lynx

A hand gripped his sleeve, pulling him away from his thoughts. He blinked, looking down to see Maeve gazing up at him, concern evident in her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Kruger opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn't trust himself to speak.

Maeve sighed. Without another word, she turned to her friends. "We'll meet you guys later."

Kyla frowned. "Huh? What do you—"

She didn't wait for an answer. She simply grabbed his wrist and tugged him in the opposite direction. They weaved through the crowd until the noise faded into a distant hum. The area they entered was noticeably quieter, with fewer people bustling about. There were small shops lined up, selling handmade crafts and trinkets, nothing extravagant, just simple things meant for the everyday folk.

She finally stopped, letting out a breath. She turned to him. "Are you overwhelmed?"

"No."

It wasn't entirely a lie. She studied him for a moment, skeptical, but she didn't push. A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"What do you think about the Rumbling?"

"The Rumbling?" He nodded.

She crossed her arms, leaning against a wooden post. "Well... to be honest, I never really paid much attention to what was happening beyond the walls. I grew up... ignorant, I guess you could say. I know it's not a good thing, but I grew up like that. My world was just my home, my farm, my parents. I was content." She let out a small, humorless chuckle.

"-And then my parents died, and I just... shut everything else out. So when it came to things like politics or world affairs, I never really bothered with them."

He remained silent, listening.

"So when I first heard about the Rumbling, I thought it was... horrible. Genocide is never a good thing. But then I started hearing about why it happened, about how the entire world wanted this island dead." Her gaze flickered to him.

"Honestly? I get it. I get why he did it. That Yelen? Elen? Whoever that was, was just trying to protect his home, his people. Now, after everything, after saving the island, the government wants his head." She shook her head.

"That's what makes me feel bad the most."

Eren felt something tighten in his chest. She sympathized with him. Not in a blindly loyal way, like the Yeagerists. Not in an apathetic way, like some who claimed the past was the past. She understood that he had done something unforgivable. But she also understood why. He clenched his fists, the guilt was suffocating.

He had to tell her. She deserved the truth.

"Maeve, I—"

"Oh my god!"

He blinked as she suddenly dashed toward a small stand. It took him a second to process the abrupt shift in atmosphere. Maeve was practically vibrating as she pointed at something inside the shop. "I've been dreading buying these for so long!"

He stepped closer, peering inside. Miniature toys. Tiny wooden figures of horses, birds, and even some poorly made human figurines. His serious thoughts were completely derailed.

Maeve looked up at him with childlike excitement. "Aren't they cute?"

He stared at her. Then at the tiny, slightly ugly figurines. Then back at her. A small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

For now... He would let himself savor this moment.

--

There was no way Maeve was getting into another carriage today, not if she wanted to keep her dignity intact. One bout of puking in public was enough humiliation for one day. Unfortunately, since their decision was last minute, they were left with limited options for accommodations. The only hotel within their budget had just two rooms available.

As soon as the receptionist handed them the keys, Kyla, Leah, and Tiffany immediately smirked at each other.

"Dibs on the first room!" Kyla announced, grabbing a key before Maeve could even react.

"Wait—!"

"Have fun, you two!" Tiffany added, winking as she dragged Leah along.

And just like that, they disappeared down the hall. Maeve stared at the remaining key in her hand, then slowly turned to look at Kruger.

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Those idiots did that on purpose."

"It's not a big deal." Oh, it was a big deal. Because the moment they stepped into their room, Maeve's stomach dropped. There was only one bed.

"...You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, rubbing her face.

He glanced at the bed, then at her. "Calm down. I'll just sleep on the floor."

"No," she said instantly. "You're not sleeping on the floor."

He crossed his arms. "I don't mind."

"Well, I mind, we'll just put a pillow in the middle. Problem solved." she shot back, stubborn. He stared at her for a moment before sighing.

"Fine."

With that settled, Maeve grabbed her nightclothes and went to wash up first. The warm water helped ease the tension in her muscles, and by the time she finished drying her hair, she was feeling a little more relaxed. That was until she walked back into the room and came face to face with a shirtless Kruger.

She froze. Kruger, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. He was rubbing a towel over his damp hair, steam still clinging to his skin.

Maeve immediately turned around. "Oh my god—can you not just walk out of the shower like that?!"

"What? It's just a torso."

"Just a torso—?!" Maeve squeezed her eyes shut. "Put a shirt on!"

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said, "Haven't you seen me shirtless multiple times by now?"

Maeve wanted to die.

"This is different!" she spluttered.

"How?"

"IT JUST IS!"

He is clearly enjoying this, but to her relief, he did put on a shirt. Maeve took a deep breath, willing her heart to calm down. Hours later, the room was silent, save for the soft breaths of two people lying side by side. The pillow barrier had long since been forgotten. Maeve was sleeping soundly, her body finally resting after the long day. Until she was jolted awake by violent thrashing.

Her eyes snapped open. At first, she thought it was an earthquake, but then she realized it was Kruger. He was twisting in the sheets, his breaths ragged and harsh. His hands were clenched into fists, his face contorted in a mix of pain and fear. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

Maeve's stomach clenched. "Kruger?"

He didn't respond. He was completely trapped in whatever nightmare had taken hold of him.

"Kruger, wake up!" She quickly sat up, reaching out to him. Nothing. Maeve hesitated for only a second before grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"Kruger!"

The moment his name left her lips, his eyes flew open. His entire body jerked up, his chest heaving. His eyes darted around in panic before finally landing on her. Maeve's breath caught. His eyes were wet. Without thinking, she reached out and cupped his face.

"Hey, It's okay. You're here. You're safe."

Eren swallowed thickly, his breathing still erratic. His hands trembled slightly as they gripped the sheets. Maeve hesitated, then, slowly, she slid closer to him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. He froze and for a moment, she thought he might pull away. Instead, He clung to her. His arms wrapped around her tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck. Maeve's heart twisted. She didn't know what he had seen in his nightmare. Didn't know the burdens he carried. But right now, she just wanted to be here for him.

"I'm here," she murmured, gently rubbing his back. "I won't go anywhere."

He exhaled, his breath shaky. "Stay."

"Of course."

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's warmth. Eventually, his breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Maeve, too, felt her eyelids grow heavy. Before they knew it, they had both drifted off.

"I never get sick!" she had declared proudly, hands on her hips.

Oh, how wrong she was. By the time the carriage had passed the halfway point, she was dying. Her stomach felt like it was waging war against her. The world tilted violently with every bump on the road. The carriage, once a charming method of transportation, had transformed into her own personal torture chamber.

She sat hunched over, miserable, her hands pressed against her stomach. Kruger, sitting beside her, was watching with mild concern.

"You okay?"

"Yep. Totally fine." Maeve swallowed thickly. She was not fine.

"You look like you're about to puke." Kyla, sitting across from her, grinned.

Leah nudged her with an amused smirk. "Didn't you say you never get sick?"

Maeve shot them a weak glare. "Shut—" She paused, pressing her lips together tightly as her stomach lurched.

Kruger reached out and steadied her shoulder. "Breathe through your nose," he advised, voice surprisingly gentle.

She tried, it barely helped. For the rest of the ride, she sat there, rigid and nauseous, fighting for her life. Every jolt, every turn, every movement of the carriage was pure suffering. By the time they reached the grand gates of Mitras, she was hanging on by a thread. The moment the carriage came to a stop and the door swung open, fresh air rushed in, and Maeve lost it.

She stumbled out, barely making it to the street before she vomited her entire soul onto the pristine pavement of Wall Sina.

Silence.

Absolute, horrified silence.

The elegant, well-dressed citizens of Mitras, high-class nobles, merchants, and snobby aristocrats, gasped in disgust. An older woman clutched her pearls. A man stepped back as if personally offended. A child screamed.

"Oh, gods, kill me now..." Maeve groaned, wiping her mouth weakly. Tiffany immediately sprang into action.

"OH! MY SISTER!" she wailed dramatically, throwing her arms around Maeve like a grieving widow.

"THE ILLNESS HAS TAKEN HER!"

Kyla caught on instantly and fake sobbed into Leah's shoulder. "SHE FOUGHT SO HARD!"

"IF ONLY SHE HAD MORE TIME!" Leah clutched her chest.

"You guys are the worst." Maeve, still hunched over, glared at them, but somehow, the nobles, who had been staring at Maeve in pure horror, now looked concerned.

"The poor thing... What illness is she suffering from?"

Kyla gasped, looking at him with big, sorrowful eyes. "Oh, sir, it's—it's an ancient disease!"

Tiffany nodded gravely. "A rare stomach plague!"

"Highly contagious." Leah sniffled. Immediately, every noble bolted. They scattered like terrified pigeons, skirts and coats flapping as they fled.

Maeve groaned again, still miserable. "Can you guys not make a scene—"

And then she felt a hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. Kruger, crouching beside her, handed her a handkerchief.

"Here."

Maeve took it weakly, wiping her mouth as he reached into the bag he'd been carrying and pulled out a small flask.

"Drink," he said, holding it out to her.

She sniffed it cautiously. "What is it?"

"Water."

She blinked at him. "...You actually packed water?"

"Unlike some people, I prepare for long trips."

She huffed but took a sip anyway. The cool liquid was heavenly against her dry throat. After a few moments of silence, he sighed.

"You really don't get sick often, huh?"

"I'm never eating before a carriage ride again." Maeve groaned, leaning against his shoulder.

Kruger chuckled. "Smart choice."

She let out a weak laugh, still feeling lightheaded. "You're not gonna make fun of me?"

"I could, but you look too pathetic right now."

She lightly smacked his arm. "Jerk."

"You threw up in front of half the nobles of Mitras."

"Shut up!" He laughed, standing up before offering her his hand.

Maeve, miraculously, bounced back fast. She was marching ahead, looking perfectly fine, like she hadn't just vomited in front of high-class nobles. Her friends, however, were not going to let it go so easily.

"You're like one of those birds that just casually flies into a window and acts like nothing happened," Kyla whispered.

Leah snorted. "She's mastered the ancient art of embarrassment denial."

Tiffany grinned. "We love that for her."

"Can we please just forget about it?"

"Never," they all said in unison.

Kruger, walking beside Maeve, glanced at her, amused. "You do recover fast."

She scowled. "You were supposed to have my back."

"I did. I gave you water."

"Yeah, but—" Maeve turned to glare at him and finally took in the absolutely ridiculous disguise he was wearing. A worn-out brown hat that was too big for his head. An old pair of glasses with no lenses. A scarf wrapped up to his nose.

He looked like some deranged artist from a bad play. Maeve stared. Leah and Kyla were already biting their lips, struggling to hold in their laughter.

Tiffany was shaking. "Oh my god—"

Maeve, against all odds, managed to not laugh. Instead, she cleared her throat and turned to her friends.

"I think we should go to the quieter parts of Mitras," she suggested quickly, hoping to distract them. "You know, to avoid crowds."

Kyla raised an eyebrow. "Because of him?" She not so subtly gestured at Kruger's disastrous attempt at a disguise.

"Yeah, Kruger's not fond of crowds."

Her friends stared at her. Then at him. Then back at her. Maeve held her breath. Miraculously, they didn't question it.

"Alright, if you say so." Tiffany just smiled, eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Yep. We'll just pretend this totally normal situation makes sense." Leah smirked.

Kyla sighed dramatically. "What a shame. I was really looking forward to seeing how long he could last before people started questioning that outfit."

"There's nothing wrong with it." Kruger frowned slightly.

Tiffany snorted. "You look like a failed detective."

"-Or an artist who got kicked out of a museum." Leah grinned.

"-Or a shady merchant who sells forbidden cabbages." Kyla added.

Maeve wheeze-laughed at that one. Kruger sighed, clearly rethinking all his life choices. But, despite the teasing, no one pressed further. No one questioned why Maeve was so insistent on keeping Eren away from crowds. No one asked why he, despite acting like he was unbothered, still seemed on edge.

They just let it go. So, with Kruger looking like a struggling poet and Maeve pretending everything was totally normal, they set off into the quieter parts of Mitras.

--

The city had a strange way of making someone feel both safe and uneasy at the same time. Maeve walked alongside her friends, her arms full of small bags containing herbs, spices, and a few other essentials. Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder, checking, making sure that he was still there.

Eren wasn't wandering off, but he was surveying the area like a soldier on duty, eyes sharp, body tense. His ridiculous disguise had been slightly adjusted, his scarf was now pulled down a bit, and his hat was tilted lower, casting a shadow over his face.

Kyla noticed Maeve's constant glances and smirked. "Scared he's gonna disappear on you?"

"No. Just making sure he doesn't actually get lost."

Leah nudged her playfully. "You sure? You've been looking at him like a lost puppy."

"I do not—"

Tiffany cut her off with a laugh. "Oh, please. It's so obvious. Every time he lags behind, you look back so fast, like you're worried he's been kidnapped or something."

Maeve rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. Because deep down, there was a small fear gnawing at her.

What if he did disappear?

She had grown so used to his presence that the thought of him leaving, of him not being there anymore, made her stomach twist. She shook the thought away as they passed by a small, makeshift stage where a group of people had gathered. Some were standing on crates, passionately shouting their beliefs to the crowd. Maeve barely paid them any attention, but Leah suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, great. Them."

Maeve blinked. "Them?"

Tiffany groaned. "The Yeagerists."

"Who?"

All three of her friends turned to her with deadpan expressions.

Leah shook her head. "I wonder how you're still alive when you're that ignorant of what's happening to the world."

Kyla waved a hand toward the stage. "Them. They're a group of extremists who follow Eren Yeager and believe in everything he stood for. They're still pretty active, even after the war."

"And what exactly do they stand for?"

Tiffany sighed. "Basically? They think Paradis should be ruled by Yeagerists, and anyone who doesn't support their ideals is a threat."

Maeve frowned. She had never really paid much attention to politics or world affairs. she had been too busy trying to survive and rebuild her life after everything.

Tiffany suddenly grinned. "Oh! That reminds me—remember how Maeve reacted during the Rumbling?"

"Don't." Maeve's stomach dropped. Leah and Kyla's faces lit up.

"Oh my god, YES. I completely forgot about that!" Kyla cackled.

Eren, standing behind them, tensed.

Tiffany continued, giggling. "When Eren Yeager announced the Rumbling—you thought you were dreaming! You literally woke up, heard the actual declaration of genocide, and went back to sleep."

"And then the next day, when everyone was freaking out about the end of the world, she casually walked outside like, 'Wait... that wasn't a dream?'" Leah wheezed.

Maeve groaned, covering her face. "I thought it was just another weird dream! It felt like a dream!"

