Fragments of Aria's Life

As Siya lay back on the bed that night, the fire in the stove dimming, she closed her eyes and let herself drift into the depths of her mind, searching for the elusive memories of Aria’s life. It was a strange sensation—digging through thoughts that didn’t belong to her, emotions she didn’t truly feel. But they were there, lingering just below the surface, waiting to be discovered.

Aria's memories were scattered, like puzzle pieces, each one offering glimpses into her life. The deeper Siya delved, the more vivid they became, slowly forming a clearer picture.

---

Three months earlier…

Aria stood at the edge of a large, bustling city street. She was dressed in a stylish outfit, her face set in an expression of frustration as she spoke harshly into the phone.

"I’m not moving there, Papa," Aria snapped, her voice rising in anger. "I don’t care what you or anyone says! I’m not going to live in some remote wilderness, miles away from civilization. This isn’t the life I wanted!"

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Aria’s face flushed with frustration. After a few moments, her father’s stern voice crackled through the speaker, calm yet unyielding.

"This marriage is not about what you want, Aria. It’s about our family’s reputation, about what’s best for you. Ayan is a good man, and his position as head of security is one of honor. He will provide for you, protect you. You should be grateful."

Aria’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw tightening. She hated being told what to do, especially by her father. This wasn’t the life she had envisioned for herself—a life of luxury, freedom, and choices. But now, her family had made the decision for her, tying her to a man she barely knew.

---

The wedding day…

Ayan stood beside her, dressed in a formal military uniform, his posture rigid, face composed. His eyes had briefly met hers when the ceremony began, but there was no warmth there. Just duty.

Aria’s heart had been heavy with resentment that day. As the vows were spoken and the rituals completed, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of being trapped. A gilded cage, she thought bitterly, casting a sideways glance at her new husband.

Ayan had remained distant throughout, polite but detached, his focus on the formality of the day rather than on her. He didn’t try to connect with her, didn’t offer any attempt at comfort. Perhaps, she thought, he felt just as trapped as she did.

---

The first month of marriage…

Life in the remote, mountainous region was even worse than Aria had imagined. The air was cold and biting, the house simple and isolated. There were no city lights, no lively streets, no sounds of life buzzing around her. Instead, there was only silence and the quiet hum of nature outside.

Ayan spent most of his time away from home, busy with his duties as head of security. He rarely spoke to Aria, and when he did, their conversations were brief, stilted, and full of tension. They didn’t sleep in the same room. In fact, they barely saw each other.

The few times they did interact, the arguments quickly followed. Aria’s frustration would boil over, and she’d lash out at him, accusing him of dragging her into this miserable existence. Ayan would remain calm, never raising his voice, but his silence only made her angrier.

"I didn’t ask for this life!" Aria had yelled one night, her voice trembling with rage. "I didn’t want to be stuck here with you, in this place!"

Ayan had stood in the doorway of his room, his eyes cold, his voice measured. "You think I wanted this either?"

Those words had stung Aria more than she cared to admit. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She had always assumed that he was perfectly content with their arrangement, that his sense of duty overpowered any personal feelings. But that brief glimpse of vulnerability in his words—however small—unsettled her.

---

Returning to the present…

Siya’s eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. The memories felt so real, as if she had been living through them herself. Aria had been trapped, her bitterness growing with each passing day, and it had poisoned everything—her relationship with Ayan, her view of her life, and even her connection with the people around her.

Siya could understand, to some extent, why Aria had felt the way she did. She had been forced into a life she didn’t want, with a man she didn’t love. But there was something more to Ayan’s quiet, distant demeanor. Aria had never taken the time to truly understand him, to see beyond his stoic exterior. Maybe there was more to his silence than she had realized.

But now, that was Siya’s problem to deal with. Aria was gone, and Siya was left to navigate the remnants of a broken marriage.

---

Confronting the Past

The next morning, Siya woke with a renewed sense of determination. She wasn’t Aria, and she wouldn’t allow herself to fall into the same trap of anger and resentment. If she was going to survive here, she had to do things differently.

Her first step was to try and connect with Ayan—not as Aria, but as herself. She needed to understand him, to find out if there was still a way to repair the damage Aria had done. If she was going to be stuck in this life, she at least wanted to make it bearable. And if Ayan truly didn’t want this marriage either, then perhaps there was still hope for them to find a way forward.

But there was one thing Siya knew for certain: she couldn’t continue living in the shadow of Aria’s past. If she was going to build a new life here, she needed to forge her own path, with her own choices.

And that meant starting with Ayan.

Let’s explore Siya’s growing attempts to understand Ayan, and how her perceptions of him shift as she observes his actions and tries to break through the emotional barriers between them. This will mark the beginning of a more complex dynamic between them, as Siya starts to unravel the layers of Ayan’s character that Aria had never noticed.

---

Bridging the Distance

Siya spent the next few days cautiously navigating her new life, trying to find some sense of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of unfamiliar memories and emotions. But one thing was clear—Ayan was a mystery to her. His silence, his calm demeanor, the way he never raised his voice or lost control during their brief interactions—it all intrigued her in ways she hadn’t expected.

Aria had seen Ayan as cold, distant, and uninterested, but Siya wasn’t so sure. There was something in his eyes, something hidden behind the rigid facade he maintained. Was it possible that Aria had never truly tried to understand him? Maybe Ayan wasn’t as indifferent as Aria had assumed.

