Aria felt utterly alone as she waited in the cave for Kaelen to show up with her next meal. True to his word, he hadn't forced anything upon her. But equally, he hadn't done anything. He hadn't taken her out of the cave in what Aria could only assume had been another week – a week spent alone 99 percent of the time. The other 1 percent was when Kaelen brought her meals, observed her long enough to make sure she ate, and left just as quickly.

Initially, Aria hadn't minded the solitude. It gave her space to think and plan, even if her plans felt hopeless. But as the days dragged on, a gnawing worry began to take root. What was Kaelen doing when he wasn't with her? What schemes or decisions were occupying his time? She didn't know whether to be afraid of the answer or frustrated by the mystery. Either way, it left her restless, pacing the small space of her cave until her legs ached.

Her stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. Kaelen had reduced her meals to twice a day, aligning with what his people were used to. For her, it meant long stretches of hunger punctuated by the slimy, unappetizing fish he provided. She had never liked fish much, and the raw texture made it even harder to stomach. Still, hunger won out every time.

Sitting on a rock with her feet submerged in the cool water, Aria traced idle patterns on the surface with her toes, the ripples distorting her reflection. Her hand rested on her stomach, now noticeably flatter than she remembered. A pang of discomfort hit her – not from hunger, though that was constant – but from the realisation of how foreign her body felt. Her skin was pale, nearly translucent in the cave's dim light, blue veins faintly visible beneath. She stretched out her arms and examined them, noting the bony angles of her wrists and the way her fingers looked thinner. She'd never been vain about her appearance, but something about the starkness of it unsettled her.

Her hair hung in damp, tangled strands, the color duller than she remembered. Without a mirror, she had no idea how bad it looked, but judging from the mess it felt like, it couldn't be good. She missed the days when her hair had been silky and manageable, even brushing against her back like a soft sheet of comfort. Now, it clung to her in wild, knotted waves, the salt water from Kaelen's world making it coarse and brittle. Weeks ago, her hair tie had snapped, the elastic stretched beyond repair, and she hadn't thought much of it at the time. But now, with the strands constantly falling into her face, it drove her to the edge of frustration.

She gathered a section of her hair and tugged, attempting to separate it into three parts for a simple braid. The tangles fought her with every pull, the resistance making her wince as strands snagged painfully at her scalp. The process was slow, her fingers stiff from the chill of the cave air and the unfamiliar texture of her hair. It felt wrong—everything felt wrong. Each knot she worked through was a reminder of how different her life had become. There was no one to see her now, no reason to look pretty, yet she still cared enough to try. It wasn't about vanity anymore; it was about holding onto some part of herself, something human.

As she twisted the sections together, the braid came out uneven and loose, but at least it was something. She tied the end with a strip of seaweed. It wasn't much, but it kept the hair out of her eyes. She stared down at her reflection in the water, distorted by the ripples. The face that stared back wasn't hers – or at least not the version of herself she remembered. The cave had stripped her of everything, even the familiarity of her own image. A tight knot of emotion rose in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn't cry, not now. Not for this.

Pulling her braid over her shoulder, Aria sighed and leaned forward, dipping her hands into the water. The coolness numbed her fingers, but it didn't bring the clarity she hoped for. Instead, it only made the ache of isolation sharper. The thought came unbidden – how much longer could she do this? How much longer until she forgot the person she used to be?

But even Sepiia had disappeared. Kaelen evaded her questions every time she asked about the other mermaid, changing the subject with frustrating ease. Aria couldn't decide whether he was hiding something or simply didn't care enough to bring her friend back.

A sigh escaped her lips as she stared blankly at the rippling water. Movement caught her eye – tiny waves forming far from her feet. Moments later, Kaelen's head broke the surface. His piercing blue eyes locked on her immediately, and a familiar smile spread across his face.

He reached her in two powerful strokes of his tail, wrapping his clawed hands around her waist as he pulled her into a hug. Aria tensed but didn't resist. She'd learned that allowing these moments of affection was easier than pushing back. Kaelen's moods were growing increasingly volatile, shifting from tender to icy with no warning. It was as if her continued resistance was driving him mad, unraveling whatever patience he'd once had.

"Kaelen," she ventured cautiously, "do you think you could bring me some shampoo?"

"Sham...poo?" His accent made the word sound comical, and for a fleeting second, Aria almost smiled.

"Yes. Sepiia knows what it is. Could you ask her for me?"

Kaelen tilted his head, studying her as though trying to decipher whether her request was genuine. After a moment, he gave a small nod. His hands lingered on her waist, his grip firm but not painful, before he finally released her and sank back into the water.

As he floated there, his long hair fanned out around him like seaweed. Aria realized with a start that it had grown. When she'd first met him, his hair had been short, cut above his ears – unusual for a merman. She had wondered then if he'd styled it that way to appear more human. Now, it fell to his shoulders, blending seamlessly with the flowing, wild locks of his people. Perhaps he was tired of pretending, just as she was tired of fighting.