Kyla laughed. "Imagine being so unbothered that you sleep through the literal end of humanity."

He clenched his jaw. Hearing them casually talk about it, laugh about it, felt strange. He had seen the destruction firsthand. The burning cities, the screams, the endless march of the titans beneath him. The sky had turned gray from the ash of crumbling buildings. His friends fighting with their lives just to stop him, and yet, here they were, joking about it like it was some absurd event in history.

His hands curled into fists. He had to force himself to stay calm.

Leah, unaware of his inner turmoil, turned to Maeve with a curious expression. "Hey, Maeve, what do you think about Eren Yeager?"

Eren stiffened.

Maeve hummed, tilting her head. "What do I think about him?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you clearly didn't care enough to stay awake for his world-ending speech, but still—what's your opinion on him?"

"If I were in his shoes... I'd probably do the same."

Silence. Her friends stared at her. His breath hitched.

Kyla blinked. "What?"

"If I had that much power, and if the entire world wanted me and my love ones dead, I think wiping out my enemies would be the logical thing to do."

Leah's jaw dropped. "You seriously would've committed genocide?"

"You do realize that we were all going to die if he didn't do anything, right?"

Tiffany crossed her arms. "I mean... technically true, but still."

"Look, I get why people hate him, but from a survival standpoint? He did what he thought was necessary, and you know what they say 'history is written by the victors'"

Kyla groaned. "You and the Yeagerists would get along."

"Okay, no. Those guys are weird." Maeve wrinkled her nose. Her friends laughed, and the conversation moved on.

Eren, however, couldn't move on. Maeve's words echoed in his mind. Something in his chest tightened.

"They didn't even step inside yet, and I already have a headache." Maeve, who had just finished setting out tea, sighed dramatically.

Leah grinned. "Aww, don't be like that, Maeve. We did give you a notice this time. We're practically model guests now!"

"Please, we are model guests." Kyla's sharp eyes flickered back to Eren. "But back to my main point—what the hell are you still doing here, Kruger?"

He smirked. "Good to see you too, Kyla."

Tiffany gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Oh? Oh? Did you just—did he just—?" She turned to Maeve, eyes wide.

"He's talking back now, fluently?! Maeve, what have you done?"

"Don't start."

Kyla, ignoring Maeve's suffering, narrowed her eyes at Kruger, pretending to inspect him. "You have gotten more comfortable, huh? Last time, you just sat there all stiff while we interrogated you."

"What can I say? The farm life grew on me."

Leah gasped. "The farm life?" She turned to Maeve, eyes sparkling. "Maeve, you've domesticated him!"

He chuckled. "Domesticated?"

"Yes, dear Kruger. You were once a mysterious traveler, a lone wolf, a man of the wild. But look at you now—helping around the farm, drinking tea, wearing shoes that Gloria sent you." Tiffany sniffled dramatically. "It's beautiful, really."

"I regret making tea for you guys."

Kyla smirked, but then her sharp gaze landed back on Kruger. "But seriously, why are you still here?"

The teasing tone in her voice was clear, but there was also genuine curiosity behind her words. He glanced at Maeve, who was very obviously avoiding eye contact. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

"Because Maeve begged me to stay."

Maeve choked on air. Leah, Kyla, and Tiffany gasped in perfect unison.

"YOU WHAT!" Leah shrieked.

Maeve whirled on him. "I did not! Don't just—stop saying things like that so casually!"

"You did say you were happy with me staying."

"Stop it, I can't breathe." Tiffany clutched Kyla's arm for support.

Kyla, faking a look of devastation, shook her head at Maeve. "You never told us that you were happy when we stayed over."

"We're just... replaceable to you, huh?" Leah dramatically wiped away a nonexistent tear.

"I hate you all."

After the initial chaos, they finally settled down in the living room with snacks and tea.

"Okay, but really, Kruger, you're like... seriously staying here now, huh?" Tiffany leaned forward, grinning.

Kruger stretched his arms, smirking. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?"

"That's a yes." Leah gasped.

Kyla pointed at him. "That's a man who has no intentions of leaving."

Maeve, who had been sipping her tea, choked again. He just smirked at her, clearly enjoying her suffering. "I did say I'd stay a little longer."

"A little longer?" Kyla repeated, raising an eyebrow. "It's been weeks, my guy."

Tiffany giggled. "At this rate, we should just start calling this place Maeve and Kruger's farm."

Maeve waved them off. "Alright, alright, we get it. Can you all stop analyzing his stay duration like it's some mystery novel?"

"Oh, but Maeve, it is a mystery novel! A mysterious, handsome traveler appears in your life, uninvited but intriguing! He plans to leave, but oh no, what's this? He's staying?! What could be keeping him here?" Leah gasped dramatically.

"Care to share, Kruger?" She turned to him, eyes sparkling. He held back a laugh, looking at Maeve, who looked like she wanted to disappear. Instead of answering, he leaned back and smirked.

"I like the food here."

Tiffany cackled.

"Ugh, boring answer." Kyla groaned.

Maeve threw a pillow at his face. "Oh, shut up."

The girls stayed for most of the afternoon, filling the house with constant laughter, teasing, and the occasional very personal questions directed at Kruger—most of which Maeve had to physically stop them from asking. By the time evening rolled in, it was time for them to leave.

As they stood at the doorway, Kyla turned to Kruger with an amused smirk. "You know, I kinda like you now."

"Only now?"

"Don't push your luck."

Leah grinned at Maeve. "You know, Maeve, you could have just told us you wanted to keep him."

"Get out."

Tiffany giggled. "See you soon, Kruger! And try not to make Maeve faint with your presence, okay?"

"No promises."

Maeve shoved them out the door.

As they walked away, Kyla called over her shoulder, "Take care of your domesticated traveler, Maeve!"

"KYLA, I SWEAR—"

The girls' laughter echoed into the night. Just as Maeve was about to sigh in relief at finally getting rid of her chaotic friends, Kyla suddenly spun around just before disappearing down the path.

"Oh, and by the way—WE'RE COMING BACK TOMORROW TO DRAG YOU TWO TO THE CITY WITH US! NO EXCUSES!"

"What?!" Maeve's jaw dropped.

Leah waved with a big grin. "See you at sunrise!"

Tiffany cupped her hands around her mouth. "Wear something cute, Maeve!"

"We are NOT going!" Maeve shouted back, but they were already walking away, laughing.

She turned to Kruger, ready to complain about her friends' insanity, when she noticed something odd. Instead of protesting or looking for an excuse, He simply sighed and said,

"Okay."

Maeve blinked. Wait. What?

"You—you're agreeing?" she asked, completely caught off guard.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Might as well."

"But you flinched when Kyla said it. Are you sure you're okay with going?"

Kruger exhaled through his nose, looking away for a moment. He was uncomfortable with the idea of going into a crowded city, too many eyes, too much risk, but...

"I'll just be more careful," he muttered.

Maeve still looked uncertain, but after a moment, she slowly nodded. "...Alright. But if you feel uncomfortable, just tell me, okay?"

He glanced at her, at her furrowed brows, the way her lips were pressed together in concern, the way she was actually worried about him, and something in his chest tightened.

He quickly looked away and shrugged again. "Yeah. Sure."

Maeve squinted at him suspiciously. Something was off. Before she could press further, Kruger grabbed his coat and walked toward the stairs. "I'm heading to bed early, then. If we're being kidnapped by your friends tomorrow, I might as well get some rest."

"You're the one agreeing to go. I was ready to fight for my right to stay home."

"You'd lose."

Maeve threw a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly.

"Goodnight, Maeve," he said, turning away.

She crossed her arms. "You're acting weird."

Kruger just waved her off as he settled on the couch. Maeve stared after him, still confused.

Behind her, Kruger was setting their things down, a woven picnic basket filled with food, a blanket spread over the soft grass, and a small towel for when they finished swimming. He glanced up at her, watching the way she tested the water so carefully.

"You're acting like you've never swum in cold water before," Kruger commented, his lips twitching. She turned her head slightly, her brows furrowing.

"Excuse me for wanting to mentally prepare myself," she shot back playfully.

He chuckled as he stood up straight. Without another word, he walked past her, stepping right into the water without hesitation. She barely had time to react before he was already waist-deep, pushing his damp hair back with a hand.

He looked back at her, tilting his head. "You coming?"

"You didn't even hesitate."

"I've had worse," He shrugged, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement.

She huffed before finally stepping forward, letting the water reach her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. The initial cold made her shiver slightly, but after a few moments, she adjusted to it. Kruger was already further ahead, the water reaching his shoulders. She noticed how effortlessly he moved through it, his toned arms flexing slightly as he swam in slow, lazy strokes.

Damn it. Why did he have to look so good doing the simplest things?

She shook her head, scolding herself for thinking such things. Instead, she focused on easing herself deeper into the water. As soon as she reached a deeper part, Kruger smirked and suddenly splashed water in her direction.

She gasped, shielding her face. "Hey!"

He only laughed. "What? You looked too comfortable."

She glared at him before splashing him back hard.

"Oh, you're playing dirty now?"

She smirked. "What, can't handle a little splash?"

Kruger grinned, but there was a challenge in his eyes. Without warning, he lunged forward, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly lifting her up.

She yelped, her arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. "Kruger! Put me down!"

He only laughed before spinning them in the water, causing her to let out a string of breathless giggles. He finally let her go, but not before making sure she was steady.

She splashed him again as soon as she caught her breath. "You are so annoying."

"You love it."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she quickly pushed the thought away, rolling her eyes instead. They swam for a while longer, talking and laughing in between playful splashes and small competitions over who could hold their breath underwater the longest. When they eventually got out of the water, the sun had begun to set, casting a golden glow over everything. They dried themselves off and sat on the blanket, the soft grass beneath them slightly damp from the day's warmth.

Maeve opened the picnic basket, taking out the food she had prepared: a freshly baked bread, slices of cheese, cold fruit, and a bottle of homemade juice.

"I didn't know you planned all of this," Kruger commented, raising an eyebrow as she handed him a plate.

"I figured we might as well make a day out of it."

He took a bite of the bread, chewing thoughtfully before nodding. "It's good."

"I know."

He rolled his eyes at her smug tone but said nothing, simply continuing to eat. For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of nature. The rustling leaves, the distant chirping of birds, the soft lapping of water against the shore.

"...This is nice."

She glanced at him, slightly surprised. He wasn't one to openly admit things like that. She smiled softly.

"Yeah, it is."

Kruger turned to look at her then, his eyes flickering over her features. The way the golden light framed her face, the way her damp hair clung to her skin, the peaceful expression she wore, he had to look away before his thoughts spiraled too far. Maeve, on the other hand, found herself staring at him. The way the sunset painted his skin in warm hues, the way his damp hair fell messily over his forehead, the way his lips curled slightly as he chewed—

She swallowed, quickly looking away.

No. She refused to acknowledge what she was feeling. Because if she did, then it would be real, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

Instead, she forced a small laugh, nudging Kruger's arm. "Who knew you could be sentimental?"

"Shut up."

She only giggled, shaking her head. As the sun dipped lower, casting an orange glow over the lake, neither of them said anything else. But in that moment, words weren't needed, because in the quiet, in the warmth, in the stolen glances and soft laughter. Something unspoken lingered between them.

--

The walk back home was peaceful, the kind that settled deep into the soul and made the world feel quiet. The air was crisp after their swim, carrying the scent of fresh earth and damp grass. Maeve felt lighter, as if the weight of her emotions had been washed away in the lake.

Kruger walked beside her, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze relaxed as he occasionally glanced toward her. Every now and then, she would catch his eyes lingering, but neither of them said anything. For a moment, everything felt right. But that peace shattered the moment they neared her house and saw Lloyd standing outside her door. Maeve slowed down, her stomach twisting at the sight of him pacing back and forth, his hands on his hips. The second he spotted them, his expression morphed into one of exaggerated relief, and he rushed toward her.

"Oh, thank god you're okay, Maeve! I've been knocking and calling for hours, but no one answered! I thought something had happened to you!"

She blinked, her exhaustion from the day creeping back. "Lloyd, what—?"

"And him!" Lloyd suddenly pointed an accusatory finger at Kruger, his expression twisting into one of suspicion. "He was gone too! What, did he take you somewhere against your will?"

"What? No—"

"You can tell me, Maeve. If he's forcing you into something—"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lloyd," she snapped, rubbing her temples in frustration. "Stop."

But Lloyd wasn't listening. His gaze remained locked on Kruger, who had yet to say a word, his jaw tightening as he observed the situation.

"Are you blackmailing her?" Lloyd accused, stepping forward. "Is that why she's letting you stay? What kind of dirt do you have on her—"

"Lloyd, enough!" She cut in, her patience wearing dangerously thin. "You're being ridiculous!"

But he still wasn't listening. Instead, he suddenly reached out, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her away from Kruger. The sharp pain that shot up her arm from her still-sore burn made her gasp, her body jerking slightly at the sensation.

Kruger moved before he could think. In a flash, he grabbed Maeve's waist, pulling her sharply against his chest and ripping her away from Lloyd's grasp. His other hand shot up, shoving Lloyd back with enough force to make him stumble a step.

The air between them instantly turned deadly.

"Back off," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. His hand remained firm around her waist, keeping her behind him as he squared his shoulders.

Lloyd steadied himself, his face twisting with rage. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"The guy keeping you from crossing a line you shouldn't be crossing," Kruger shot back, his tone eerily calm. Lloyd scoffed, stepping forward again, but Eren didn't budge. If anything, his stance only became more solid, his grip on her not loosening even a fraction.

"She doesn't need you," Lloyd spat. "I've been here for her longer than you have! Where the hell did you even come from? What do you want from her?"

"I could ask you the same thing,"

"I'm protecting her," Lloyd argued.

Kruger's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "From what?"

"From you."

He let out a dry laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near growl. "You think I'd ever hurt her?"

"I don't know what you're capable of," Lloyd snapped. "For all I know, you're dangerous."

Eren took a step forward, forcing Lloyd to tilt his head up slightly to maintain eye contact. Despite Lloyd's broad frame, Eren felt like a wall in front of him, his presence suffocating, his rage barely contained.

"And what if I am?"

Lloyd stiffened.

For a moment, it seemed like they were seconds away from throwing punches. The tension was thick, the air heavy, their glares locked like a silent war was waging between them.

"That's enough!" Maeve snapped, stepping between them, placing a firm hand on Kruger's chest before turning to face Lloyd with a sharp glare.

"Lloyd, look, i'm only gonna say this once," she said, her voice as sharp as a blade. "I do not appreciate you coming here unannounced and making a damn scene in front of my home."

