Chapter 18

“Now, I breathe,
but it isn’t breathing…

Each inhale drags her name
through the cage of my ribs,
each exhale spits out
what’s left of who I was
before she touched me.“

Nathan’s POV

She turned her back on me, her movements measured, and for a second, I swore I saw the devil in me smirk through her.

I watched her walk away, every motion of hers so provocative, every second of her distance tightening something inside me until I could almost hear it snap. My breath lodged somewhere between infuriating rage and worship…two extremes I could never tell apart when it came to her.

God, she knew exactly what she was doing.

There was something wrong with her, something that hums on the same dark frequency as me. The only difference is that I don’t hide mine. I feed it, water it, let it bloom into ruin. Meanwhile, she buries hers beneath politeness and pretty smiles, lets it slip only when she wants to watch me burn.

And I fucking like it.

I like the lie she tells herself, I like the way she trembles when it starts to fall apart. I like the confident spark that lives between her fear and desire; that sweet, dangerous place where she becomes mine again, if only for a second.

For the past month, I’ve tried to stay away, tried and failed miserably. At first, I sent Adam to keep an eye on her, told myself it was a precaution, not an obsession. But one day bled into the next, and the withdrawal started to rot my sanity from the inside out.

A month, and she still hadn’t left my bloodstream.

I thought distance would cure it, that if I stayed far enough, the noise would quieten, but every time I close my eyes, she’s there…on the edge of my thoughts, on the edge of my tongue, in the smoke I exhale and the silence that follows.

So I came, at first, just to look. To watch her go through her little ritual, sip that god-awful green drink, put her music in, and run until her lungs burned.

Every time she ran, it felt like she was running from me. So every time, I followed.

I became her ghost, her shadow, her silent running partner she didn’t know she had.

One day turned into two, then three, then I stopped counting. Her ritual became mine, and somehow, watching her breathe was the only way I remembered how to.

There’s a part of me I don’t acknowledge much, the quieter, less messed-up one, the one that’s been spinning theories since that night at the cabin. That part was worried, scared she’d disappear into her head again, vanish the way she did before, and I wouldn’t be there to drag her back out.

So when that car almost hit her yesterday, when she stepped into the street with her music too loud and her mind somewhere else, it nearly gave me a fucking stroke.

Instinct took over, and I pulled her back, and for a second, when she crashed into me, when her chest hit mine and her pulse slammed against my own, it felt like her heartbeat was trying to sync with mine. It felt like recognition, like her body remembered me, and god, in that moment, I remembered too.

I remembered what it felt like to have her that close, to taste her breath, to hear her voice catch on my name, to feel that perfect little body trembling against me, and fuck, it made me want to never let her go again, to cage her if I had to, to steal her, kidnap her away from the world that kept touching what was mine.

Even if her mind and heart will never forget that fucker, even if she loved him forever, and even if she hated me for it, I’d still want her.

God, she had no idea what she was doing to me, or maybe she did, and that’s the whole fukcing point.

One thing I’m sure of is that I’ve definitely met my match, and she’s not the kind of woman you fall for. No, she’s the kind you burn with.

And right now, she was gonna get me fucking arrested.

She pretended to jog, drawing closer to that fucking guy who was about to be murdered before the sun went down, and I followed, my pulse a growl in my veins, ready to grab her back, but my wicked princess was faster. She, accidentally on purpose, collided with him. Her body brushed his; her fake stumble was so perfectly executed.

Her eyes widened in innocent disbelief, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, all breathless charm, tilting her head just so as she looked up at him, her voice soft enough to disarm a fucking nation, “Are you okay?”

The soon-to-be-dead guy blinked, already halfway hypnotized. He tugged his earphones out, “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “I am…fine, it’s no problem at all,” He said, his eyebrows pulling closer, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, drawing in a soft, shaky breath, playing the part flawlessly. “Yeah, I was just…wrapped up in my head, I didn’t see you there.” She smiled as she brought her hand up, casually brushing his arm. What the fucking hell? “I am sorry again.”

