𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑷𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒖𝒍𝒍

                Chapter Seventeen  
Inara

By the time I pulled away from aang, the shadows in the forest had grown longer, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. The dampness of my tears had cooled against my cheeks, but the ache in my chest still lingered, sharp and unyielding. I had allowed myself to collapse in front of him, to break down in a way I hadn't permitted in years, and the vulnerability of it stung almost as much as the pain that had caused it.

I took a step back, rubbing at my eyes, trying to gather myself. Aang's hands hovered near me, hesitant, unsure if he should reach out again or give me space. I could see the concern etched into his features, his brows drawn together, his lips parted as if he wanted to speak but didn't quite know how.

I hated that he'd seen me like this, hated that I'd let him. But at the same time, there was a strange unfamiliar relief in knowing I didn't have to carry all of it alone, at least for a moment.

"So... what now?" Aang asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched between us. His voice was tentative, almost careful, like he was afraid that any sudden movement might send me running.

I swallowed, trying to find the strength to pull myself back together, to reclaim the pieces of my fractured composure. "We keep going," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "We find out who did this. And I make them answer for it."

Aang nodded, but I could tell he wasn't satisfied. There was still that look in his eyes, that need to understand, to make sense of what I had revealed to him. I could almost feel him searching for the right words, trying to figure out how to broach the subject again without pushing me too far.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked out at the trees, the shadows stretching across the ground like dark fingers. "You want to know why I care so much, don't you?" I said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my tone.

His silence was all the answer I needed.

The air between us felt thick, weighed down with everything we weren't saying, with every painful memory I was struggling to keep buried. I could feel the sharp edges of the forest around us—the cold bite of the wind on my skin, the crunch of dry leaves underfoot, the distant rustling of branches overhead. It felt like the woods were holding their breath, waiting for me to speak.

I took a shaky breath, my fingers curling into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "It's not just the letter," I started, the words barely more than a whisper. My throat felt tight, like I was forcing each syllable out against my will. "It's what it did to me. All my life, I've been trained like a soldier—to follow orders, to obey without question. I thought I was past all that... But when I read that letter? It felt like I'd been snapped back into place, like a puppet on strings I thought I'd cut a long time ago."

Aang's eyes stayed locked on mine, unwavering, intense. His face was drawn tight with worry, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line. "Inara, you're not a puppet anymore," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly, as if he was holding something back. "You don't have to do what they say they're gone."

I laughed, a short, bitter sound that scraped my throat. "You don't get it, Aang. It's not about whether I have to or not. It's about how it felt... like everything I thought I'd escaped came rushing back. That instinct to obey. That fear of what would happen if I didn't." My voice faltered, and I hated, despised how small I sounded.

Aang took a step closer, his brow furrowed, concern etched into every line of his face.

"What did they do to you if you didn't obey?" His question lingered in the air, and I felt it like a hook beneath my ribs, pulling, pulling.