Lloyd opened his mouth to argue, but Maeve wasn't done.

"I have been very clear that I don't like you in that way, I appreciate your kindness, I do. But I would appreciate it even more if you respected my boundaries."she continued, anger lacing every word.

Lloyd's face faltered slightly. His shoulders tensed. Finally, finally, he seemed to realize that Maeve was angry. The fight in him wavered. He exhaled sharply through his nose before looking away.

"...I was just worried about you," he muttered.

"I can take care of myself,"

A tense silence followed. Eventually, Lloyd sighed and reached for something he had left on the ground—a small wooden box. He held it out to her.

"This is from Gloria," he said gruffly. "She asked me to bring it to you."

Her expression softened just slightly. She took the box with a small nod. "Thank you."

Lloyd glanced between her and Kruger before shaking his head. "I'll... see you around."

With that, he turned and walked away. Kruger didn't move until Lloyd was out of sight. His shoulders were still tense, his eyes dark with lingering irritation. Maeve let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding before turning to look at him.

"...Sorry," she muttered.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

She hesitated before glancing at him. "You... you didn't have to do that."

His jaw clenched. "The hell I didn't."

She blinked, startled by the quiet fury in his tone. He looked down at her wrist, the same one Lloyd had grabbed. Without thinking, he reached for it, carefully turning it over to inspect it. His fingers were gentle, almost hesitant, as he ran his thumb lightly over her skin. Her breath hitched at the sudden tenderness in his touch.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Kruger's eyes flickered to hers. His fingers lingered just a second longer before he finally released her hand.

"...Let's go inside."

She swallowed, nodding wordlessly. As they stepped inside together, the weight of what had just happened settled between them. But the way he had defended her, how angry he had been, how protective, it stirred something in her chest that she wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge.

And worse?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to fight it anymore.

hi. thank you so much for the support you have given to this story of mine, i wasn't really expecting it to blow up. nonetheless, i hope you are enjoying reading 'her gift' so far :)

She had thought about asking him but in the end, she kept her thoughts to herself. It may be better to let it go. Besides, she reasoned, perhaps this was just how his body worked. A fast metabolism, quick healing, maybe that's where all the food he'd been eating had gone. And god, did he eat, but at least he wasn't just lying around anymore. If anything, she was growing used to having him there.

More than used to it. Well.. maybe too used to it.

She found herself leaning against the wooden fence, watching as he worked. The afternoon sun was high, a golden haze casting warmth over the farm. Kruger was shirtless, again, because, in his words, "It's hot, and I'm not wearing that damn shirt just to get it dirty." She had rolled her eyes at him, but at this point, she had completely given up trying to argue.

So instead, she simply watched as he drove another nail into the fence post, securing the last of the repairs. His arms flexed with the movement, muscles rippling under his skin, his jaw set in concentration. His hair, still damp from the morning mist, stuck to his forehead, and she hated how effortlessly good he looked.

"You're staring," He said without looking up.

She jolted, clearing her throat. "I'm supervising."

He gave a small smirk, glancing up at her from beneath his lashes. "Oh? And how am I doing, supervisor?"

"You missed a spot."

Kruger scoffed but turned back to his work. "You're lying."

"Maybe," she hummed. "Maybe not."

"Annoying." she only smiled.

Later that afternoon, she led him to the sheep pens.

"Alright, farmhand," she teased, handing him a wooden bucket filled with warm water and soap. "Time to see if you can handle giving the sheep a bath."

Kruger lifted an unimpressed brow. "You're joking."

"I am not," she said, setting down her own bucket. "They need a wash, and I need a hand. So, chop chop."

He sighed but rolled up his sleeves. "Fine. But if they kick me, I'm blaming you."

"Don't worry. They'll love you. Maybe."

The first few minutes were uneventful until one of the sheep absolutely decided it wanted no part in this and bolted. He, of course, chased after it.

She stood there, half amused, half in awe as she watched the scene unfold. Kruger, barefoot in the dirt, muscles flexing as he lunged for the sheep, only for it to swerve at the last second, making him nearly faceplant into the mud.

"Damn it!" He cursed, shaking the dirt from his hands.

She doubled over laughing. "Oh my god!"

Kruger glared at her, wiping sweat off his brow. "Help me."

"No way," she wheezed. "This is too good."

"You're the worst," He muttered, before finally tackling the sheep and securing it in his arms. The sheep gave one last pitiful bleat of protest before surrendering to its fate.

When he looked up at Maeve again, she was still smiling, bright, genuine, and warm. And god help him, he wanted to keep looking at that smile forever.

That evening, she had expected to end the day quietly. What she hadn't expected was Kruger bursting into the house, covered in dirt, sweat, and what she could only assume was afterbirth.

"Maeve!"

She jumped at his sudden entrance. "What—?"

"The cow," Kruger panted, leaning against the doorframe. "She's giving birth."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, shit."

She didn't waste another second, grabbing what she needed before rushing outside. The barn was warm, dimly lit by the lanterns hanging from the beams. One of her cows was lying on the hay, her sides heaving as she struggled through labor.

He was already crouched beside her, his hands steady despite the tension in his jaw. "Tell me what to do."

She hesitated. "You really wanna—?"

"Maeve," he looked at her, really looked at her. "Just tell me what to do."

So she did. Together, they worked. The night stretched long, filled with quiet commands, whispered reassurances to the mother cow, and the occasional brush of Kruger's arm against hers. His hands were firm but gentle, his focus unwavering.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, A small, wobbly calf finally entered the world. Maeve exhaled in relief, wiping the sweat from her brow as the newborn made its first weak cries. Kruger sat back on his heels, watching as the mother cow nuzzled her calf. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his gaze that she had never seen before.

"...You did good," she murmured.

He let out a slow breath, before turning his gaze to her.

"You too."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. She became painfully aware of how close they were, knees brushing, the warmth of his skin despite the cool night air, the intensity in his gaze that made her stomach flip.

She swallowed, glancing away. "We should... probably clean up."

Kruger didn't reply immediately. But then he nodded. "Yeah."

That same night, as he lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, he felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest. A feeling he hadn't allowed himself to have in years. He should be planning his next move. Should be thinking about where to go, how to keep moving forward.

But instead... All he could think about was her.

Her laughter. The way her brows furrowed in concentration. The warmth of her voice when she said his name. And worse, how much he didn't want to leave. How much he wanted to protect her, to stay just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Kruger?"

His eyes flickered toward the stairs. Maeve stood there, dressed in her nightclothes, bathed in the soft glow of the lantern she held in her hands. She looked hesitant, as if debating whether or not she should have come down at all.

He immediately sat up. "What is it?"

She stepped closer, revealing that she was holding a pair of shoes in her arms.

"Gloria sent these, they're new. She figured you could use them."

Kruger blinked in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at the shoes in her hands, unsure of what to say. She barely even knew him, yet she had sent him something as if he were... a part of this life. Slowly, he reached out and took them. The leather was sturdy but soft, clearly well-made.

"...Tell her thanks," he muttered. She seemed to study his face for a moment, her expression unreadable. He must have looked troubled, because instead of turning to leave, she hesitated.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked.

Kruger forced himself to relax. "Yeah. Just... tired."

Maeve didn't push further. She simply smiled, a small, knowing smile that made his chest tighten.

"Alright, then get some rest. Goodnight, Kruger." She turned toward the stairs.

"Wait."

Maeve paused, glancing over her shoulder. He swallowed, gripping the shoes in his hands. His mind scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, but his throat felt dry, and his heart was hammering against his ribs.

"I, uh—" He cleared his throat. "Would it be... okay if I stayed a little longer?"

The words left him before he could stop them.

"Huh?"

"I mean—" He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly flustered. "Just for a little longer. I... still want to help out around here. I mean, I owe you for everything, so—"

Her soft laughter cut him off. He froze. Then, to his utter horror, he realized he was stammering. When was the last time he had stammered?

"Kruger."

He shut his mouth. She took a step closer, smiling warmly.

"I'd like that, I'm happy with you staying."

Eren felt something twist deep in his chest. Before he could say anything, before he could even react. Maeve gave him one last look, turned on her heel, and made her way upstairs.

He barely noticed himself nodding, barely noticed himself mumbling a soft, "Goodnight."

Because all he could focus on was how warm his face suddenly felt. The way she had smiled at him. The way she had laughed.

"I'm happy with you staying."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He had seen war. He had witnessed things no man should ever have to witness. He led millions of titans to kill everyone outside of Paradis.

Yet nothing had ever made his heart race the way Maeve just did.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He was in deep.

It was ridiculous. It was infuriating, and yet, it was happening. She regretted letting him stay and not because he was a bother, but because she was a mess. The smallest things he did had started affecting her in ways she never expected.

Like the way he would casually roll up his sleeves while helping her carry feed for the animals, his toned forearms flexing ever so slightly. Or the way he would lean close.. too close, when checking on her injured hand, his fingers grazing her skin longer than necessary. Or the way he smirked whenever she got flustered, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She, of course, was completely oblivious to the fact that Kruger was doing all of this on purpose. He enjoyed it, seeing her flustered, watching her struggle to maintain her usual composure. It was amusing, and strangely enough, it was endearing. Maeve, who had always been so independent and strong-willed, was completely helpless when it came to him. And so, naturally, he took every opportunity to tease her.

One morning, she had just finished feeding her chickens when she heard footsteps approaching behind her.

"Your hair's a mess," Kruger commented casually.

She frowned, patting the top of her head. "What? No, it's not—"

Before she could react, He reachead out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin in the process. Time seemed to slow as she felt the heat rush to her face. Her body betrayed her, stiffening under his touch.

"There," Kruger said, his voice low, his breath warm against her cheek. "That's better."

She swallowed hard. She knew this was nothing to him, just a simple gesture. So why did it feel like her heart was about to burst?

"I-I could've done that myself," she mumbled, stepping back to put distance between them.

"Yeah? Then why didn't you?"

She didn't answer. She simply spun on her heel and fled toward the house, her pulse still erratic. Behind her, he let out a small chuckle. Too easy.

Later that day, she was chopping vegetables for dinner when he walked into the kitchen, yawning as he stretched his arms.

"Smells good," he said, glancing at the pot on the stove. "What are you making?"

"Stew, It should be ready in—"

Before she could finish, she felt a presence directly behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, the way his breath fanned against her shoulder.

"Looks good," he murmured, leaning over slightly to peer at her work.

His voice was deeper, slower, like he was doing this intentionally. Her hands shook, her grip on the knife wavered, and the vegetable slipped, causing the blade to narrowly miss her fingers. He caught her wrist in an instant.

"Careful, you're gonna cut yourself." he said, his grip firm yet gentle. His hand was wrapped around hers, steadying her. His face was close, again—too close.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, trying to pull away, but his grip lingered for just a second longer before he finally let go.

She quickly turned back to her cutting board, desperate to focus on anything but the way her entire body felt hot. Kruger, on the other hand, simply smirked and walked away, acting as if nothing had happened. That same evening, Maeve sat outside on the porch, hoping the cool night air would help clear her mind.

This is getting out of hand.

Her feelings were growing, fast, uncontrollable, and completely terrifying. She knew she shouldn't be like this. She had been alone for so long, used to relying only on herself, and yet, somehow, he had wormed his way into her life, making everything complicated. The sound of footsteps made her tense.

"Not sleeping?" He asked as he approached, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"Couldn't sleep."

He hummed, sitting down beside her. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the forest. Then, unexpectedly, Eren reached out, his fingers grazing her bandaged hand.

"How's this?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual. Maeve's throat went dry.

"It's... fine," she managed to say.

"Good." He ran his thumb over the bandage before finally pulling away. Silence stretched between them again.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Doing what on purpose?"

Maeve turned to glare at him, her cheeks slightly puffed in frustration. "This—making me flustered, messing with me!"

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips. "You think I'm messing with you?"

"You are!"

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Well... I won't deny that I enjoy seeing your reactions."

"You're unbelievable." She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"It's not my fault you're so easy to tease."

She turned away, pouting. He watched her for a moment before exhaling.

"...You're cute when you're flustered."

She choked. Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "Wha—?!"

Kruger simply smirked, standing up.

"Goodnight, Maeve," he said, patting her head before walking off.

She sat there, stunned, her heart pounding. It's safe to say that she had a hard time sleeping that night.

--

Kruger woke up later than usual, the warmth of the morning sun already filtering through the window. He blinked groggily, sitting up and running a hand through his hair before glancing around the quiet house. The usual faint sounds of Maeve moving about were absent, making the space feel oddly empty. That's when he noticed the note left neatly on the wooden table beside a plate of breakfast.

"Hi, I just went out to the village to buy some supplies. I'll be back by afternoon."

He stared at the note for a moment before exhaling.

"She could've at least woken me up," he muttered under his breath.

Shaking his head, he sat down and started eating the breakfast Maeve had prepared for him. It was simple, but it was warm, and the fact that she had taken the time to leave it for him made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. After finishing his meal, he decided to make himself useful. Maeve had been doing most of the work around here, and the least he could do was lighten her load. He washed the dishes, swept the floors, and even wiped down the furniture, his movements methodical and practiced.

Once the house was clean, he moved on to his usual morning routine, checking the perimeter, tending to the animals, and making sure everything was secure. He had been keeping a close eye on their surroundings ever since he arrived. He knew he was being hunted, and though this place was far from the city's reach, he couldn't afford to be careless. After his rounds, he took a bath, letting the warm water soothe his tense muscles. When he emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his damp hair, his eyes landed on the large box Maeve's friends had left for her.

His curiosity got the better of him.

What kind of things do women even keep in these?

Kneeling down, he rummaged through the contents, half-expecting to find useless trinkets. There were a few books, some clothes, and a newspaper. His eyes narrowed as he pulled it out, unfolding it carefully. It was dated a few days ago, and as his gaze scanned the page, his blood ran cold.

"WANTED: EREN YEAGER – A THREAT TO PUBLIC SAFETY" "A REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO HIS CAPTURE"

His entire body tensed. He read through the article, his jaw clenching with each word. The government had issued an official statement, labeling him a fugitive, a criminal, a monster. They urged the public to report any sightings of him, promising a hefty reward in return. A sharp breath left his lips as he crumpled the paper in his fists.

Of course they would do this.

They were desperate to find him, to capture him. And if someone from the village recognized him... if someone connected the dots and realized he was hiding here. His grip on the paper tightened before he tossed it into the fireplace. The flames consumed it instantly, turning the inked lies into nothing but ash.

