One week after moving in.
Alice woke up in her new room and, for a moment, forgot where she was.
No shouting, no bottles clinking, no fear of what could happen if she were to leave her room…
Just serenity.
She sat up slowly, taking in the clean walls, the organized desk, the window that let in actual sunlight.
'This is real,' she reminded herself. 'This is my life now.'
A knock at the door.
"Alice? You awake?" Ashen's casual voice reached through the doorway.
"Yes."
He opened the door, already dressed for the day. "Mom made breakfast. Come on."
Alice followed him downstairs, and for the first time in her life, she sat at a table where no one was angry.
Akidia smiled at her. Hans asked about her sleep. Ashen sat beside her, casually brushing his shoulder against hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was overwhelming.
It was… wonderful.
And Alice realized, with startling clarity, that she didn't know how to be in this kind of environment.
She'd spent so long in survival mode that normal life felt foreign.
⛧
Two weeks later.
Ashen had been observing Alice since she moved in.
Not in the creepy way, mind you, but in the concerned way.
She was safe now. Fed, clothed, protected. No more fear, and, of course, no more violence.
But he could see that she was still broken in ways that safety alone couldn't fix.
She barely spoke unless directly addressed. She apologized for everything: taking up space, asking questions, existing. She moved through the house like a ghost, trying to be invisible.
And at school, she was even worse. She sat alone. Ate alone. Walked alone… Sometimes she even talked alone.
When other students tried to talk to her, she'd freeze up, give one-word answers, and retreat.
Ashen understood why. Social skills weren't something she'd ever had the chance to develop. Her natural introversion had isolated her, and her father had done the rest.
But he also knew that if she stayed like this, she'd never truly be free.
She'd just trade one prison for another. This time, one made of fear and silence.
He couldn't let that happen.
⛧
One month after moving in.
"Again," Ashen said, standing beside her in front of the full-length mirror in his room.
Alice stared at her reflection, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
"Hello," she said quietly. "My name is Alice. Nice to meet you."
"Louder."
She tried again. "Hello. My name is Alice. Nice to meet you."
"Better. Now look at yourself when you say it. Not at the floor."
Alice lifted her gaze, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. "Hello. My name is Alice. Nice to meet you."
"Good. Now smile."
"…Smile?"
"People like it when you smile. It makes them feel comfortable." Ashen demonstrated, his expression shifting into something warm and approachable. "Like this."
Alice tried, but it felt unnatural.
"Not like that," Ashen said gently. "You look like you're in pain. Try thinking of something that makes you happy."
'Something that makes me happy…'
Her eyes drifted to Ashen beside her.
The smile that came next was more genuine.
"There we go." Ashen grinned. "See? You're already better at this than you think."
⛧
Days later.
They practiced every evening.
How to make small talk. How to maintain eye contact without staring. How to read body language, how to deflect unwanted conversations, how to project confidence even when she didn't feel it.
Ashen taught her everything he knew… all the little tricks he'd learned from navigating social situations he didn't care about.
And Alice absorbed it all like data, cataloging every gesture, every tone shift, and every subtle cue.
"Social interaction is just another system," she said one evening, sitting cross-legged on his bed while he sprawled beside her. "Like coding. There are patterns, rules, and if-then statements."
"Exactly." Ashen turned his head toward her. "You're already good at systems. This is another one… just one that happens to talk back."
"...But what if I mess up?"
"Then you recover—or debug. People crash conversations all the time. It's normal."
"You don't."
"I do. I just don't care when I do." He smirked. "You'll get there."
Alice wasn't sure she believed him. But she wanted to. And that was enough to keep trying.
⛧
Three months after moving in.
Ashen didn't stop at mirror practice.
He took her everywhere.
Parks, malls, museums, cafes… places where people gathered, where Alice would have to interact, where she could practice being normal.
At first, she hated it. Every outing was exhausting, every interaction draining.
But Ashen was always there beside her, guiding her through conversations, stepping in when she froze, giving her quiet reassurances when her anxiety spiked.
And slowly—painfully slowly—it started to work.
She learned how to order coffee without stumbling over her words.
