She Was Just A Child (PART 2)

CHAPTER 30: FRACTURED BONDS

Dian's gaze flickered briefly to König's face before quickly returning to her food. She picked at the edges of her meal as if it were something foreign, something she no longer had the appetite to savor. The texture of the food felt meaningless—just another thing to pass the time, another distraction from the crushing silence inside her.

König's eyes, however, didn't leave her. His brow furrowed slightly, the familiar concern in his expression now tinged with something more—something deeper, like he could sense the distance between them was no longer just physical. The quiet tension between them was thick, almost suffocating, yet Dian remained utterly still as if bracing against the storm brewing inside her.

"I know something's wrong, Dian. You can't keep shutting everyone out like this," König said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. The usual forcefulness of his tone had softened, but his words still carried the weight of someone who'd been through hell and back trying to protect her.

Dian's jaw tightened. The urge to tell him—tell someone—was there, bubbling just beneath the surface, but she swallowed it down. The void inside her was vast, and she couldn't let it spill out. Not now. Not here. She'd learned long ago that to reveal too much would be to expose weakness—something she couldn't afford. Not in a world where survival meant controlling everything, especially the way she felt.

"I'm fine," she replied flatly, her eyes tracing the pattern on the edge of her tray. "I just need some time to think."

König studied her, his gaze sharpening. He didn't believe her. He never had. But he wasn't pushing, not yet. There was an understanding between them now, one forged through years of hardship and survival. Still, the unease in his eyes grew. She could feel it, like an invisible weight pressing down on her chest.

"Time?" His voice was low, but there was an edge to it now, a quiet frustration. "You've been 'thinking' for days now, Dian. You're pushing everyone away. You're pushing me away."

The words stung, more than she'd expected, and for a moment, her hand trembled, betraying the calm mask she'd tried to wear. The stillness inside her was fragile, and König's insistence threatened to break it. She clenched her fists beneath the table, willing herself not to react. She wouldn't give in to him. Not now.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding, and the coldness she'd cultivated over the past days felt like it might crack, splinter into pieces. She stared at her tray, her hands moving to push the food around aimlessly. Something was suffocating about this space, this life, this team that was supposed to feel like home. But all she could see now was the darkness, the void that stretched out endlessly before her.

König's gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw something else in his eyes. A flicker of hurt, of disappointment, but beneath that... something darker. Something more resigned. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his expression unreadable.

"You're right," he said, his voice quieter now, but with an intensity that made Dian look up. "I don't understand. But I've watched you. I've seen how you've changed since we—since I brought you back from the edge of that damn building. And I'm not going to watch you destroy yourself again."

His words hit her like a physical blow. She hadn't realized until now how much she had been avoiding the truth. The truth is that she wasn't the same person she was when Konig first found her. She had become something else. Someone else. But who? She didn't know. The sharpness of his words felt like a lifeline thrown into the swirling sea of her confusion, and yet, all she could do was flinch away from it.

Dian clenched her jaw, her fists tightening once again. She couldn't let him see it—couldn't let him see how much his concern was breaking her apart.

"Stop it," she whispered fiercely. "You don't get to do this. You can't fix me, Papa."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. Papa. It was a word that had once come so naturally to her, something she had said without thought when the bond between them had been strong. But now, it felt like a bitter reminder of what she could never fully embrace. The familial tie she had always longed for—yet always pushed away.

König's expression faltered for a second, the shift so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But Dian saw it. She always saw it. His eyes softened, and a sadness crept into them. There was no hiding it now. He cared. He cared in a way that went beyond duty or responsibility.

"You're right," he said quietly, almost too quietly, as if the words were harder to say than he'd imagined. "I'm not trying to fix you, Dian. I never have been. I'm just trying to help you. Help you see that you don't have to be alone in this."

Dian swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She wanted to shout at him. To tell him that he didn't understand, that he could never understand the void that lived inside her, that consuming emptiness that was always there, no matter what she tried to do. But the words caught in her throat.

She lowered her gaze once more, unwilling to meet his eyes, unwilling to let him see the cracks forming beneath the icy exterior she had worked so hard to build.

"I don't need help," she said, her voice a little more strained than she had intended. She could feel the walls she'd built around herself begin to tremble, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet.

König didn't respond immediately. Instead, he just sat there, watching her in silence, as if waiting for her to come to some kind of realization. But Dian wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to face the truth—wasn't ready to admit that the person who had once felt like her anchor was now the one who threatened to pull her into the storm.

"I need you to trust me, Dian," he said softly, his voice barely audible now. "But I can't help you if you won't let me."

The weight of his words settled over her like a shroud, and for a long, unbearable moment, there was only the sound of their breathing and the distant hum of the mess hall around them.

Dian sat in silence, lost in a storm of thoughts she didn't know how to navigate. The void inside her had grown. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like it might swallow her whole.

But as König's gaze held steady, she couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something worth fighting for. Even if she wasn't ready to admit it yet.