Eren ran a hand over his face, his mind spiraling. He couldn't stay here. Not if it put Maeve in danger. She had been nothing but kind to him, welcoming him into her home without hesitation. If the wrong people found out he was here, she would suffer the consequences. And that was something he couldn't allow.

But if I leave now...

A bitter chuckle left his lips. Why does it feel like I don't want to leave?

The thought disturbed him. He had been on his own for so long—always running, always fighting. But with Maeve... things felt different. The warmth of her home, the way she looked after him, the way she made him feel seen, it was dangerous. He scowled, shaking his head. He needed to focus. He needed to figure out how he was going to protect her. Lost in thought, he didn't even hear the front door open.

"Kruger?"

His head snapped up. Maeve was standing there, holding a small bag of supplies. Her bright eyes immediately scanned his face, brows furrowing in concern. He forced himself to relax, standing up quickly.

"Hey," he greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're back early."

Maeve didn't answer right away. She stepped closer, her gaze sharp.

"You look... angry."

He hesitated. Damn it. She was more perceptive than he gave her credit for. He let out a slow breath, forcing his expression into something neutral.

"Just bored," he lied smoothly.

"You sure? You look like you were about to punch something."

He let out a small chuckle. "Maybe I should. Might help."

Maeve didn't seem convinced, but she let it go. Instead, she walked past him, setting her things down on the table. Eren took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering frustration in his chest. He was about to offer to help when she suddenly turned to him, her eyes lighting up.

"Hey," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. "What if we visit the city soon?"

Eren's entire body went rigid. The city. The worst possible place for him to be. He knew she meant it innocently, probably just wanted to show him around or get more supplies, but the idea of walking into a crowded city, filled with people who might recognize him, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He must've gone stiff because Maeve's smile faltered slightly.

"...Or not," she added quickly, waving a hand. "You don't look like you're ready for that. Forget I said anything."

Eren hated how easily she read him.

He exhaled, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's not that I don't want to go... it's just..."

"You don't have to explain," Maeve interrupted gently. "Really, it's okay."

She said it so easily, without pressing him, without demanding answers. Eren stared at her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze.

"...Thanks,"

She grinned. "Instead of the city, how about we go for a swim tomorrow?"

Eren blinked. "Swim?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "There's a lake not far from here. It's been getting warmer, so I figured it'd be nice."

He thought about it for a moment. Swimming wasn't exactly something he had done in a while, but compared to the city, it sounded... peaceful.

"Alright, let's do it."

"Great! You'll love it, I promise."

She looked genuinely excited, and for the first time that day, Eren felt the tension in his chest ease. Maybe he didn't have to leave just yet.

She barely had time to react before she was met with the sight of her three closest friends—Leah, Kyla, and Tiffany- barreling into her house like a tornado.

"Why didn't you tell us you got a—" Kyla stopped mid-sentence, her mouth dropping open as she pointed behind Maeve.

Maeve blinked in confusion before realizing that there was a warm presence behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Kruger standing in the doorway, shirtless, stretching lazily as if he had just woken up as well. His messy hair, sharp eyes, and broad shoulders made him look effortlessly intimidating, especially to her three very nosy friends.

For a solid five seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

The three women screamed in unison, pointing dramatically at Kruger like they had just seen a ghost. Tiffany grabbed Kyla's shoulders as if she was about to faint, while Leah looked like she was ready to throw holy water at him.

Maeve flinched at the sheer volume. "Oh my god, SHUT UP!"

"You—you—YOU HAVE A MAN IN YOUR HOUSE?!" Tiffany screeched, practically bouncing in place.

"I was NOT expecting this today," Leah whispered, placing a hand over her heart.

Kyla, ever the dramatic one, clutched her chest. "This is a HISTORIC moment! Maeve, the woman who swore off men, has been harboring THIS?!" She gestured wildly at Kruger, who looked mildly amused but mostly unbothered.

Maeve groaned, rubbing her temples. "Can you three please calm down? It's too early for this."

"TOO EARLY? TOO EARLY?! MAEVE, YOU HAVE A SHIRTLESS MAN IN YOUR HOUSE!" Kyla flailed her arms around.

"You guys are acting like I kidnapped him!"

Tiffany narrowed her eyes at Kruger. "Wait a second... you're that Kruger guy, aren't you?"

Kruger finally spoke, his voice calm despite the chaos. "Yeah."

Silence. Then all three women turned to Maeve at once, their faces filled with suspicion.

Maeve sighed, already exhausted. "I'll explain everything, but FIRST, I need tea. And so do you three, apparently."

She stomped off toward the kitchen, leaving Kruger alone with the three very nosy and very persistent women. By the time Maeve had finished preparing a simple breakfast, her unexpected guests had managed to calm down... slightly. They were still whispering among themselves, throwing glances at him as if he were some rare, exotic creature. He sat at the table across from them, eating his food in silence, seemingly unfazed by the attention. Maeve placed the last plate down before sitting next to him. She took one bite of her food before Leah, Tiffany, and Kyla turned to her with synchronized movements.

"So," Leah started, dragging out the word. "You were saying?"

"Kruger is just staying for a few days. That's all."

Tiffany wasn't convinced. "Oh REALLY? Then why was he shirtless?"

Kruger finally spoke up, his voice neutral. "I just woke up."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "See? Nothing scandalous. Now eat your food and stop acting like I have some damn secret love affair."

Her friends still looked skeptical, but they (reluctantly) let the topic go for now. Or so Maeve thought, because the moment she got up to clean the dishes, she heard Leah clear her throat.

"So, Kruger," Leah began, her tone suspiciously sweet. "Are you single?"

Maeve nearly dropped the plate she was washing. Kruger, to his credit, didn't react at first. He simply chewed his food slowly before answering,

"Yeah."

"Interestinggggggg..."

Maeve groaned. "Leah, please don't."

But it was too late. The floodgates had opened.

"What do you do for work, Kruger?" Kyla leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

There was a brief pause before Kruger responded. "Odd jobs. Traveling."

"Mysterious. We like that."

He glanced at Maeve, silently asking for help. Maeve, however, just gave him a you're-on-your-own look and continued washing the dishes.

Tiffany leaned in next. "Why are you traveling?"

"To see the world."

"A man of adventure," Kyla murmured, nodding approvingly.

"Maeve, where did you even find him?! Is this why you never showed interest in other men? You were waiting for a ruggedly handsome, mysterious traveler to crash into your life?!" Tiffany whisper-shouted.

Maeve turned around with a deadpan expression. "Yes, Tiffany. That's exactly what happened. He literally crashed into my doorstep, covered in blood."

The three girls gasped dramatically.

"You mean you took in a WOUNDED, HANDSOME STRANGER?!" Kyla clutched her chest. "This is a romance novel in the making!"

Kruger sighed, clearly regretting all of his life choices that led to this moment.

Leah smirked. "Okay, last question, Kruger. What do you think of Maeve?"

Maeve's hands froze mid-wash. Kruger, however, remained completely calm. He set his fork down, looking at Leah with his usual unreadable expression.

"She's been kind to me."

The girls stared, waiting for him to say more. Kruger didn't. Maeve exhaled in relief, glad that was over—

"SO YOU LIKE HER?!" Tiffany gasped.

He blinked. "That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant, right?" Leah grinned.

Maeve was this close to throwing the plate at them. "Leah, I swear—"

Leah raised her hands defensively. "Okay, okay, we'll stop! For now."

"I hate you all."

Tiffany patted her shoulder. "No, you don't. You love us. And we love this new chapter in your life."

"Yes. This is amazing. Maeve is finally letting a man into her house." Kyla wiped a fake tear. "I never thought I'd live to see this day."

"Are we done here?" Kruger asked, clearly exasperated.

"Fine, fine," Leah laughed. "But Maeve, you better tell us EVERYTHING later."

Maeve sighed, knowing she wasn't going to hear the end of this anytime soon.

--

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the landscape as Maeve's friends finally took their leave. Their laughter and chatter still echoed in her ears as she stood by the porch, watching them disappear down the road toward the main village. They had only intended to pass by, yet they managed to turn her morning chaotic. Maeve sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her life had been quiet, predictable, until Kruger came back.

As she turned to head inside, she noticed the large box her friends had left behind. It sat heavily on her wooden floor, filled with things they had brought back from Mitras. Maeve knelt beside it, lifting the lid with curiosity. The first thing she saw was a pile of books, some new, some secondhand but well cared for. She smiled, brushing her fingers over the covers. Her friends knew her well. Beneath the books were carefully folded clothes, ranging from simple blouses to beautifully embroidered skirts. She lifted one, the fabric soft against her fingertips. There were also small trinkets, a few bags of tea, and a wrapped-up pastry that Tiffany must have sneaked in.

She glanced at Kruger, who had been watching in mild amusement as she rummaged through the box.

"Your friends seem... energetic," he commented dryly.

Maeve sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear, I didn't know they were coming. Sorry for the ambush."

"It's fine. I don't mind."

"You sure? I mean, they practically interrogated you."

"They're harmless." His lips curled slightly. "A little loud, but harmless."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "That's one way to put it."

He crouched down beside her, briefly looking through the box. He picked up a book, flipping through its pages before losing interest and setting it aside. He did the same with the red scarf, holding it up before tossing it back in. Eventually, he stood with a small stretch.

"I'm heading out for a bit," he said.

Maeve nodded, watching as he stepped outside. She figured he needed space after the morning's chaos. For the next hour, she remained inside, carefully organizing the gifts her friends had brought. She folded the new clothes neatly, stacked the books in a corner for later, and put away the small trinkets. It wasn't until she was finished that she realized just how quiet it had gotten. Curious, she stepped outside, scanning the area for Kruger. Her eyes landed on him near the side of the house, and the moment they did, she froze.

He was shirtless. Again.

But this time, instead of just standing around half-dressed in the morning, he was training. Maeve swallowed, watching as he threw a punch at a makeshift training bag, a large sack of sand tied to a sturdy wooden post. His movements were precise, powerful. Each strike sent the bag swinging, the dull thud of his fists filling the air. His muscles tensed and flexed with every movement, his skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat under the fading sunlight.

Maeve's face heated up.

Oh no.

She wasn't prepared for this. Not at all.

Kruger had always been attractive, but right now? He was downright unfair. Her pulse quickened, and she found herself frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away. It wasn't just his body. It was the way he moved, the intensity in his eyes, the way he barely seemed winded despite the strength he was putting into every punch.

Then, as if sensing her, he stopped mid-swing and turned to look at her. Maeve nearly choked.

He raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

Yes, she wanted to say. You.

But instead, she quickly shook her head. "N-no! I just... um..."

She scrambled for an excuse. Think, Maeve, THINK!

"I-I just came to tell you I'm going to rest now! Yep! Going to sleep! Right now!" she blurted out, her voice an octave higher than usual.

He blinked, his expression neutral at first, but then his lips quirked up into a knowing smirk. "That so?"

"Y-yeah! So... goodnight!"

And before he could say another word, she spun around and bolted toward her room. She barely made it inside before slamming the door shut and pressing her back against it, her heart pounding.

What the hell was that?!

She covered her burning face with her hands, mortified. She had never reacted like that before, never felt this kind of flustered nervousness over anyone.

He barely glanced at her, his expression unreadable as he tossed some hay into the pen. "Yeah. I always do."

"Is that... normal?"

"It is for me," he replied smoothly.

Maeve opened her mouth, ready to press further, but something about the way he said it.. so dismissive, so absolute, that it made her pause. There was something about him that was still a mystery to her. In the following days, their interactions became more natural, more comfortable. Maeve had grown used to having Kruger around again, and this time, he was... different. Not in a drastic way, but in subtle things. He still wasn't the most talkative person, but he spoke more than he had before. He would ask her small things, how her day was going, what she planned to do with the farm next, if she ever thought about expanding. Sometimes, he'd share stories about the places he had traveled, though he was always careful not to say too much.

Maeve didn't mind. She found herself enjoying these quiet moments with him, the way they moved together as if they had been doing this for years, rather than just a couple of weeks. One evening, they sat outside on the porch, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the world bathed in soft golden light. Benok rested his head on Kruger's lap, and Maeve couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"You've won them over," she mused, nodding toward the dog.

Kruger raised a brow. "Who? The dogs?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. They don't warm up to just anyone."

He hummed, idly scratching Benok's fur. "Guess I'm special then."

Maeve rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. Maybe he was. A week passed, by now, Kruger was fully recovered. Maeve still insisted on checking his bandages, but he refused, saying he could do it himself. She didn't question it too much, figuring he just wasn't comfortable with her seeing his scars.

If only she knew there were no scars.

Their routine had fallen into place again, except this time, Maeve was happy. She liked having him around, she liked waking up to find him already making breakfast, liked the quiet moments they shared as they worked together, and she especially liked how he was different now, a little more open, more present. She hated to admit it, but she had grown used to this.

One afternoon, they sat at the dining table, eating lunch. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the wooden interior. The scent of freshly cooked stew still lingered in the air. Maeve was in the middle of saying something, she couldn't even remember what, when suddenly, the table beneath them let out a loud crack. 

Before either of them could react, the entire thing collapsed. Maeve gasped as the plates slid forward, the hot stew spilling all over the floor, and worse, all over her hands. A sharp burn seared through her skin.

"Shit—!" She flinched, immediately pulling her hands back. Before she could do anything else, Kruger was already in front of her.

"Let me see," he said, his voice firm yet careful.

She hesitated, but he gently took her hands into his own, examining the red, irritated skin. Maeve felt her breath hitch. His hands were warm, his grip firm but not rough. Her heart pounded in her chest as he guided her over to the sink, turning on the cold water. The moment the cool liquid rushed over her burn, she exhaled in relief.

Kruger stood close, too close.

She could feel the heat of him behind her, his presence almost overwhelming. Maeve dared to glance up at him. His expression was focused, his brows furrowed slightly as he made sure she was okay. And suddenly, she felt something shift inside her.

Something dangerous.

Her face warmed, her chest tightening with something unfamiliar yet unmistakable.

Oh.

Oh no.

Maeve swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away from him as she mentally cursed herself.

How could she let this happen?

She had promised herself she wouldn't get attached. But as he carefully wrapped her hand in a clean cloth, his touch lingering for just a second too long, she knew it was already too late.

The warmth of his fingers lingered on her skin, and Maeve felt her heart pound painfully in her chest. She had never been this close to him before. Sure, they had worked together on the farm, eaten together, shared conversations, but this was different. This was intimate.

"Does it still hurt?" Kruger's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Maeve forced herself to focus on his question instead of the way his fingertips brushed against the inside of her wrist.

