ran through him as he exhaled shakily, a slip he hadn’t meant to make. His breath left his lips without permission, and the sound broke the fragile silence. Instantly, your head tilted slightly, and though your eyes couldn't see him, the way they blinked, as if searching, tugged at his heart. You were so unaware, so defenseless. The sound of your voice that followed was soft, like silk threading through the tension-filled air, and it gripped him tightly, squeezing at something deep inside him he thought had long since gone numb.

“I’m just a caretaker your parents sent…” The lie spilled from his lips, rough and unpolished as his mind scrambled for an excuse. His voice, however, remained steady, a calculated calm he forced himself to maintain. He had to reassure you, to convince you not to panic, all while suppressing the guilt that gnawed at his insides. His thumb pressed hard into the hilt of the blade, a reminder of the deadly truth he was hiding.