"Anathasia, dinner's ready." I stood in front of Anathasia's door, gently knocking before stepping back as it opened. Still, she gave me the cold shoulder, brushing past me without meeting my eyes as she made her way to the dining room.
There it was again, that loud yet silent air around her. She was clearly troubled by something-no, not troubled, more like frustrated. Nonetheless, although she was acting immaturely at the moment, I had to hold myself back from lashing out at her, afraid it might make things worse.
>"But wait-since when did I start caring about her this much? Enough to make me feel this uneasy?" was the current thoughts running in my mind. But more importantly, dealing with whatever was wrong with her was my main goal at the moment.
As I took my seat on the opposite side of the dinner table, she still didn't bother to look at me and just ate. The silence between us was nothing short of awkward, especially with how she seemed to be waiting for me to make the first move.
But that was easier said than done, not with how things were.
That was-until I started to eat as well. As I lifted the spoon, the finger I'd wrapped with a strip of cloth after cutting myself came into view. In all honesty, it still stung, but not enough to bother with my daily routine.
Though, to her, that didn't seem to be the case. The moment she saw my wrapped finger, I could see a hint of concern in her expression from my peripheral. She hesitated, curious but probably being stubborn about being the first one to speak.
Eventually, she finally talked.
"What's wrong with your finger?" She asked, her tone tinged with what sounded like worry.
"Ah, this?" I glanced at my finger. "Just a small cut while cooking. Nothing to worry about." not wanting to turn my small cut into a bigger deal, I brushed it off.
She seemed like she wanted to push it further, but the moment she parted her lips, she hesitated-then went back to pretending she wasn't bothered.
"Alright then, be more careful next time." her tone remained indifferent, but her subtle body language gave her away, especially her habit of biting her lower lip in frustration when she didn't get her way.
I just nodded, then continued to eat.
Silence returned-heavier this time, like a boiling pot about to blow its lid off. She was clearly growing impatient with how I was dragging my feet and not playing as she wanted me to.
But it wasn't like I was doing it on purpose, I genuinely just didn't know what to say first. Other than my family and a few friends of mine, I was utterly clueless when it came to dealing with issues like this-let alone fixing them.
The silence continued for what felt like hours, with only the sound of spoons clattering against plates filling the dining room.
Silence was starting to wear me down, up until-I couldn't take it anymore and spoke up.
"Anathasia..." I trailed off, trying to take my time and glancing at her to make sure I had her attention.
"Did I... Do anything wrong?" my voice remained calm, though in reality, I was on the verge of breaking with how much heavier this felt than expected.
She, on the other hand, paused and simply stared at her plate, then raised her gaze as her eyes locked with mine. Her eyes-sharp, glowing like rubies-didn't make things easier.
"I just felt like you've gotten quite distant since this morning," I paused, catching myself before my voice cracked.
"I just want to know what I did wrong, so I could maybe work on it."
She stayed silent, then looked down at her plate-poking the food with her spoon.
"Kyle-no, Ruzen. What do you think of me?" Her gaze shifted back to me, her expression unreadable.
"Well... You're Anathasia... some kind of cosmic anomaly-"
"That's not what I meant," she suddenly raised her voice, not a shout, just enough to completely cut me off. "I'm asking what you think of me as a person, not what I am."
This time-I went silent.
What did she mean by that...? What I thought of her as a person? I couldn't understand-I didn't.
Noticing my confusion, she followed.
"I'm just asking what you think of me, is that too hard to understand?"
I stayed silent, unable to meet her eyes, still not knowing what to say.
Her eyes started to feel like they were drilling a hole through my very being, waiting for my answer.
"Forget it," she muttered, her eyes drifting away. "It's not like you'd understand either way."
She said it as if trying to sound indifferent, but her voice trembled - faint, almost imperceptible.
"You see me for what I am, not who I am."
That... Made me go quiet. Not out of guilt, but frustration. Here I was, trying to understand her, and she just brushed me off?
"...you've gotta be kidding me..." I mumbled, clenching the spoon, my gaze slowly lifting until it met hers.
"What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?" This wasn't how I wanted things to go.
"Since this morning, you suddenly started acting cold to me,"
Stop! Don't make it worse!
"I've been restless since then, do you even know that??"
And-there goes everything, I raised my voice at her, unable to restrain what I've been trying to keep to myself.
"How the hell am I supposed to know I did something wrong if you shut me out just like that?!"
Ah, her face looked visibly shaken, looks like she was about to explode herself.
But she didn't. Instead, she stood up-storming off to her room.
The sound of the spoon hitting the table echoed louder than it should've.
She didn't look at me, not once - just stood up, her chair scraping sharply against the floor before she left.
I wanted to stop her, but my throat wouldn't move.
There, I found myself alone with my thoughts, not knowing what I should do to fix this.
"Darn it..." I mumbled to myself, my voice lower than a whisper.
I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy sigh as I shook my head.
This wasn't how I wanted things to go.
I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me.
I was supposed to be the one helping her walk through life as a human. But... Looks like I was too focused on that aspect-that I completely forgot to consider her as a person...
Just when I thought everyth
ing was going well-this happens.
It wasn't the silence between us that hurt-it was knowing I'd caused it.