"A little," she admitted, clearing her throat.

Be frowned slightly, adjusting the bandage with precise movements. "You should be more careful."

She let out a breathless chuckle, trying to lighten the weight in the air. "Yeah, I'll try not to let my table betray me next time."

His lips just barely twitched, but Maeve caught it. A ghost of a smile.

Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again. "You should rest your hand for the day."

"I can still work, you know."

Kruger didn't look convinced. "It's a burn, Maeve. You shouldn't push it."

She raised a brow. "And since when did you become the expert on injuries?"

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across his face, something dark. Maeve caught it instantly, her teasing expression faltering. He had been through things. She had always known that, but there was something in his eyes now, something heavy, something painful. It made her chest tighten. She wanted to ask him, wanted to press further, but she knew he wouldn't answer.

So instead, she let out a soft sigh and relented. "Fine. I'll take it easy."

He held her gaze for a second longer, as if searching for any signs of dishonesty. When he found none, he nodded and finally let go of her hand. Maeve immediately missed the warmth. She hated that she did.

Later that evening, as she sat on the couch, absentmindedly running her fingers through Benok's fur, she found herself thinking. Thinking about the way Kruger had looked at her. The way he had touched her hand, the way he had taken care of her so gently.

He wasn't a gentle man. Not really. He was rough around the edges, distant, closed off. And yet... He had looked at her differently today. Or maybe it was her who was looking at him differently. Maeve exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.

--

After last night's incident with the broken dining table and Maeve burning her hand in the process, she had no choice but to replace her furniture. She decided to get new chairs as well, as the ones she had were on the verge of collapsing. Kruger, as usual, didn't say much as they walked, but Maeve had grown used to his quiet presence. He carried most of the weight literally and figuratively, helping her lift the chairs and table onto the cart they had rented for transport.

"These should last you for a while," the carpenter said, wiping the sweat from his brow after securing the furniture.

"That's the plan," Maeve replied with a polite smile as she handed him the payment.

Just as she was about to find someone with a horse-drawn cart to help them transport everything back, a familiar voice called out her name.

"Lloyd?" she turned, watching as the blond man approached with his usual confident stride.

"Didn't expect to see you here today," Lloyd said, grinning before his eyes shifted to the furniture stacked on the cart. "What's all this?"

"Table broke last night, had to get a new one. Figured I might as well replace the chairs too before they fall apart on me." Maeve sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, that's a lot to carry. You got someone to take it back for you?"

"I was about to arrange something," she started, but before she could finish, Lloyd clapped a hand to his chest dramatically.

"No need! I've got my cart with me. I'll take you back, free of charge."

Maeve hesitated. Lloyd was being helpful, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be stuck in a cart with him for the entire ride home, especially not with Kruger there. Before she could decline, Lloyd's gaze shifted past her, finally taking note of the man standing beside her. Kruger hadn't said a word since Lloyd arrived, simply watching the exchange with his usual unreadable expression. His stance was relaxed, hands in his coat pockets, but Maeve could sense the tension in the way his jaw tightened slightly.

Lloyd's eyes flickered with curiosity. "And who's this?"

"This is Kruger. He's... been staying at my farm for a while."

Lloyd arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Didn't know you were taking in strays now."

Maeve frowned. "Lloyd."

Lloyd laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Kidding, kidding. Anyway, you two can ride with me. I was heading back to that side of the village anyway."

Maeve glanced at Kruger, who gave a slow nod. He didn't seem thrilled about the arrangement, but he wasn't protesting either.

"Alright, fine,"

Within minutes, the three of them were seated in the back of Lloyd's cart, the horses trotting steadily down the dirt road leading out of the village. Lloyd, as usual, filled the air with conversation, mostly about himself. He talked about his work, the village gossip, and how well his crops were doing this season.

Kruger—Eren, on the other hand, remained silent. His eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings every now and then, as if he was wary of something. Maeve wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling he wasn't just being cautious; he was hiding. Lloyd eventually took notice of Kruger's silence and turned his attention to him.

"So, Kruger, was it?" He nodded.

"Where you from?"

"Shiganshina."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "That's... pretty far. What brings you all the way out here?"

Kruger's fingers drummed against his knee once before he answered. "Just passing through."

Lloyd chuckled. "You've been passing through for a while now, haven't you?"

Kruger didn't respond immediately. He simply stared at Lloyd with an expression that made the other man shift uncomfortably.

Maeve quickly interjected before things got awkward. "Lloyd, I appreciate the ride, but can you not interrogate my guest?"

"Just making conversation, Maeve. No harm in that, right?"

Kruger still didn't say anything. Maeve sighed, shaking her head before wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. Her burned hand throbbed again, a reminder of last night's accident.

Kruger noticed immediately. His gaze dropped to her wrapped-up hand. "You alright?"

Maeve blinked, surprised at the concern in his voice. "Yeah, it just stings a little."

Lloyd, watching the exchange, frowned slightly. "Burn yourself or something?"

"Yeah, last night when the table broke."

"You should've told me," Lloyd said. "I would've come by to help."

Maeve waved him off. "It's nothing. I can handle it."

Kruger didn't say anything, but the way his eyes lingered on her bandaged hand told Maeve that he didn't fully believe her. For the rest of the ride, Lloyd kept the conversation light, probably realizing that prying into Kruger's past wasn't going to get him anywhere. Maeve, however, couldn't help but feel the strange tension between the two men. When they finally arrived at the farm, Maeve thanked Lloyd for the ride and helped unload the furniture.

Lloyd hesitated before climbing back onto his cart. "You sure you don't need anything else?"

Maeve shook her head. "I'm good, Lloyd. Thanks again."

He shot one last look at Kruger, then nodded. "Alright, see you around, Maeve. Call me if you need help."

As he rode off, Maeve turned to Kruger, who was watching Lloyd disappear down the road.

"You okay?" she asked.

He finally looked back at her. "Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes. "You sure? You looked like you wanted to throw him off the cart back there."

He exhaled sharply, almost like he was holding back a smirk. "Did I?"

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Let's just get the furniture inside."

"You don't have to worry," she said, her voice calm.

He didn't reply at first. Maeve glanced over her shoulder and, sure enough, saw the tension in his posture. His shoulders were rigid, his gaze fixed on the treeline beyond the fields. He looked as if he were expecting someone to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

"...You're sure?" he finally muttered. She turned back to the sink, grabbing another plate.

"My dogs would know," she said simply. "If someone was anywhere near my land, they'd bark loud enough to wake the whole farm."

His fingers twitched on the curtain. His lips pressed into a thin line, but some of the stiffness in his stance eased. She continued washing the dishes, giving him a moment to process her words. A few silent minutes passed, the only sounds being the water running and the occasional crackle of the fire. The weight of exhaustion still hung in the air, but now there was a fragile sort of calm settling over them.

"How have you been?"

Maeve paused. The question was unexpected, not because it was strange, but because he was the one who asked it. She turned slightly, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. He wasn't looking at her; he was still by the window, but his attention was no longer fixed outside. Instead, he was staring vaguely at the wooden frame, his expression unreadable. She hesitated for only a second before answering.

"I've been fine," she said, returning to her task. "Just doing the usual."

Of course, she wouldn't tell him that she had a tiny bit of a hard time adjusting to his absence. That she had felt a little more alone than usual. That she had caught herself looking at the couch, expecting to see him there, more times than she'd like to admit. He was quiet for a moment.

Then, she tilted her head slightly. "And you?"

Kruger exhaled through his nose, finally stepping away from the window. He moved slowly, his injuries still weighing on him, and sat down at the table. His fingers tapped lightly against the wood.

"I went to that village you told me about," he started, his voice low. "The one where Henry lives."

Maeve perked up slightly, turning to face him. "You did?"

He gave a small nod. "Stayed there for a couple of nights. Met Henry and... Tiffany."

Maeve blinked in mild surprise. "Oh—Tiffany mentioned you."

Kruger's head turned toward her, brow raising slightly. "She did?"

She nodded, drying her hands on a cloth. "She was over a couple of weeks ago with some friends. She said there was a tall, intimidating man who passed through her village. Henry was scared of you."

He let out a small huff through his nose. "Figures."

"So? What happened after that?" Maeve smiled faintly before sitting down across from him. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze lowering to the table.

"I kept walking," he said simply. "Went from village to village. People helped me. Some gave me food. Some let me stay the night." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I even learned a couple of things about farm work. Guess I'm getting good at it."

Maeve chuckled softly. "You'll be a farmer before you know it."

Kruger gave a small, amused scoff, shaking his head. "Doubt it." The brief moment of lightness faded as his expression darkened slightly.

"...I was fine," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "Until the police caught up."

Maeve stiffened slightly, she had almost forgotten about that part. He didn't give her much time to dwell on it before continuing.

"I lost the bag you gave me," he admitted. His fingers curled into his palm. "Didn't even realize it until I was already running. I fought some of them off, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Doesn't matter. I got away."

"You fought them?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he simply nodded. Maeve's fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress. She didn't know the full details. She didn't know what kind of fight it had been, or how badly it had gone.

"Kruger..." she hesitated before sighing, her voice softer. "I'm sorry."

He blinked.

"For what?"

"For... everything," she said simply. "For what you've been through."

Kruger stared at her for a moment. Then, as if uncomfortable with the weight of her sympathy, he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

"...It's fine," he muttered. Maeve smiled faintly.

He didn't know how to handle kindness, did he? She didn't push him further, simply giving him the space to sit with his own thoughts. A quiet moment passed between them. Then, after a while, Eren shifted slightly in his chair.

"I should rest," he muttered, standing up.

Maeve nodded, standing as well. "Of course."

He turned toward the couch, but before he could take more than a step, he hesitated. He turned his head slightly, as if debating something.

Then, without fully looking at her, he mumbled, "Thanks."

Kruger's lips parted slightly, but he seemed to struggle with the words. Eventually, he just exhaled sharply and shook his head.

"For everything," he muttered. Maeve softened. She didn't press him for more.

"Goodnight, Kruger," she said simply.

He hesitated again before muttering, "...Goodnight, Maeve."

And with that, the tension in the air settled. The awkwardness lingered, but she let it be. For now, she was just glad he was here.

--

The morning light filtered through the wooden shutters, casting a golden hue over the small farmhouse. Maeve stirred in bed, the comfort of warmth making her hesitant to rise. She was used to being the first one up, to starting the day before the world fully woke, but today was different. There was a smell drifting through the air.She frowned slightly, her sleep-heavy mind taking a moment to register what it was. The scent of something rich and warm.. eggs, maybe? And something else, something freshly baked. She blinked, rubbing her eyes before finally pushing herself out of bed. She hurried downstairs, her feet light against the wooden steps.

In the kitchen, Kruger stood by the stove, moving with a quiet precision as he placed a freshly cooked egg onto a plate. He was already dressed, his sleeves rolled up as he focused on his task. The sight of him, standing there so naturally in her kitchen, was so unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.

She didn't even realize she was staring. It wasn't until he turned his head slightly, his deep voice breaking the silence, that she snapped out of it.

"Maeve?"

Her entire body stiffened. She felt like a fool, standing there like some sort of creep, watching him cook as if he were some strange phenomenon. Clearing her throat, she quickly composed herself, stepping further into the kitchen.

"You're... up early," she said, attempting to sound casual.

He huffed, placing another plate onto the table. "Not that early."

Maeve moved beside him, grabbing a knife to start slicing the bread he had taken out of the oven. "Still. I usually wake up before anyone else."

He glanced at her. "Guess I ruined your routine."

"Not necessarily." She gave a small smile.

Together, they finished preparing breakfast, moving around each other with a surprising ease. Maeve was still getting used to having someone here again, but it didn't feel bad. If anything, she felt... lighter. After breakfast, they tended to the animals as usual. The sun had fully risen by now, and Maeve found herself enjoying the familiar rhythm of the morning. But there was a difference this time—something subtle yet noticeable.

Her routine is about to change. Again. And unlike before, she realized she liked it. As they worked, he shared bits and pieces of his time in Henry's village.

"Henry's a terrible liar," Kruger muttered as he leaned against the wooden fence, watching the sheep.

Maeve snorted. "Oh, he is."

"He tried to act tough the first time I met him," he continued. "But I could see his hands shaking."

She laughed. "That sounds about right. He's got a big mouth but can't back it up. One time, he challenged someone to a drinking contest and ended up passed out before the first round even ended."

He smirked slightly at that. "Figures."

They shared a few more stories, some funny, some ridiculous. Maeve realized that a lot of the things Kruger had experienced in Henry's village were things she had been through herself. It was strange, hearing his perspective on a place that had been so familiar to her for years. As they continued tending to the animals, Kruger's eyes wandered to the newly repaired shed where Betty and Benok usually stayed.

"The roof's fixed."

Maeve glanced at it. "Yeah, finally."

"Did you fix it yourself?"

She shook her head. "A friend of mine did."

His expression shifted slightly, as if that surprised him. "You have friends out here?"

Maeve chuckled. "Of course I do. I may live far from the main village, but I'm not a complete hermit."

He hummed, his gaze flickering back to the shed. "Did he charge you for it?"

"No," she replied simply.

"Why?"

Maeve shrugged. "He just wanted to help."

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment before nodding slowly. She turned back to the sheep, patting one on the head before dusting her hands off.

"Speaking of the village, I need to head there today to restock some things. You want to come?"

He hesitated for only a second before giving a small nod. "Sure."

The walk to the village was short, it was only about ten minutes but the landscape was beautiful. The air was fresh, the sun warm but not too hot. Maeve led the way, her boots crunching against the damp dirt path. Kruger walked beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of the coat he was wearing. The hood was up, casting a shadow over his face.

Maeve glanced at him curiously but didn't say anything. It wasn't until they arrived in the bustling village square that she noticed how tense he had become. His eyes darted subtly around, scanning the area as if expecting danger. She frowned but chose to let it go. Instead, she focused on her task, weaving through the crowd to buy the ingredients she needed. Kruger stayed close, his presence solid beside her. As she finished picking out some vegetables, a familiar voice called her name.

"Maeve?"

She turned, her face immediately brightening at the sight of an elderly woman approaching her.

"Gloria!" Maeve smiled, hurrying forward to embrace her.

The old woman chuckled, squeezing her tightly before pulling back. "It's been too long, my dear."

"It has. How are you?"

Gloria waved a hand. "Oh, you know, the usual aches and pains. But I manage." Then, her gaze shifted to Kruger, who had remained quiet beside Maeve.

"And who is this?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. Maeve felt heat rush to her cheeks. Gloria had always been nosy, and she knew what this must have looked like.

