The Princess and The Criminal [ CAITVI ]

10 | Unspoken

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Caitlyn's POV
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"Powder!" she called out, her voice echoing off the walls. "Vander?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Vi's shoulders stiffened, and she called out again, louder this time, but the only response was the creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her boots.

Five years. She had to know they wouldn't still be here. But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

Vi's jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. For a second, I thought she might punch something. But instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose and turned on her heel, heading straight for the kitchen.

The cupboards groaned as she pulled one open, rummaging through its contents until she found what she was looking for: a bottle. Vi didn't bother with a glass. With a sharp twist, she uncorked it and took a long, steady gulp.

I hovered by the door, standing there, awkward, unsure of what to do. Words felt pointless, too small to bridge the distance. But what struck me most was how different she seemed. For once, she wasn't posturing or smirking or throwing some snarky comment my way. She was just... standing there, raw and exposed.

"I'm... sorry," I said, and immediately hated how small my voice sounded.

Vi didn't meet my eyes. She took another swig from the bottle before gruffly replying, "Yeah, well. Not your fault."

There was an edge to her voice, but it was dull. Worn out. I watched as she leaned against the counter, staring at nothing in particular. She looked tired. Not the kind that came from running all day—but the kind that settled deep in your bones and never really left.

I wanted to say something else, to reach for some comfort. Something that wouldn't come off as pity, but the words felt stuck. Vi didn't strike me as the type to want comfort—at least not the kind I could offer. So, I kept quiet, letting it go.

Instead, I tugged my coat tighter around my shoulders, shivering as the cold bit at my skin. My breath came out in little white puffs, swirling in the still air.

Vi noticed. "Heat's out," she muttered, pushing off the counter. "Figures."

She moved to the fireplace, crouching down to search for wood. It didn't take her long to get a fire going, the flames flickering to life and casting a soft, orange glow across the room. She settled on the floor, cross-legged, the bottle now dangling loosely from her hand as she stared into the fire.

For a moment, she seemed lost in it—maybe in the heat, or maybe in her own thoughts.

I sank onto the couch, pulling a quilt over my lap. It smelled faintly of smoke and something herbal. The warmth from the fire was a slow, creeping thing, but it helped.

"You could sit here," I offered, not really expecting her to take me up on it.

Vi glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched in that usual skeptical way. "What, so you can complain about how much space I take up?"

I rolled my eyes. "Forget it."

Of course. Even now, she couldn't help but throw in a sarcastic comment. But it was different this time. There was no playful smirk, no bite to her tone. Her voice was dry, flat—her face unreadable. It was like she was just going through the motions, the usual deflection stripped away.

I watched her for a moment, the way the firelight softened her features. It was strange, seeing her like this. Quiet. Vulnerable. The Vi I knew was all bravado and sharp edges, but right now... she just looked—