She watched him in silence, her thoughts racing. Kaelen's patience was thinning – she could see it in his eyes, hear it in the sharp edge of his voice when she refused to comply. He would force the ritual on her eventually; of that, she had no doubt. The walls of the cave seemed to close in around her, the weight of her captivity pressing down harder with each passing day.

As Kaelen sank fully into the water and disappeared, Aria clenched her fists. She couldn't stay here. She wouldn't stay here. Whatever it took, she had to find a way out.

The next few days passed in the same monotonous rhythm: waking to the echoing silence of the cave, eating the meals Kaelen brought her, and occupying herself with small, mindless tasks to keep from spiraling into despair. Aria had braided and re-braided her hair so many times that her fingers ached. The seaweed she used as a makeshift tie had dried and frayed, barely holding the strands in place anymore. She'd tried weaving a new one, but the result was clumsy and kept slipping loose.

When Kaelen returned with her meals, he said nothing about the shampoo, avoiding her gaze when she tried to bring it up. Typical, she thought bitterly. He never gave her real answers, just cryptic smiles or silence. She was beginning to lose hope he'd even asked Sepiia. Maybe the other mermaid had forgotten about her entirely.

Then, one morning, a strange sound broke the usual quiet—a soft ripple, gentle yet purposeful, like someone moving through the water. Aria froze, her ears straining. Kaelen wasn't due back for hours, and she hadn't seen or heard any other visitors since her captivity began.

The water lapped against the edge of the cave pool, and a figure emerged, her black hair catching the faint light filtering through the rock. Sepiia.

Aria blinked, certain her mind was playing tricks on her. But as the mermaid pulled herself onto the rocks with fluid ease, her striking green eyes met Aria's with a warm, almost apologetic smile.

"You look surprised," Sepiia said, her melodic voice breaking the silence.

"I– I wasn't expecting you," Aria stammered, standing abruptly. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and confusion. "Where have you been? I thought..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

Sepiia tilted her head, her gaze softening. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Kaelen can be... insistent. But when he mentioned your request, I knew I had to see you."

Aria frowned. "My request?"

Sepiia's smile widened, and she held up a small, intricately carved bottle made of shimmering coral and pearl. "Seafoam Nectar," she explained. "It's what we use for our hair. Kaelen said you needed it."

Aria stared at the bottle, a lump forming in her throat. The simple gesture, the thoughtfulness of it, made her chest ache. "Thank you," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sepiia scooted closer, her tail glinting with iridescent hues in the dim light. "Let me help you. You look like you could use it."

Aria hesitated, then nodded. She sat down near the edge of the pool, her legs folded beneath her. Sepiia moved behind her, untying the frayed seaweed from Aria's braid.

As Sepiia worked, her fingers gentle but firm, she hummed softly – a soothing tune that echoed in the cavern. The scent of the Seafoam Nectar wafted through the air, a mix of ocean and something floral, like wild sea lilies. The shampoo's texture was creamy but light, lathering easily as Sepiia worked it through Aria's tangled strands.

"This will make it softer," Sepiia said, her voice almost a whisper. "The salt water can be harsh, even for us."

Aria closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. It had been so long since anyone had touched her with kindness. She hadn't realized how much she missed it until now. "Thank you," she said again, her voice steadier this time. "I didn't think... I didn't think you cared."

Sepiia paused, her hands stilling for a moment. "I do care, Aria. More than you know. But things are complicated."

"Complicated?" Aria repeated, her eyes snapping open. She twisted slightly to look at Sepiia. "Kaelen keeps me in this cave like some kind of prisoner, and you call it complicated?"

Sepiia sighed, her expression clouding. "It's not as simple as you think. Kaelen... he's trying to protect you, in his own way."

"Protect me? From what?" Aria's voice rose, frustration bubbling to the surface. "From freedom? From my life? I don't want this, Sepiia. I didn't ask for any of it."

"I know," Sepiia said softly. "And I don't agree with his methods. But he's not the only one watching you. There are others – elders, warriors – who would see you as a threat if they thought you were trying to leave."

Aria's breath caught. She hadn't considered that. Kaelen's possessiveness was one thing, but the idea of an entire society keeping her here? It felt suffocating.

Sepiia squeezed her shoulder gently. "You don't have to face this alone. I'll do what I can to help you."

The sincerity in her voice was undeniable, and for the first time in weeks, Aria felt a spark of hope. It was small and fragile, but it was there.

Sepiia finished rinsing Aria's hair, the tangles gone and the strands soft and silky once more. She braided it neatly, her nimble fingers weaving with practiced ease. "There," she said with a smile. "Better?"

Aria touched the braid, her fingers brushing over the smooth strands. It felt like a small piece of herself had been restored. "Better," she agreed, her lips curving into a faint smile.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, the tension easing. For the first time in what felt like forever, Aria didn't feel completely alone.