"He's—"

"Kruger," He introduced himself smoothly, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

Gloria's sharp eyes studied him for a moment before she smiled knowingly. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Kruger."

Maeve could feel the teasing glint in Gloria's expression, but thankfully, she didn't say anything more. They chatted for a little longer, catching up on small things before finally parting ways. They then continued their errands.

As they walked back home, Kruger glanced at Maeve. "She seemed important to you."

Maeve smiled softly. "She is."

She adjusted the basket in her arms before continuing. "When I was younger, my mother and I didn't have anywhere to go. After my father died, Gloria took us in. She cared for us, gave us a home when we had nothing."

He was quiet as he listened.

Maeve exhaled, glancing up at the sky. "It's been a few years since I started living on my own, but I'll always be grateful for what she did for us."

Another moment of silence passed between them.

"...She cares about you a lot," he murmured.

Maeve glanced at him. His face was partially obscured by the shadow of his hood, but his eyes were focused straight ahead. Something about the way he said it made her chest feel strangely warm.

A sharp, ragged exhale, a deep groan, barely restrained, the sound of restless shifting. She sat up immediately, her heart jumping in her chest. Her eyes found Kruger. He was still lying on the couch, but his body was tense now, his face contorted in pain. His hands gripped the blankets, his jaw clenched as if trying to fight through whatever agony he was in.

By the couch, Betty and Benok whined softly, their ears pinned back in distress as they nudged at him. Maeve didn't waste another second as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the stiffness in her legs, and hurried to her cabinets. She grabbed the small bottle of painkillers she had stored away and poured a pill into her palm. Rushing back, she knelt beside the couch.

"Kruger," she said firmly. "Can you hear me?"

Kruger let out another pained grunt, his eyelids twitching but not opening.

She didn't hesitate. She placed the pill to his lips. "Here, take this."

With a frown, she grabbed the cup of water from the table, tilting it to his lips. "Come on, drink."

He stirred weakly, his lips parting just enough. She placed the pill in his mouth and carefully tipped the cup, letting the water help him swallow. He coughed slightly but managed to take it down.

Maeve sighed in relief, she placed the cup back and sat there for a moment, watching as his body slowly relaxed, the painkillers beginning to take effect. His face lost some of its tension, and his breathing steadied again. A few more moments passed, and then he was out cold. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as she stared at him, frustration welling in her chest.

"What the hell happened to you?"

It had been two months since he left. She had forced herself to move on from wondering where he was, if he was okay. And now, he had just appeared on her doorstep again, bloody, beaten, running from something. She bit her lip, shaking her head, she would get answers later. For now, she had a farm to tend to.

By mid-morning, the sun had fully returned, casting warm, golden light over the damp fields. The rain from the past few days had left everything drenched, but Maeve welcomed the sunlight. She ushered Betty and Benok outside, letting them run freely again after being cooped up during the storm. They hesitated by the door, glancing back at the couch where Kruger lay, but Maeve gave them a reassuring pat before sending them off. Breakfast was simple. just eggs, bread, and fresh milk. She kept glancing at him, expecting him to stir, but he remained still. His body needed rest, she reminded herself. Let him sleep. After finishing her own meal, she headed outside to tend to the animals.

It was almost strange, falling back into her usual routine. Feeding the cattle, checking on the sheep, gathering eggs from the chickens, everything was just as it had been before Kruger ever arrived. But somehow, it felt... different.

Her thoughts were restless, lingering on the man currently unconscious in her home. By the time afternoon arrived, she returned to the house expecting to find him awake, but when she stepped inside, he was still asleep. She sighed, shaking her head. The painkillers must have knocked him out harder than expected.

"At least you're resting," she murmured under her breath.

Not wanting to disturb him, she busied herself with housework, sweeping the floors, fixing the blankets on the couch, preparing more firewood for the evening. She found herself stealing glances at him now and then, wondering what was going through his mind even in sleep.

It wasn't until dinner that he finally woke up. Maeve was at the stove when she heard him shift. She turned, watching as his fingers twitched, his head moving slightly before his eyes slowly blinked open. At first, he looked disoriented. Then, his gaze locked onto her. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and he let out a slow breath. Maeve felt relief wash over her. Without a word, she turned back to the stove, finishing up the food. Within minutes, she set a plate in front of him.

"Eat."

Kruger didn't argue, he sat up slowly, wincing slightly, and picked up the utensils. The room was silent as he ate, the only sounds being the occasional clinking of the fork against the plate. Maeve didn't mind the silence, but she knew he was going to say something, and she was right.

Once he finished, he set his utensils down and exhaled.

"...I'm sorry."

Maeve blinked, startled. "For what?"

"For barging in like that." His voice was low, tired. "For collapsing at your door. I didn't mean to come back here."

She frowned. "...Then why did you?"

He was silent for a moment.

"I was being chased," he admitted. "The police have been after me for the past few days."

Her stomach twisted.

"...Why?"

"They think I'm a criminal," he said simply.

Maeve felt her heart pound in her chest. For a brief second, doubt crept into her mind. She had assumed he wasn't dangerous, but now? Hearing this?

"...Are you?" she asked, her voice quieter. His jaw tightened.

"No."

She searched his face, looking for any signs of deception. She found none.

"...Alright," she said softly. He exhaled.

"I was just running," he continued. "I didn't have anywhere to go. I wasn't thinking. I just... ended up here."

There was something heavy in his tone, something almost guilty. Maeve gripped the edge of the table.

"You're not leaving," she said firmly. Eren's gaze snapped to hers.

"What?"

"You're injured," she said. "You can barely move without wincing. You need rest."

"I've rested enough," he muttered, standing up. "I'm leaving in the morning."

Maeve's frustration flared.

"You just got back," she argued. "And you're still hurt—"

"I don't want to cause trouble for you," he snapped. This caused her to flinch, Kruger exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Guilt flickered in his expression. Maeve swallowed, pushing aside her initial shock.

"...I don't care if it's trouble," she said, her voice softer now. "You just showed up, bleeding, half-dead, and you expect me to just let you go?"

He was silent.

"You need to rest," she continued. "I don't care if you think it's an inconvenience. I want you to stay."

He clenched his jaw, his frustration clear but she could also see the hesitation in his eyes. He didn't want to get attached. He didn't want to accept kindness. However, Maeve wasn't going to let him be stubborn.

She crossed her arms. "You're staying."

He exhaled through his nose, staring at her for a long moment.

"...Fine."

Maeve let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Eren looked away, his expression unreadable.

"...Just until I can move properly," he muttered.

Maeve hid a small smile. "We'll see about that," she said lightly.

Then, when she returned home at the end of the day, she would glance at the couch out of habit, only to be met with an empty space where someone had once slept. Her dogs seemed to notice, too. Every evening, Betty and Benok sat on the porch, their ears perked up, eyes scanning the road. As if they are waiting for someone, but no one came. Maeve tried to push the feeling away.

"I'm just lonely," she told herself. It had only been a few days. Soon enough, she would forget about him.

A month later, she had settled back into her normal life. Sometimes, she still caught herself wondering where Kruger was, if he had found shelter, if he had enough food. but she no longer waited for an answer. Today, she was expecting visitors, so she spent the morning making sure the house was spotless.

At noon, her friends arrived. Leah, Kyla, and Tiffany. Three women from the nearby villages, who often visited when they had the time. The house was soon filled with laughter and chatter as they settled in, talking about anything and everything. Maeve sat with them, listening as they gossiped about men, relationships, and village rumors. She wasn't particularly interested in the conversation, but she let them talk, content to just have company. That was, until—

"You won't believe what happened in my village a few weeks ago," Tiffany said suddenly, leaning in. Maeve wasn't paying much attention until she heard the next words.

"A man passed through," Tiffany continued, lowering her voice. "Tall, broad-shouldered, long hair—he looked so familiar, and he was terrifying."

Maeve blinked. Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.

"Henry was the one who let him stay for a couple of days. Poor guy nearly pissed himself—he said the man barely spoke, just sat there brooding the whole time. But they gave him food, and then he left."

Maeve felt her heartbeat quicken. "Wait— What did he look like?"

Tiffany glanced at her, surprised by her sudden interest.

"I told you—tall, long dark hair, sharp eyes. Intimidating as hell." She paused. "Why? You know him?"

"...Maybe."

Leah and Kyla perked up, looking between them with curiosity.

"You?" Kyla teased. "Asking about a man? Now this is interesting."

Leah grinned. "Do tell, Maeve."

"It's nothing. He—he stayed here for a few days when the storm hit. That's all." The girls exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

"That is romantic!" Leah exclaimed.

"It's not."

"But you let him stay," Kyla pointed out, wiggling her eyebrows. "Did he sleep in your room?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not—" Maeve stopped herself, shaking her head.

This was pointless. She let them have their fun, brushing off their teasing as they continued their conversation, but even after the laughter had died down, even after her friends stayed the night and eventually left the next day. The name still lingered in her mind.

Kruger.

--

Lloyd was a childhood friend.

He had grown up in the same village as her, always hanging around, always looking for an excuse to talk to her. It was no secret that he had feelings for her, everyone in the village knew. She had turned him down every single time, but still, he kept coming back. So when he arrived at her farm with his sleeves rolled up and a confident grin on his face, announcing that he was here to finally fix the shed roof for free, Maeve sighed and let him do it. She had been meaning to fix it herself, but she had been too busy and a small part of her had been reluctant. Because if she had fixed it earlier, maybe she could have used it as an excuse to make Kruger stay longer.

She hated that she still thought that way. As Lloyd worked, hammering nails into the wooden beams, he started talking.

"So, Maeve," he began, glancing at her from the rooftop, "any suitors yet?"

She rolled her eyes, tossing some feed to the chickens. "No, Lloyd."

"No surprise there. You never give anyone a chance." She ignored him.

"Must get lonely out here," he continued. "No husband, no family. Just you and the animals. Doesn't it bother you?"

Maeve frowned. She didn't like this conversation. Not just because Lloyd had asked her the same thing a dozen times before, but because, for the first time, she couldn't answer with certainty. She had been alone all her life and nd it had never bothered her before. But now? Now she wasn't sure. She focused on her work, hoping he would drop it.

"Y'know," Lloyd said, still hammering away, "people talk about you. Wondering why you never settled down. Some think you're just too picky and too tough, that you don't know how to have fun. Others think maybe you're waiting for someone." Maeve clenched her jaw.

"Maybe someone already stayed here, huh?" Lloyd continued, half-joking. "Someone we don't know about?"

She stiffened. Her silence must have given her away because Lloyd suddenly stopped working.

He turned to look at her, brow raised. "Wait... did someone stay here?"

She forced herself to look unbothered. "It was nothing."

"Who was it?"

"None of your business, Lloyd."

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. You let some random man stay here, but not me?"

"Lloyd." Her voice was sharp now.

He held his hands up in surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright. I'll drop it."

She exhaled slowly, turning back to her work. By the time Lloyd finished, the sun was starting to set.

"All done," he said, dusting off his hands. "Your dogs will stay dry now."

Maeve looked at the newly repaired roof and felt relief, not just because it was finally fixed, but because she didn't have to keep feeling like she had left something undone.

She gave Lloyd a small nod. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, Maeve."

She didn't respond. After he left, she went inside, shutting the door behind her.

That night, as she lay in bed, the rain started to fall again. Soft at first, then heavier. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the steady drumming of water against the roof. Maeve had almost convinced herself that she was fine. She had visitors every now and then, her farm work kept her busy, and she had her dogs for company. The ache of loneliness had dulled into something she could ignore, something she could push aside whenever it crept in.

But sometimes, when it rained, she would find herself staring at the window, watching the droplets streak down the glass, and she would think of him. She wondered where he was. If he was still alive. If he had found shelter in another place like hers, with another person like her. If he even remembered her at all.

She shook the thoughts away every time. It doesn't matter.

--

BANG.

Maeve shot up, heart pounding. Another loud bang—this time, on her door.

The dogs barked furiously downstairs, the noise cutting through the storm. Maeve grabbed the knife from her nightstand and moved quickly, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor. Her pulse was racing. She had lived far from the village for years yet no one ever came this late at night.

Who the hell would be knocking at this hour?

The knocking grew more frantic. She reached the door, tightening her grip on the knife. Another bang. Her breath caught in her throat. She braced herself, then swung the door open— And lashed out with the knife. But before the blade could land, a hand caught her wrist, stopping her mid-swing. Her eyes widened. A man stood in the doorway, drenched from the rain, his long dark hair clinging to his face. His clothes were soaked, his breathing ragged. Her gaze traveled downward, and her stomach twisted.

Blood.

It dripped down his arms, staining the porch, mixing with the rainwater pooling at his feet.

"Kruger—"

His grip loosened. His lips parted as if to say something, but before he could, his body swayed. Maeve barely had time to react before he collapsed against her, his full weight knocking the air from her lungs. She staggered back, struggling to hold him up. His breath was shallow, his body limp. Panic surged through her.

"Kruger—hey—stay with me—"

But he didn't respond. Maeve gritted her teeth, tightening her hold on him, and with all the strength she had, she pulled him inside, her feet stumbling slightly as his weight pressed against her. He was barely conscious, his body sagging against her as she dragged him through the threshold, the rain from outside dripping onto the wooden floor.

Betty and Benok were barking loudly, their ears pinned back, circling around her in distress. Maeve ignored them, her breath coming out in sharp, panicked bursts as she maneuvered Kruger towards the couch. With one final push, she laid him down, his body slumping against the worn-out cushions. The sight before her made her stomach churn. Blood soaked through his clothes, smearing against the fabric of her couch. His arms and torso were littered with cuts, bruises, and deep gashes, some of them fresh, others older but reopened. His knuckles were torn raw, as if he had been in a fight.

And most unsettling of all—

His wounds were steaming.

Maeve's breath hitched. For a brief second, she simply stared, watching as the bloodied gashes seemed to smolder, heat rising from them in wisps. The edges of his wounds twitched and shifted, like they were closing faster than any normal wound should. Her mind screamed at her that something wasn't right, that this wasn't normal. But right now, she didn't care.

Right now, he was here. After two months of silence. After convincing herself she would never see him again. And yet, instead of standing in the doorway like he had before, this time, he had come back barely holding onto his life. Something about that made her angry. She clenched her fists but quickly shook the feeling away. This wasn't the time, for now he needed help.

