“Who dared to do this to you?”
Sylvan’s voice was low.
Cold.
Rosylin stood beneath the old tree, her wrist still caught gently but firmly in his hand.
She lowered her eyes.
“It’s nothing.”
Sylvan’s gaze hardened.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Rosylin swallowed.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
His eyes moved over the scars visible beneath her sleeve.
“Those scars don’t look like they came from one accident.”
She remained silent.
“How long?”
Her fingers trembled.
“I’m used to it.”
For a moment, Sylvan said nothing.
Then his expression became colder.
“You’re used to being hurt?”
Rosylin didn’t answer.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“Please don’t ask.”
“Who?”
His voice remained calm, but there was something dangerous beneath it.
Rosylin looked away.
“There are…
people in this mansion who don’t like me.”
Sylvan’s eyes narrowed.
“People?”
She nodded.
“They have hurt you?”
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
That silence was enough.
Sylvan stared at her.
He had noticed the way she avoided the household.
The way she disappeared whenever people gathered.
The way she always seemed prepared to run.
Now he understood that there was a reason.
“How many times?”
Rosylin’s eyes became wet.
She blinked quickly.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know?”
“I stopped counting.”
Sylvan’s expression didn’t change.
But his eyes did.
A quiet anger settled there.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Rosylin gave a small, bitter smile.
“Who would I tell?”
Sylvan said nothing.
She looked down at her wrist.
“If I speak, things become worse.”
“Worse for you?”
She nodded.
Her voice became quieter.
“I learned a long time ago that staying silent is easier.”
Sylvan looked at her for several seconds.
“No,” he said.
Rosylin looked up.
His voice was still cold.
“Staying silent is easier for the people hurting you.”
Her eyes immediately filled with tears.
She turned her face away.
She refused to cry.
Not in front of him.
She blinked again and again, trying to force the tears back.
One tear escaped.
She quickly wiped it away.
Sylvan saw it.
Another followed.
She wiped that one away too.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Don’t ask anymore.”
Sylvan’s fingers slowly loosened around her wrist.
But he didn’t let her go.
His eyes remained on her face.
“Does it hurt?”
Rosylin shook her head.
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Something in the way she said it made his jaw tighten.
She wasn’t saying she was fine.
She was saying she had learned to live with pain.
Rosylin tried to pull away.
“Please let me go.”
Sylvan didn’t.
She looked at him through wet eyes.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
He only knew that he couldn’t watch her walk away while she was trying so hard not to cry.
Then, before he could think about what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms.
Rosylin froze.
Sylvan froze too.
He hadn’t planned it.
He didn’t even understand why he had done it.
He only knew that he wanted her to stop crying.
His arms remained around her.
For a moment, Rosylin didn’t move.
Then Sylvan slowly lifted one hand and began patting her back.
Once.
Then again.
Quietly.
Steadily.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t know what to say.
And perhaps words were unnecessary.
Rosylin’s lips trembled.
She tried one last time to hold herself together.
But she couldn’t.
A sob escaped her.
Then another.
Her hands slowly gripped the back of his coat.
And suddenly, all the tears she had refused to shed in front of anyone came pouring out.
She cried against him.
Hard.
Uncontrollably.
Years of loneliness seemed to break apart inside her all at once.
Sylvan remained still.
He didn’t push her away.
He didn’t tell her to stop.
He simply continued patting her back.
Slowly.
Gently.
His expression remained cold, but his eyes held something different.
Concern.
He didn’t understand why her tears affected him.
He didn’t understand why his arms refused to release her.
He didn’t understand why, after spending years keeping everyone at a distance, he suddenly couldn’t stand watching one particular person suffer.
He only knew that he wanted her to feel safe enough to breathe.
So he stayed.
Rosylin continued crying.
Her face remained hidden against him.
And Sylvan said nothing.
For once, he didn’t demand answers.
He didn’t question her.
He didn’t ask her to explain the past.
He simply held her beneath the old tree while the mansion remained far behind them.
After a long silence, his hand moved once more over her back.
“Cry,” he murmured quietly.
His voice was still deep and controlled.
“But don’t hide it from me.”
Rosylin cried harder.
And Sylvan remained there.
Not knowing why he had pulled her into his arms.
Not knowing why he couldn’t let her go.
Only knowing that, for the first time, he wanted her pain to become a little lighter.
And he didn’t need an explanation for that.