Her palms dug into the sand as she crouched there, stunned. For a mont, she just breathed, trying to steady herself. Then she looked down.
Her feet were throbbing. Badly.
The skin was stretched tight over the swelling—puffy and discolored, almost like they didn’t belong to her anymore. They looked like elephant feet. She winced, shifting her weight slightly, and felt the pain rush up her legs like a delayed warning siren.
She knew why.
Her eyes softened—not with tears, but with that quiet, familiar frustration. It always ca back to that day. That clinic.
She had been just a child. A cold winter, a bad fever, and her parents—trying to do the right thing—had taken her to a run-down local clinic. The doctor there hadn’t known what he was doing.
Not really.
He’d poked and pierced her feet with needle after needle, searching for veins, or pretending he was. The nurse had stood by, unsure. Her feet had swollen terribly back then, and ever since, every ti cold or humidity returned, so did the pain.
No amount of exercise, massage, or therapy ever completely solved it.
Now, sitting here with the damp ocean air thick around her, she understood. The path here had gradually beco more humid, and her focus—sharp and unrelenting—had drowned out the pain. Her adrenaline had carried her, step after step. But now that she had arrived... now that she had finally stopped...
Her body collapsed.
And there she was, crouched at the edge of sothing beautiful, held down by sothing old. Sothing that had never fully healed.
Seeing this, Cutie hurriedly rushed forward and grabbed her shoulder, concern written all over his face.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
But then his eyes fell—straight to her feet.
And just like that, his whole expression shifted.
Stunned. Confused. Disbelieving.
He blinked, looked up at her, then back at her feet again, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that had suddenly turned into a punchline.
"Didn’t you say... you belong to the chimpanzee tribe?" he said slowly.
"Then why do your feet look like an elephant’s?"
Silence.
And then—SMACK.
A sharp, clean slap sliced through the salty seaside air.
It echoed. Loud. Undeniable.
Cutie didn’t even get the chance to finish blinking before his head snapped slightly to the side. He covered his cheek, slowly turning away, trying to hide both his sha and the redness now blooming across his face.
Kaya’s hand lingered in the air for a mont before she pulled it back, fingers twitching from the sting. Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.
’What the actual hell did he an by that?’
Elephant feet?
Seriously?
Just because she didn’t tiptoe around like so dainty little flower didn’t an she was so wild, stomping creature.
She was strong. She walked like she ant it.
But she was still a girl.
Still a woman.
And insulting a woman’s appearance—that was a whole new level of idiocy.
So yes, that slap was deserved.
Not out of impulse—
But out of principle.
A mont passed. Maybe two.
Cutie stood exactly where he’d been slapped, palm still cradling his cheek. His lips were parted slightly, like he was trying to form a sentence that got lost sowhere between his brain and his mouth.
Then, slowly... he blinked. Once. Twice.
He looked at Kaya—not with anger, not even confusion—but with the soft, wounded gaze of soone who just got hit for opening the wrong door."...Was it sothing I said?" he asked quietly, as if genuinely trying to understand.
His big, round eyes blinked at her with the innocence of a baby deer. His brows lifted just a little, making his expression tragically adorable—like he was monts away from sulking, but trying not to.
"I just thought... elephants are strong," he added in a murmur, rubbing his cheek
He took a step closer, cautious now.
"Plus, they’re graceful in their own way?" he tried again, voice almost like a guilty whisper. "Like royalty... walking slowly but confidently..."
Kaya turned to him sharply.
He straightened like a soldier caught sneaking snacks during training.
"...You done?" she asked flatly.
Cutie paused.
His lips were completely shut, sealed tight like soone had glued them together.
Not with actual glue—no.
But with guilt. Or fear. Or that soft, stunned confusion that follows after doing sothing stupid to soone you care about.
Seeing this, Kaya shook her head slowly.
Not out of amusent. Not even in anger anymore.
Just... tired.
She braced her hands against the ground and tried to push herself up, her body protesting with a sharp sting that shot through her leg.
But before she could even get halfway, Cutie stepped forward.
Silently.
His hand stretched out—hesitant but ready to help. His fingers twitched slightly, like they carried so lingering healing warmth, like they still glowed from that soft power of his.
But just as he got close—
Kaya lifted her hand and stopped him.
The air between them grew still.
And with a deep breath, she forced herself upright.
Bit by bit.
Gritting her teeth, refusing to show the pain that was clearly there.
It wasn’t that Kaya didn’t feel pain.
She felt everything.
But accepting his help now? That was dangerous.
Not for her body. For her heart.
Because today, he might offer her his hand. He might heal her bruises and make her pain disappear.
But what about tomorrow?
What if he wasn’t there the next ti she fell?
What if she started depending on this comfort—this borrowed ease—and one day, it was gone?
Kaya didn’t want to get used to it.
Because she knew the truth.
If you rely too much on painkillers, the day you’re left without them...
The pain hits ten tis harder.
So she limped forward.
Alone.
Her steps uneven, her body swaying slightly.
But she walked.
Toward the sea.
Kaya stood in front of the sea, watching the glowing water shimr under the light. She slowly bent down and touched the waves lapping at the shore.
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