---

First Observations

One evening, Siya found herself in the small sitting room, absently stirring a cup of tea. Ayan was seated at the table, reviewing some papers—a stack of correspondence related to his work as head of security. His posture was as formal as ever, his expression focused, but there was an underlying tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Siya had noticed that Ayan was rarely home, often returning late from his duties, tired but composed. He was a man who held his responsibilities above all else, yet something in the quiet of their home told her that he carried more burdens than just the demands of his job.

"You work late often," Siya said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, non-confrontational—she didn’t want to seem accusatory, just curious. "It must be exhausting."

Ayan glanced up at her, surprised by the change in her tone. Aria had rarely spoken to him without anger or frustration, so this small attempt at conversation seemed to catch him off guard.

"It comes with the job," Ayan replied simply, his voice even. "There’s always something that needs attending to."

Siya nodded, sensing that he wasn’t used to talking about himself, especially not with his wife. She decided to take a different approach, steering the conversation toward something less personal. "The house is quiet when you’re away. It must feel different for you, living here compared to the city."

Ayan paused, as if weighing his response. "It’s… different, yes," he said, his tone careful. "But it’s quieter. Less distraction."

Siya detected a hint of something in his voice, perhaps relief or resignation—she couldn’t quite tell. She wondered if he preferred the quiet isolation of this place, or if, like Aria, he missed the liveliness of the city. But one thing was clear: Ayan wasn’t completely immune to the distance between them. He just chose not to show it.

---

A Change in Siya’s Approach

As days passed, Siya made more subtle efforts to engage with Ayan, watching him closely, trying to understand the man behind the uniform. She began to see small details—how he would leave the house at the crack of dawn, often without breakfast, or how his eyes would flicker with fatigue by the time he returned in the evening. He never complained, never showed any sign of frustration, but it was clear that his work took a toll on him.

One night, Siya waited for him at the dinner table, determined to speak with him again. When Ayan walked in, his expression briefly flickered with surprise at the sight of her waiting there. Aria had never made the effort to sit down and share a meal with him, and Siya could tell that her presence unsettled him.

"Is everything alright?" Ayan asked cautiously as he took his seat.

Siya offered a small smile. "I thought we could have dinner together. It’s been a while."

Ayan didn’t respond immediately, but there was a flicker of something—perhaps suspicion or uncertainty—in his gaze. "Alright," he said quietly, and for the first time, they sat across from each other in silence, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates.

Siya tried to make small talk, asking him about his day, about his work, and while his responses were brief, she could sense the walls between them beginning to crack—just a little. Ayan was still guarded, but he was responding to her, however subtly.

---

The First Glimpse of Vulnerability

One evening, after another long day of attempting to adjust to this life, Siya noticed Ayan returning home unusually late. He walked in, his shoulders tense, and there was something different about his expression—he looked weary, more than just physically tired. His usual composure was frayed, and for the first time, Siya saw a glimpse of the weight he carried on his own.

Without thinking, she stood up as he entered the room. "You’re home late again," she said softly, watching him closely.

Ayan glanced at her, his eyes tired but still holding that same guarded look. "There were… complications with the patrols today," he replied, loosening the buttons of his uniform. "Nothing to worry about."

But Siya could sense there was more to it. She hesitated before stepping closer, her voice gentle. "You don’t have to carry everything on your own, Ayan. You can talk to me… if you want."

For a moment, Ayan looked as if he might respond—his lips parted, and his eyes met hers with a flicker of something raw. But just as quickly as the vulnerability appeared, it vanished, replaced by his usual stoic expression. He shook his head, taking a step back. "It’s fine," he said firmly. "I’m fine."

Siya’s heart sank as she watched him retreat back into his emotional armor, but she didn’t push further. She knew that earning his trust wouldn’t happen overnight. Ayan was a man used to handling everything on his own, and the idea of relying on someone—especially someone like Aria, who had never offered him support—was foreign to him.

---

A Growing Understanding

Over the next few weeks, Siya became more attuned to the small moments between them—the way Ayan’s eyes would soften slightly when he thought she wasn’t looking, or how his responses to her attempts at conversation became less clipped, more natural. He still kept his distance emotionally, but Siya could sense that he was slowly lowering his defenses, even if just a little.

One evening, after dinner, Siya found herself alone with Ayan in the sitting room once more. The silence between them felt different now—less heavy, more comfortable. She glanced at him, noting how he stared into the fire, lost in thought.

"Ayan," she said softly, breaking the silence. "I know… things haven’t been easy between us. But I want to try. I want to understand you better."

Ayan looked at her, his eyes searching her face for a long moment. For a brief second, Siya thought he might dismiss her again, might retreat behind the wall he had built around himself. But instead, he sighed—a soft, tired sound—and leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering to the flames.

"It’s not that simple," he said quietly, his voice low. "You think you can just… understand, but it’s not that easy."

Siya’s heart ached at the resignation in his tone. "I know it’s not easy. But we can try. You don’t have to go through everything alone."

Ayan didn’t respond immediately, but Siya could see the conflict in his eyes—the battle between the part of him that wanted to stay closed off and the part of him that longed for connection. He stared into the fire for a long time, and finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Aria… you never wanted this life. I know that. But neither did I."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***