Crack in the armor

Elena thought she had mastered the house routine, the endless corridors, the constant tasks.

She hates the fact that the house is always too quiet, the silence always makes her think of Adrian.

It was raining heavily that evening, and she went into the office to drop off some files. She didn't expect to see Adrian there, but he was there hunched over his desk.

“Leave the files there,” he said without looking up. His voice sounded very tired.

Elena dropped the files on the table and turned to leave, but stopped suddenly, turning back towards Adrian.

“You should rest,” she said before she could stop herself.

He raised his eyes slowly pinning her with a look that made her heart race. “You’re giving me orders now?”

“I’m just saying ..you look tired.” She replied.

He leaned back in his chair and let out a low laugh.

“You think I built this by resting?” He glanced at the shelves, desks, and the whole empire beyond the glasses. “No. I built it because I had nothing and I refused to stay nothing.”

Something in his voice pulled her. She should have turned to leave instead, she whispered, “That sounds lonely.”

His expression changed, something real, something hidden. He chuckled slightly “Careful Elena, you almost sound like you care.”

Her cheeks burned. “I don't.”

That night, she couldn't sleep. She replayed every word Adrian said in her head. She got up to get water in the kitchen and froze when she saw him there. He was leaning against the counter with a glass of water in his hand, looking strangely alone.

Their eyes met. Neither spoke.

Finally, he said, “You sneak around like a thief.”

“You shouldn't be awake either,” she shot back immediately.

“Insomnia. A habit I’ve never managed to break, she stared at him for a while before asking.” What keeps you up?”

He fixed his gaze on her for a long time before deciding to answer.

“Memories.” He answered softly.

The word felt heavy on her chest. She didn’t ask again, though she wanted to. She just nodded, turned, and poured some water.

But she felt his eyes on her as she walked back to her room.

Two nights later, she served him dinner in the dining room. He barely ate, his mind clearly elsewhere.

You don’t eat much,” she said before she could stop herself.

His eyes lifted slowly. “And you notice.”

“Not eating won’t fix anything.”

His fork paused. For a moment, she thought he might snap. Instead, he set it down and leaned back, watching her like she’d crossed a line.

“Do you always talk to your employer this way?”

“Only when he acts like he’s not human.”

His lips curved—not with humor, but with something darker. “Being human is a weakness.”

“Or maybe it’s the only thing that makes you matter,” she shot back.

The silence that followed was so sharp she could hear her own heartbeat.

Then he said, soft but dangerous, “Careful, Elena. Look too close, and you might see things you’re not ready for.”

He stood and left, leaving her shaken by the truth in his words.