The next days unfolded like threads on a loom, thin at first, delicate and uncertain, yet weaving themselves into something strong and undeniable. Aria tried to keep her distance, reminding herself of the warnings etched into every corner of her life:
Men of learning do not care for women of poverty. And if they do, it is never in ways that end well.
But Kaelan was not like the others.
He did not stand with the overseers.He did not walk with the wealthy families on Hawthorne Street.He did not look at her with pity or possession.
He looked at her like someone remembering a name he had once carved into the bark of an ancient tree.
Someone familiar.Someone cherished.Someone found.
Kaelan came every morning now.
He claimed he was documenting the rhythms of factory life but his notebook remained half-empty, while his eyes held only Aria.
At first, the other workers snickered.
A scholar, for her?
Aria must have bewitched him. She'll lose her job over this, foolish girl.
Aria clenched her jaw and ignored them.She wanted nothing to do with Kaelan, or so she told herself. But when she arrived at the mill gates and found him waiting, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, a gentle smile softening his face, her heart betrayed her every single time.
Morning, Aria.
Good morning, Kaelan.
It became their ritual.
Their secret world carved out of a few stolen seconds.
The spinning room was a storm of noise. Dozens of machines clattered in a mechanical frenzy that shook the floorboards. Fine cotton dust filled the air like pale fog. Workers wrapped handkerchiefs around their mouths to keep from choking. Many still coughed themselves to sleep.
Aria worked quickly, fingers moving with practiced precision, but her mind drifted toward the lamppost across the street, toward the voice that said her name like it was something precious.
She chastised herself for it.Dreams were for women with time.Hope was for women with choices.
Aria had neither.
Yet every time she felt her thoughts slipping into longing, she told herself:
Just this once.Just for a moment.Let me feel something other than survival.
Kaelan was losing himself, and he knew it.
He sat in the corner of the union office that afternoon, pretending to read over accident reports, but all he saw in the margins were glimpses of Aria, her eyes, her careful smile, her hesitation that always softened when she finally looked at him fully.
His colleague, James Hargreaves, frowned at him from across the table.
You've been distracted for days, James said, rubbing his temple. And you've submitted only half the documentation.
Kaelan tried to compose himself. I, I am adjusting my methodology.
James raised an eyebrow. Your methodology now includes standing outside the Hawthorne Mill every morning?
Kaelan stiffened. I am observing worker flow patterns.
James scoffed. You're observing a girl, Kaelan.
Kaelan did not argue.
He couldn't, because it was true. And yet- how could he explain that she wasn't just a girl? That something in her presence felt like fate rearranging itself around him?
That he had woken last night with her name on his lips, as if whispering an old prayer?
He couldn't explain it.
So he said nothing.
Aria didn't expect him to walk home with her again.
But when the mill doors slid open at sunset, and she stepped into the cool evening air, there he was, waiting.
He didn't speak at first.He simply fell into step beside her.
It felt…natural. Too natural.
Their silence was a warm one, thick with unspoken thoughts. The city moved around them, horses clattering down the cobblestones, street vendors calling out their end of day bargains, the distant clang of metal workshops closing.
You work too hard, Kaelan said quietly, breaking the silence.
Aria scoffed. If I don't work hard, I don't eat.
You should not have to live this way.
She stopped walking and turned to him with a fierceness he hadn't expected.
No one should, she said, but people do, every day. And no one with power cares.
The emotion in her voice surprised even her.
Kaelan's eyes softened. I care, Aria.
She shook her head. You care because you don't understand. This life…it's a prison you can't see from where you stand.
I want to understand, Kaelan whispered. Teach me.
Her breath faltered.
She didn't know how to answer that.
How to tell him that letting him close would be the most dangerous thing she'd ever done.
They walked again, slower this time, neither wanting the moment to end.
When they reached the narrow alley where they would part ways, Aria felt her pulse quicken.
Good night, Kaelan, she murmured, voice barely steady.
He stepped closer not touching her, never touching her but close enough that she felt heat radiate through the cold evening air.
Good night, Aria, he said softly.Then, after a beat; I hope tomorrow finds you safe.
Her throat tightened.
Why did he say things like that? Things that sank into her heart and settled there like warm stones?
She nodded and turned away but after only two steps, she stopped.
Turned back.
And for the first time since she'd met him, Aria let herself truly look at Kaelan, not with fear, not with caution, but with the soft hopelessness of a woman who knows she is already losing a battle she never meant to fight.
Kaelan inhaled sharply at the sight.
Their eyes held.Their breaths mingled.The world shrank to the space between them.
For just one suspended moment, it felt like two souls leaning toward each other after a long, long separation.
But then Aria blinked, breaking the spell.
She turned away and disappeared into the boarding house.
Kaelan remained in the street long after she was gone.
His notebook lay forgotten under his arm.
His heart beat strangely unevenly like it had found something and did not know how to hold it without breaking.