She fetched her medical supplies, placing them beside her before kneeling down next to him. The fire from the hearth crackled, casting warm light over his battered form, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. Her hands trembled slightly as she cut away his soaked, torn shirt, revealing more wounds underneath. His body was covered in old scars, deep ones that told stories she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She bit her lip and got to work. She cleaned his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood, ignoring how the steam still rose faintly from his skin. She pressed cloth against the worst of the gashes, staunching the bleeding before wrapping them carefully with fresh bandages. The entire time, Kruger barely moved. His breathing was slow but steady, his brows slightly furrowed even in unconsciousness. When she finally finished, she sat back with a heavy sigh, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She hadn't realized how much time had passed until she looked at the window—rain still fell heavily outside, the wind howling against the house. She exhaled slowly, her heart still racing.

He was back, but he's bruised, bleeding, and looked like he was running from something she didn't get a glimpse of outside in the dark. Maeve clenched her hands into fists.

"What the hell happened to you, Kruger?"

She stood up, ready to clean up the bloodied cloths, but before she could move, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist. Maeve gasped, turning sharply. Kruger's eyes were barely open. A haze of exhaustion lingered in them, but his grip was firm. His fingers curled around her wrist, his skin still warm from the fever running through him.

"...Stay."

His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but it made something tighten in Maeve's chest. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should pull away. If she should ask him why he was really here. If she should demand answers. Instead, she slowly lowered herself back down, sitting beside him.

"...Alright,"

His grip loosened, his breathing slow and uneven, but he didn't let go, the tension in his body eased. A few minutes passed in silence. The fire crackled. The storm raged outside. Maeve glanced at him. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the firelight—his features sharp yet exhausted, his jaw tense even in rest. His damp hair framed his face, strands clinging to his forehead.

He looked... different from before.

Not just because of the bruises and injuries. He didn't look like the cold, distant man she had met months ago. He looked tired. Hunted. A ghost of himself. She hesitated before breaking the silence.

"...What happened?" she finally asked, keeping her voice gentle.

Kruger didn't respond at first. For a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep—until he shifted slightly, his eyes flickering open again.

"...I was being chased." Maeve's breath caught.

She tensed. "...By who?"

"The police."

Her heart stopped. The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

The police?

Her first thought was that he was a criminal. That maybe she had been harboring a fugitive all along. That maybe she had let someone dangerous stay in her home, sleep on her couch, and eat at her table. But if that were true, wouldn't she be dead by now? Wouldn't he have killed her the first chance he got? She swallowed hard, her mind reeling.

"...Why?" she asked softly. "Why are they chasing you?"

Silence.

His face was unreadable, his eyes shadowed, his expression distant. Maeve could see it, the walls going up again, shutting her out just like before. He wasn't going to tell her. She exhaled, feeling a dull ache settle in her chest. But surprisingly, she didn't care. Criminal or not, she was just happy he was back.

She let out a slow breath. "...Fine. Don't tell me."

Kruger's gaze flickered toward her.

She forced a small, tired smile. "Just get some rest."

She felt his grip on her wrist loosen as his exhaustion finally won. His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened out. Maeve stayed where she was, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, watching how his face relaxed now that he was asleep. For some reason, she didn't want to leave him alone. Instead, she leaned against the couch, her head resting on the edge of the cushion, still watching him as the firelight flickered softly across his features. Her eyelids grew heavy and just before sleep claimed her, a thought whispered in her mind—

But through it all, she and Kruger had made do. When it became clear that the living room was too damp to sleep in, Maeve had reluctantly let him stay in her room. She had offered him the bed, but he refused without a second thought, settling on the floor with nothing but a pillow and a blanket. Their routine had remained the same. Each morning, she would wake up to make breakfast. Before she could finish, Kruger would join her, wordlessly helping with the cooking. They would tend to the farm together, working side by side as the rain continued to drizzle.

Maeve would make small talk, asking about the places he had been, what he liked to eat, whether or not he had ever worked on a farm before. And he would answer with short, clipped sentences, but never outright dismissive. But then, sometimes, she would accidentally ask something too personal, and that was when he would stop. His voice would shift, turning flat and distant, a tone she had learned to recognize. That was when she would know to stop talking.

During their free time, she began to notice something about him. Sometimes, he would just sit in silence, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought. His expression would darken, his brows pulling together as if he was somewhere else, somewhere painful. Other times, he would crouch down and play with her dogs. Betty would roll onto her back, waiting for a belly rub, and Kruger (without thinking) would reach out and give her one, his calloused fingers gentle against her fur. Benok would nudge at his hands, demanding attention, and Kruger would scratch behind his ears, watching as the black Labrador wagged his tail happily.

Maeve noticed that, during those moments, his solemn expression would soften just a little. It was strange how easily the dogs had taken to him, how easily she had gotten used to him, and that was why when he finally told her he was leaving, she felt her stomach drop. That night, the kitchen smelled of roasted vegetables and fresh bread. Maeve was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of stew, when Kruger spoke.

"I'll leave tomorrow morning."

Her hand stilled. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the simmering broth, watching the bubbles rise and pop on the surface. She had known this was coming. Of course, she had. He wasn't planning on staying forever. He wasn't hers to keep.

"Alright."

Kruger watched her. She wasn't being honest. He could tell. But he didn't comment on it. Their dinner was the same as usual, quiet, steady, routine. But there was something underneath it, something unspoken lingering in the space between them. Neither of them acknowledged it.

The next morning, Kruger woke up to the scent of breakfast. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, his body sore from sleeping on the floor. The sound of sizzling eggs and clinking plates filled the air. He pushed himself up and walked to the kitchen, where Maeve was cooking, only this time, there was more food than usual. She glanced at him, then motioned toward the small table, where a bundle of food was neatly wrapped in cloth.

"I made enough to last you three days, you'll need it if you're traveling."

Kruger stared at the bundle, then back at her. "...You didn't have to."

"I know."

She turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs onto a plate before grabbing a bowl of stew and setting it in front of him.

"There's another farm not too far from here," she continued. "About half a day's walk east. A man named Henry lives there, he's a good person. If you tell him my name and that I sent you, he'll let you stay the night, maybe even give you some work if you need it."

Kruger listened quietly, his expression unreadable.

"You're awfully willing to help a stranger," he muttered. Maeve paused, then sighed.

"I don't know what you've been through," she said. "And I won't ask." She looked at him then, her eyes steady.

"But I can tell you don't have anywhere to go, and no one deserves to be completely alone."

Kruger's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table. He didn't deserve this kindness. Not after everything he had done. Not after all the lives he had taken.

"...Thank you," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Maeve just nodded. "Eat before it gets cold."

By the time noon rolled around, the rain had lightened to a soft drizzle. Kruger stood by the door, dressed in a fresh set of clothes Maeve had given him a plain linen shirt and a sturdy coat. A backpack was slung over his shoulder, filled with the food she had prepared and an extra set of clothes. She stood beside him, her arms crossed as she watched the road ahead.

"You sure you don't want to wait until the rain stops completely?" she asked.

"I should leave now." There was a long pause. Then, finally, Maeve exhaled.

"Take care of yourself, Kruger."

Kruger glanced at her, then nodded. "You too."

The sound of soft whimpers made them both look down. Betty and Benok were at their feet, their ears flat, tails low. Benok nudged at Kruger's leg, whining, while Betty pawed at his coat as if trying to stop him from leaving. Maeve blinked in surprise.

"They know," she murmured. "They can tell you're leaving."

Kruger looked down at the dogs. He didn't say anything. Instead, he crouched down and placed a hand on each of their heads, rubbing their fur one last time. They leaned into his touch, their tails thumping weakly against the wooden floor. Then, slowly, he stood. Without another word, he stepped out onto the path, the damp earth crunching beneath his boots. Maeve watched as he walked away, his figure growing smaller and smaller against the misty horizon.

He didn't look back.

She didn't call out to stop him.

A quiet presence near the doorway made her glance up. Kruger stood there, his posture relaxed but his gaze slightly distant. He hadn't spoken much since they finished tending to the animals, but he had helped carry in the eggs and fresh vegetables without needing to be asked.

"Smells good," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of thunder.

"Hope you're not expecting another feast like breakfast."

"I'll take what I can get," he replied, his tone neutral, but she could tell he meant it.

She stirred the pot once more before setting the wooden spoon aside. "Should be ready soon. Might want to—"

A sudden crack of thunder interrupted her, followed by the sound of heavy raindrops hitting the roof. Within seconds, the rain turned into a downpour, hammering against the house with relentless force. Maeve frowned, stepping closer to the window to get a better look outside. The fields were already turning into a misty blur, and the dirt paths quickly became thick with mud.

She turned back to Kruger, who was watching the rain in silence.

"You should stay until the storm passes," she said without hesitation. He didn't respond immediately. His hands clenched slightly at his sides, as if weighing the idea.

"I don't want to impose."

"You helped me this morning, so I'd say you earned at least one more meal. Besides," she added, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "I'm not going to throw you out into this."

Kruger exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. "...Alright."

She turned back to the stove, but before she could grab the bowls, a sudden loud bang echoed from outside. Kruger reacted instantly. Before she could process what was happening, he was already moving.

"Wait—!" she called, but he was already at the door, shoving it open despite the pouring rain.

Maeve hurried after him, stopping just beneath the doorway as the cold wind and rain lashed against her face. Through the downpour, she saw him sprinting toward the animal sheds.

Her heart clenched. What is he doing?

She squinted, trying to see through the storm. Then she saw it, one of the sheds, the one where Betty and Benok usually stayed, had partially collapsed. The wooden roof had caved in, leaving broken planks scattered across the ground. Underneath another smaller shed, the two farm dogs huddled together, whimpering as the rain drenched them. Kruger skidded to a stop in front of them, barely hesitating before kneeling down. He didn't even care that he was getting soaked, his focus was entirely on the dogs.

"Come on, inside."

Betty hesitated, ears flat, but Benok slowly crept forward. Kruger reached out, placing a hand on the black Labrador's head before motioning again.

Maeve clenched her fists. Idiot.

Ignoring the rain, she ran back inside and grabbed a stack of towels, her heart pounding. When the door swung open again, Kruger stepped inside, drenched from head to toe. Betty and Benok were at his heels, shaking the water from their fur. Maeve barely registered the mess, her gaze immediately snapped to Kruger. His cloak was soaked through, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping from the tips. He looked like a mess.

"You—!" she started, but then sighed, shaking her head. No use scolding him now. Instead, she shoved a towel into his hands.

"Dry off," she ordered before crouching down beside the dogs.

She wrapped another towel around Betty, rubbing her fur briskly to get the water out. Benok whined softly as Kruger took a towel and started drying him off, his movements a little awkward but surprisingly gentle. They worked in silence, focused on the dogs rather than each other.

Once Benok was mostly dry, Kruger set the towel aside, shaking out his wet sleeves. Maeve hesitated before standing, grabbing another towel, and stepping toward him. He looked up, slightly confused.

"Your hair," she said simply, holding up the towel. Kruger tensed as if the thought of someone else touching him was unfamiliar.

"I can do it myself," he muttered.

"Yeah, and you'll just make it worse. Just hold still."

He exhaled through his nose but didn't protest further. She carefully ran the towel through his hair, drying the soaked strands as best she could. It was surprisingly soft, despite how unruly it looked when dry. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the rain outside and the occasional shifting of the dogs. Maeve focused on her task, but she was acutely aware of how close she was to him, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, the slight rise and fall of his breath. When she finally pulled away, she quickly tossed the towel aside.

"Done," she said, trying to sound casual.

Kruger didn't say anything, but she noticed the way his fingers flexed slightly, as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The air between them felt strangely heavy. Maeve turned away first.

"You should change," she said, motioning toward the dry clothes she had already set aside. "They belonged to my father. Should fit you well enough."

Kruger nodded, picking up the clothes without a word before disappearing into the other room.

Maeve let out a slow breath. What was that?

—

Dinner was quiet. The rain continued outside, a steady rhythm against the windows. They ate in near silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words.

"You always eat this quiet?" Maeve finally asked, breaking the stillness.

"I don't talk much."

Maeve snorted. "No kidding."

He didn't react, just continued eating. She sighed, tapping her fingers against the table. The awkwardness from earlier hadn't completely faded.

She glanced at him again. For someone carrying so much weight, he looked oddly at ease here. Maybe just for tonight. After finishing, they both turned in for the night. Kruger settled back on the couch, wrapped in the blankets she had given him. Maeve lingered near the stairs, hesitating before speaking.

"...Good night, Kruger."

He was quiet for a moment before murmuring, "Good night, Maeve."

She swallowed, then nodded before heading upstairs.

--

The rhythmic drumming of rain against the roof was the first thing Maeve noticed as she stirred awake. The storm hadn't passed, it was still going strong. A cold breeze seeped through the cracks of the old house, making her pull the blanket tighter around herself before she finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sighed, glancing out the window. The sky was a dull gray, thick with heavy clouds. It seemed like today would be another long, wet day. With a stretch, she got out of bed and made her way downstairs, her bare feet padding against the wooden floor. The scent of damp earth lingered in the air, mixed with the faint remnants of last night's stew.

As she stepped into the living room, she froze. There, curled up on the couch, was Kruger, still asleep. But what caught her off guard was the sight of Betty and Benok nestled up beside him. Her two dogs, the same ones who barely gave strangers the time of day, were sleeping soundly next to him. Benok's large head rested against Kruger's leg, while Betty had curled up near his feet. Their bodies rose and fell with peaceful breaths, the occasional twitch of an ear the only sign that they were awake enough to sense her presence.

Unfair.

The last time the dogs had curled up next to her like that had been years ago. Now, here was this stranger, this quiet, mysterious man, who had somehow won them over in just a day. She huffed softly to herself, shaking her head before stepping into the kitchen. If she thought about it too much, she'd get annoyed. Instead, she focused on breakfast.

The sound of clinking dishes must have woken him, because a few minutes later, she heard the couch creak. When she turned, Kruger was sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was a mess, still slightly damp from the night before, and his usual sharp expression was softened by grogginess. Maeve had to admit, he was unfairly good-looking, especially in the golden glow of the morning light.

He blinked, looking at her. "Morning."

"Morning, hungry?"

He nodded, pushing himself up. "I'll help."

"You don't have to—"

But he was already walking over, rolling up his sleeves. Maeve sighed, deciding not to argue. If he wanted to help, fine. They worked side by side, the soft crackling of the fire and the steady patter of rain filling the silence between them. At some point, Kruger took over flipping the eggs while Maeve prepared the bread and butter.

"You cook?"

"A little," he replied simply.

"You don't seem like the type."

He didn't answer right away. Then, quietly, he said, "I had to learn."

She paused for a beat, then nodded. "I get that."