She learned how to make small talk with cashiers.
She learned how to navigate group conversations, when to speak, when to listen, and when to gracefully exit.
And somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.
She started to enjoy it.
⛧⛧⛧
Six months later.
Alice stood in front of her school locker, organizing her books, when a classmate approached.
"Hey, Alice! A few of us are going to study at the library after school. Want to come?"
A year ago, Alice would have frozen. Stammered. Made an excuse and fled.
Now…
She turned and smiled, genuinely, "Sure. What time?"
The girl blinked, surprised, then grinned. "Four o'clock. See you there!"
As the girl walked away, Alice felt a gentle flutter stir inside her.
I did it.
No panic… Not even a script running in her head. Just… conversation.
She glanced across the hallway and caught Ashen's eye. He'd been watching from his own locker, and now he gave her a subtle thumbs-up.
Alice felt her smile widen.
'Thank you,' she thought. '...For all of this.'
⛧
Later that evening
Ashen sat at his desk, staring at his homework without really seeing it.
Alice was in her room, probably doing the same thing… except she'd actually finish hers because she always did.
He should've been relieved. The project of helping Alice adjust was working. She was thriving now—making friends, speaking confidently, navigating the world without fear.
So why did he feel… off?
He thought back over the past six months.
Every evening spent practicing conversations. Every weekend spent taking her to new places. Every moment spent watching her transform from a scared, silent girl into someone elegant and self-assured.
And he realized something.
For the first time in years, he'd felt needed.
Not admired for being good at things. Not praised for winning competitions… Just being there for someone who truly needed him.
Alice had depended on him, and that dependence had given him something he'd been missing without even knowing it.
Purpose.
When she looked at him with those grateful, adoring eyes, when she said "thank you" like he'd hung the moon, when she smiled because of something he'd done—
It mattered.
Unlike all the hollow praise that he was tired of hearing… Hers somehow mattered.
Maybe because she mattered.
And now, as she grew more independent, more confident, more capable of standing on her own…
He felt something uncomfortably close to panic.
'What if she doesn't need me anymore?'
The thought was irrational. Selfish. Wrong.
…But it was there.
⛧
Late that night.
Alice was still awake when she heard the soft knock.
"Come in."
Ashen stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He looked… uncertain. Vulnerable in a way she rarely saw.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"Something like that." He sat on the edge of her bed. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you…" He hesitated, which was unlike him. "Do you still need me?"
Alice blinked. "What?"
"You're doing so well now. You have friends. You're confident. You don't freeze up anymore. You're… wonderful." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just—I guess I'm wondering if you still need me around. Or if I've done my job and now I'm just… in the way."
For a moment, Alice just stared at him.
Then she laughed softly and… disbelievingly.
"Ashen." She reached out and took his hand. "I will always need you."
"But—"
"Not because I can't function without you." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Because I don't want to. You're not a crutch I'll outgrow. You're… you're mine. The same way I'm yours. That doesn't change just because I've learned how to smile at strangers."
Ashen stared at her.
"You really mean that?"
"I've never meant anything more." Alice's voice was certain. "You saved me. You made me up. And now I'm strong enough to stand beside you instead of behind you. But I'm not going anywhere. Ever."
The relief that washed over Ashen's face was almost painful to watch.
"Good," he said quietly. "Because I don't think I could let you go, even if you wanted me to."
Alice smiled. "Then hold on to me… just as tightly as I'll hold on to you."
⛧
The following weeks.
After that night, something changed between them.
Before, their relationship had been protector and protected. Teacher and student. Savior and saved.
Now, it was something else.
Codependent, maybe. Unhealthy by normal standards, likely.
But it was theirs. And it worked for them, somehow.
Ashen found meaning in caring for Alice; in being the person she turned to, relied on, and trusted above all others.
And Alice found security in being needed by Ashen; in knowing that she wasn't just allowed to love him, but that he needed her love.
They became each other's anchor, each other's constant… each other's everything.
And while the world might have called it obsessive, unhealthy, or codependent—
To them, it was simply love.
The kind that said: You're mine, and I'm yours, and nothing will ever change that.