Chapter 6 Ink on the Wind

"Some words are written in silence. Others are carved in time. But the ones that last... are the ones never meant to be read by anyone else but you."

For the first time in weeks, Aria slept with her window open by choice.

No desk pushed in front of it. No locks. No fear.

Only moonlight on the floorboards and the scent of fresh ink lingering faintly in the air.

She had met the writer.

She had looked him in the eyes.

And still, her chest felt... confused.

Elian Thomley. The boy who left without goodbye. The boy who returned with letters instead of explanations. He had been kind, soft-spoken, apologetic. But the fire that used to flicker in her chest when she read the letters - it wasn't the same now that the mystery was gone.

Now, it felt like she was reading someone else's memories of her.

And yet - she wanted to believe it.

She wanted him to be the one.

The next morning, she found no letter.

Not on the sill. Not in her room.

Just a folded paper in the pocket of her coat - the one she hadn't worn in two days.

She pulled it out, fingers trembling.

It wasn't Elian's handwriting.

It was neater. Sharper. With darker ink.

She opened it quickly, pulse racing.

"He's trying. I see that. But you looked more alive when you didn't know his name."

"You used to read my words like they were yours. Now you're just looking for a match to a face."

"Don't forget the first letter, Aria. I know I didn't."

She sat down.

Hard.

What?

Elian had shown her all the letters.

Had copied them into a journal.

Had told her the truth.

Or... had he?

Was it possible - impossible - that Elian wasn't the only one writing?

Or worse... not the one writing at all?

She found Kai that afternoon in the old bakery, the one with cinnamon rolls as big as plates and window glass warped with age. He sat alone, hood up, scribbling into his notebook with the same intensity he always had when he was angry or hurt.

"You knew," Aria said, sitting across from him.

He looked up slowly. "About what?"

"The new letter. The one in my coat."

A flicker of something crossed his face. Not guilt. Not surprise.

Pain.

"I didn't leave it," he said.

"But you knew I'd find it."

He said nothing.

Aria leaned in. "Was it you all along, Kai?"

His jaw clenched. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He stared at her, eyes shadowed beneath the dim light.

"I only ever wrote one letter," he said. "The first one."

Her heart froze.

"You wrote the first?"

He nodded. "I never meant for it to become... everything. I left it because I thought I'd never have the courage to say those things out loud."

Aria blinked. "Then Elian found it."

Kai nodded again. "I think he saw it. Saw your reaction. And kept it going. I don't know why. Maybe he missed you. Maybe he just wanted to be the boy you thought you'd found."

Aria sat back.

The first letter. The most beautiful. The one that had changed everything.

It had come from Kai.

"I would've told you," he said softly, "but once he showed up, I thought... maybe he deserved a second chance."

"And you didn't?"

Kai smiled bitterly. "I'm not a poem, Aria. I'm just the boy who stayed behind."

That night, Aria sat at her desk and pulled out every letter.

She read them slowly, one by one.

Then she placed the first beside the last.

Same tone. Same rhythm.

Different hands.

She knew it now.

The boy who saw her - really saw her - wasn't the one who came back.

It was the one who never left.

And in her chest, something began to bloom. Soft, slow, steady.

Not a crush.

Not confusion.

But something stronger.

Something real.