Heathcliff.

The wind battered the windows of Wuthering Heights, as if it wanted to tear away the secrets those walls held. Heathcliff paced restlessly, his dark gaze seeming to carry a thousand storms. Catherine, sitting by the fire, watched him in silence. "You're not the same anymore..." he murmured, with a mixture of anger and sadness. Heathcliff didn't answer. Because deep down, he knew it was true. Everything had changed since she arrived. No one knew exactly where she came from. She just appeared one gray afternoon, drenched by the rain, with a steady gaze and an eerie calm that contrasted sharply with the violence of the place. Catherine was the first to notice how Heathcliff looked at her… differently. At first, Catherine didn't think much of it. She thought it was curiosity. Or perhaps mistrust. But not. They were small things. Private conversations. Glances that lingered longer than usual. Silences that spoke volumes. Until one night, Catherine saw them. Standing near the entrance, in the rain that barely stopped, Heathcliff held the young woman's hands as if they were the only real thing in the world. "I can't keep denying it..." he said, his voice breaking. "With you... it's different." Catherine's heart broke at that moment. Because Heathcliff, the same one who had always been a part of her, the one who swore that their souls were united... now looked at someone else that way. "And what am I then?" Catherine whispered from the shadows, unable to contain herself. They both turned around. The silence was worse than any scream. Heathcliff didn't know what to say. For the first time, he had no words, no anger, no pride to protect him. "You are... everything I was," she finally replied, in a low voice. Catherine felt something inside her shut down. The young woman took a step back, uncomfortable, but without completely breaking eye contact with Heathcliff. She knew what she had done… but she also knew that she couldn't change how he felt.