They finished breakfast soon after, eating in comfortable silence. Despite the rain, the animals still needed to be taken care of. Maeve grabbed a thick coat and handed Kruger another.

"Come on," she said. "We can't let them starve."

The rain had softened the ground, turning it into thick mud. The farm felt even quieter than usual, with most of the animals huddling together for warmth. Maeve worked on feeding the sheep first, making sure each one got their fair share of food. Kruger was helping near the cattle when a sudden movement caught her attention.

Daisy (the bossy one) had decided she wanted more food. She let out a loud bleat before charging forward, straight toward Maeve.

"Wait, Daisy—!"

Before Maeve could react, the sheep barreled into her side, knocking her off balance. She stumbled backwards, and collided into something solid. Strong hands caught her just before she hit the muddy ground. For a moment, everything was still. Maeve looked up, her breath caught in her throat. Kruger had one arm firmly around her waist, the other gripping her shoulder to keep her steady. His face was inches from hers, drops of rain clinging to his dark lashes. His usual cool expression faltered slightly, his lips parted as if he wasn't sure what to say.

The rain blurred everything else, the farm, the animals, the world. All she could focus on was the feel of his hands against her, the warmth of his body despite the cold. Neither of them moved. Maeve swallowed, her pulse quickening. Then, Kruger cleared his throat and slowly released her.

"You alright?"

Maeve quickly took a step back, brushing herself off. "Y-Yeah. Thanks."

Kruger nodded, saying nothing else. They both silently agreed to move past it, returning to their tasks as if nothing had happened. A little while later, as they finished tending to the animals, Maeve decided to break the silence.

"So," she started, "where did you live before this?"

"Shiganshina."

Maeve raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He nodded.

"I thought you were from... you know, another country."

Kruger didn't react, simply continuing his work. "No. I was born in Shiganshina."

Maeve studied him for a moment. He wasn't lying, but there was something else beneath his words—something distant, as if Shiganshina wasn't just a place he had lived, but something more.

"What was it like?" she asked. He was quiet for a while before answering.

"It was home," he said simply. There was a weight to those words.

She thought about pressing further, but instead, she asked, "What about your parents?"

Kruger's hands stilled. Maeve immediately regretted the question. For the first time since she met him, his expression changed—just slightly. His jaw tensed, his fingers curling subtly.

"They're dead," he said, his voice lower than before.

Maeve's heart sank. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"All good?" she murmured to herself as she glanced over the cows and the small flock of sheep. They were calm, settled for the night.

She was about to leave when she heard a rustle near the wooden fence just beyond the barn. Her breath hitched. Coyotes? No, it was too steady. Footsteps. Slowly, she turned toward the sound, her hand tightening around the lantern handle. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, stepping cautiously onto her property.

"Hey."

A man called out, his voice rough but not threatening. Maeve stiffened, heart pounding. A stranger at this hour?

"Who are you?" she demanded, her other hand instinctively moving toward the small knife tucked into her apron.

"I'm just passing through."

The lantern's glow revealed him. A tall figure, wrapped in a worn-out cloak, hood pulled over his face. Despite his ragged appearance, something about him felt... heavy. Not just physically, but in the way he carried himself, as if an unseen weight pressed upon him.

"I was hoping I could stay the night, I don't have anywhere else to go."

She hesitated. The world had changed in ways no one truly understood. There were no more distant nations, no merchants from faraway lands, no letters from beyond the sea. The only people left were those on this island. But the aftermath of it all still lingered. The government was hunting someone, someone responsible for the world's end.

"You're not from around here," she said cautiously.

"No."

That much was obvious. His accent wasn't like the local farmers, and she could see a sharpness in his tired eyes, something old and deep. He looked exhausted, but not weak. If anything, he seemed like a man who had survived too much. Maeve glanced toward her house. She wasn't in the habit of taking in strangers. However, it was late, and despite her fear, something told her he wasn't dangerous.

"...Just for the night," she said finally. It wouldn't hurt to let him stay for the night, right?

The man nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"Thank you," he said. "My name's Kruger."

Maeve watched him carefully. A name, but not necessarily the truth. Still, she didn't press.

"I'm Maeve," she said. "Come on."

She led him inside, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare ask yet. Inside, the warmth of the fireplace cast a golden glow over the modest home. The wooden walls creaked faintly as the wind brushed against them, and the scent of stew still lingered from earlier.

"Sit, you look half-starved," Maeve said, gesturing to the table.

Kruger, or whoever he really was, didn't argue. He pulled off his cloak, revealing a lean but muscular build, his clothes worn from travel. His dark hair was unkempt, strands falling into tired but alert eyes.

Maeve busied herself in the kitchen, ladling leftover stew into a bowl. She wasn't sure why she was doing this, why she was trusting him at all, but something in her gut told her she wouldn't regret it. When she placed the bowl in front of him, she expected him to eat quietly, maybe politely. Instead, he devoured it. She blinked as he tore through the stew like a man who hadn't eaten in days. Spoons clinking against the bowl, the sound of hurried bites filling the small home.

"You want more?" she asked. He looked up, looking surprised, perhaps at himself, perhaps at her offer. He hesitated, then gave a small nod. She fetched another serving, placing it in front of him without a word.

"You live here alone?" He asked between bites. She sat across from him, resting her elbows on the table.

"Yeah. My parents passed a while ago. This farm was theirs." He didn't respond right away, just nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully.

"You always take in strangers?"

"No, but you didn't seem dangerous." A dry, almost bitter chuckle left him.

"You shouldn't assume things like that."

"Maybe not," Maeve said, watching him. "But if you wanted to hurt me, you could have done it already."

Kruger didn't answer. He just focused on his meal, finishing every last bite.

"I don't have a guest room, but you can take the couch."

"That's fine."

She grabbed some blankets and a pillow from a small chest, setting them on the couch before stepping back. "House gets cold at night. That should be enough."

Kruger sat down, running a hand through his messy hair. His eyes flickered to the fire, then back to her.

"Thank you, Maeve."

She studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Good night, Kruger."

As she climbed the stairs to her room, she couldn't shake the strange feeling settling in her chest. She didn't know who this man was. But something told her he carried more than just a weary body—he carried ghosts.

--

The golden rays of morning sunlight streamed through the wooden shutters of Maeve's bedroom, casting a soft glow across the modest space. The chirping of birds outside signaled the start of another day, and as usual, she was awake before the sun had fully risen.

She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before glancing toward the small clock on the table. It was still early, but there was much to do. Slipping out of bed, she pulled on a simple dress and tied her hair back into a loose bun before making her way downstairs. The house was quiet, the embers in the fireplace still glowing faintly from last night's fire. Her gaze flickered toward the couch where her unexpected guest had slept.

It was empty. She stilled, her heart skipping slightly.

Was he gone? Had he left before dawn?

But then, the faint sound of footsteps reached her ears, followed by a deep sigh. She turned toward the source, only to freeze in place.

Kruger was standing near the window, stretching his arms as the sunlight streamed in behind him. She sucked in a quiet breath.

His hair, dark and slightly messy, framed his sharp features in a way that made him look almost ethereal in the morning light. His jawline was strong, his cheekbones defined, and his eyes, half-lidded from sleep, held a depth she couldn't quite place.

Maeve felt her face heat up.

Damn it.

She turned away quickly, pretending to busy herself in the kitchen. She was being ridiculous. He was just a man, a stranger, at that. There was no reason to be flustered.

"Morning," he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

Maeve cleared her throat, forcing herself to act normal. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah."

She busied herself with breakfast, grabbing eggs and bread. The routine helped steady her thoughts. "I'm making breakfast. You can sit down."

He didn't argue, moving to the table and sitting in the same spot as last night. Maeve stole a few quick glances at him as she cooked. He looked more at ease than before, but there was still something in his posture, a quiet tension as if he was always on guard. By the time she placed the food in front of him, he was fully awake, his sharp eyes scanning the meal.

"You made this fast."

"You eat fast. Thought I'd return the favor."

To her surprise, a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. She sat down, and they ate in relative silence, though she noticed once again how much he ate. It was as if he was used to starving as if every meal could be his last. She didn't comment on it, though. She just made sure he had enough.

Once they finished, Maeve pushed her chair back. "I'm going to take a bath before I start working outside. You can rest for a while if you want."

Kruger gave a small nod, though he didn't seem particularly tired. Maeve left him at the table and went to the small bathhouse behind the house, letting the warm water soothe her. Her thoughts wandered as she washed, mainly back to the sight of him standing in the morning light.

She shook her head. Stop that.

When she returned, feeling refreshed, she noticed that the kitchen was spotless. The dishes, ones she had fully intended to wash after coming back, were cleaned and neatly stacked. The table was wiped down, the area tidier than she had left it.

Her gaze darted toward the window, where she caught sight of Kruger outside. Tending to the animals. For a moment, she just stood there, watching. He looked a little lost, but he was trying, clumsily refilling water troughs, attempting to check the sheep. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, but the effort was there. Maeve sighed, grabbing her boots before heading out.

"You don't have to do that, you know," she called out as she approached.

Kruger turned, pausing mid-action. "You let me stay. I figured I should help."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You've never worked on a farm before, have you?"

"...No."

"Thought so. Come on, I'll show you how to do it properly."

She spent the next hour guiding him through the basics. How to feed the animals, how to properly fill the water troughs, and how to check if the sheep were healthy. Despite his initial awkwardness, he learned fast. His hands, though rough and used to a different kind of work, were steady. He didn't speak much, but he listened carefully, following every instruction with quiet determination.

Maeve found herself oddly impressed. By the time they finished, the morning had stretched into midday. She wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing at him.

"Not bad for your first time."

Kruger exhaled, looking at the farm animals before nodding. "It's... peaceful."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah. It is."

They stood there for a moment, the warm breeze passing between them. And for the first time since he arrived, Kruger didn't look so burdened.

"Alright," she said, stopping near the sheep pen. "Since you already tried with the sheep earlier, let me show you how to actually do it right."

Kruger stood beside her, arms crossed as he observed the animals. The sheep, fluffy, slow-moving creatures, grazed lazily, only occasionally lifting their heads to regard their visitors with mild curiosity.

"You don't just toss them food, they need the right amount, otherwise they'll overeat, or worse, some will get less than the others." She demonstrated, sprinkling the grain in an even layer while the sheep eagerly gathered around.

"See? Fair portions. You try."

Kruger took the bucket from her hands, his grip firm but careful. He mimicked her actions, his movements slightly stiff but precise. Maeve watched, resisting the urge to smile. He was learning fast.

"Not bad," she remarked as he finished. "A little stiff, but you'll get used to it."

Kruger exhaled, his expression unreadable. "How do you remember them?"

"Huh?"

"You called them by names earlier." He motioned toward the sheep.

"Of course! They're not just sheep, they're family. That one's Daisy," she said, pointing to a particularly round, white one. "She's the oldest and also the bossy one."

Kruger's gaze followed where she pointed.

"And that's Bucky," Maeve continued, motioning to a slightly smaller, spotted sheep. "He's a bit of a troublemaker, always sneaking out of the pen when I'm not looking. And that one—" she pointed to a shy-looking sheep lingering at the back "—that's Marigold. She's nervous around new people, but she'll warm up to you eventually."

Kruger simply nodded, as if memorizing each one.

Maeve tilted her head. "Do you want to name one?"

He glanced at her, as if caught off guard. "...I don't think I'd be good at that."

"Doesn't have to be fancy. Just something that comes to mind."

He was silent for a moment before pointing at a smaller, quiet sheep near the fence. "That one."

Maeve followed his gaze. "You like that one?"

Kruger nodded.

"Alright then. What's its name?"

He hesitated, then muttered, "...Theo."

She grinned. "Theo, huh? Not bad. Welcome to the family, Theo."

Kruger didn't say anything, but she swore she saw a flicker of something, something softer, pass through his usually unreadable expression.

—

Next, Maeve took him to the cattle pen.

"This one's important," she said, resting a hand against the wooden fence. "Cows need proper care. You can't just throw them food and leave them alone."

Kruger listened silently as she explained the basics. How to check their health, how to milk them properly, and how to keep the barn clean. She introduced him to each cow by name, Maple, the motherly one; Rusty, the stubborn one; and Bluebell, the gentlest of the bunch.

When she showed him how to milk a cow, he hesitated.

"Not scared, are you?" Maeve teased, smirking.

Kruger shot her a look before crouching down and trying. His first attempt was clumsy, he pulled too hard, and Maple let out a displeased huff.

"Easy, you're not trying to start a fight."

He adjusted, this time gentler, and soon, the milk started flowing properly into the pail.

"See? Not bad," Maeve said, crossing her arms.

Kruger glanced at her, and for a moment, she thought she saw the slightest hint of pride in his expression.

—

After that, Maeve took him to the chicken coop.

"Alright, this one's simple," she said, opening the wooden gate. "Collecting eggs. But be careful, some of the hens can be a little protective."

Kruger raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. Sje demonstrated, reaching into one of the nests and gently pulling out an egg.

"Easy. You just have to be calm and careful."

Kruger followed her example, reaching toward a nest, only for the hen to suddenly puff up, letting out an aggressive cluck. She stifled a laugh as he pulled his hand back slightly.

"She doesn't like you," she teased.

Kruger shot the hen a glare before slowly trying again. This time, he was more patient, moving carefully, and eventually, he managed to retrieve an egg without issue.

Maeve gave him a nod of approval. "See? Not so bad."

Kruger simply handed her the egg, his face unreadable.

—

As they finished up, two large dogs came bounding toward them from across the field. Maeve smiled as the two animals stopped near her, tails wagging.

"This is Betty," she said, ruffling the fur of the brown-and-white German Shepherd. "And this is Benok," she added, motioning to the all-black Labrador. The dogs sniffed at Kruger, clearly trying to determine if he was trustworthy.

"They guard the farm," Maeve explained. "They keep away wolves, coyotes, and any unwanted visitors."

Kruger crouched slightly, letting the dogs approach him on their own terms. To Maeve's surprise, Benok licked his hand before sitting beside him, as if approving of his presence.

"Guess he likes you," Maeve noted. Kruger scratched behind Benok's ears, his expression softening slightly.

"He's a good dog."

Maeve felt a strange warmth in her chest. He was a quiet man, one who didn't offer much in words, but she could tell he was someone who understood things in a way most people didn't. He took things seriously and paid attention.

For some reason, she liked that. By the time the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, they had finished all the chores. Maeve wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing at Kruger.

"You did good," she said. "Not bad for your first day as a farmhand."

Kruger exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "It's harder than it looks."

"Told you."