His lips curved into a small smile, probably blown away by the fact that she was giving him any attention. “Anyway, have a nice walk,” Aylin added, stepping back, and dropping her hand, “Hopefully I won’t come crashing into you again,” She added, playfully, and her nose did that little adorable scrunch that makes me want to bite her, and right now to commit a felony, too.

“I wouldn’t really mind that,” said Mr. My-family-better-start-digging-my-grave, his grin widening.

I nearly applauded his confidence. I mean, it takes guts to flirt with your murderer watching.

With one last very fucking disarming look, she turned around, ready to resume her fake jog, but Mr. I-am-about-to-meet-my-maker reached for her arm, “Uh, excuse me,” he said, making her pause and turn back to him.

You see, this was my fault. I fucking triggered her because, apparently, I enjoy it. I love watching her green eyes darken, her throat flush, watching her combust and implode, flashing me that look that says she wants to scratch my face. You see, I live for those little details.

What I didn’t expect was for her to be this bold, this cruelly, beautifully courageous, and throw it back at me, to use my own game against me. As if I didn’t already know the kind of power she carried, of course, I did. I saw it every damn time another man’s gaze lingered too long on her, and I fucking despised it.

It made me want to lock her away, in a tower, in a castle far, far away. Fuck, I even wanted to bury her deep down in my goddamn ribs, anywhere no one else could see her but me.

“Do you come here often?” asked Mr. I-have-a-death-wish, trying to start a conversation, way too fucking comfortable for someone whose pulse had a nearing expiration date.

Aylin nodded her head, lifting her hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, all in slow, deliberate movements, as graceful as sin itself. Every movement of hers was measured, intentional, the tilt of her head, the way her lips parted slightly before she spoke; she was pure theatre, and the audience didn’t stand a damn chance.

“Almost every day,” she said softly, that honeyed tone that could melt steel. Her gaze drifted around them, “It’s quite beautiful here, isn’t it?”

He nodded, completely and utterly gone, mesmerized even. “Yeah…very beautiful indeed,” he said, thinking himself subtle, “I come here almost every day as well, how come I’ve never seen you before?” Then, he extended his hand, “I’m Tyler, by the way—”

Alright. That’s fucking enough. I can’t keep doing this unless I want to lose my fucking mind.

I moved forward, closing the space, “Here you are,” I said, my voice all sugar and sunlight as I stepped right between them, stopping him from fucking touching her again. I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” I added, smiling down at her, a smile that hid every fucked-up thing I wanted to do to her…and to him.

Aylin stiffened, and her eyes shot up to me, startled. Her jaw ticked at my interference, and she tried to pull away from me, but I tightened my grip, hard enough to hurt her.

Then I turned to Mr. breathing-his-last, flashing him the fakest polite smile. “Sorry mate,” I said, my tone dripping with charm, “is my girlfriend bothering you?”

The guy blinked, startled.

“Nathan!” Aylin hissed, trying to push away, but she stood no chance. My fingers dug into her waist, enough to bruise. I wanted to claw her from the inside out for testing my patience, and for everything else, for moaning that fucker’s name, for ruining what was the best fucking day I had in a while back at the cabin, for staying away for a whole damn month, and for daring to grab attention that better stay off her.

“She tends to wander off. Pretty things do that sometimes,” I added, looking down at her, and she met my dark gaze with defiance and fire, her jaw tightening, her I-will-scratch-your-face look made me equal parts furious and unbearably hard, “they like collecting attention they don’t need.”

He blinked, an uncomfortable smile curving his lips, “Oh, no problem, man. We were just—”

“Talking,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I saw. She’s good at that, makes people forget they’re not supposed to look at what’s already been taken.” My tone never broke its calm; I even smiled wider. “It’s a bit of a hobby of hers,” My grip on her tightened, another warning of mine, “and mine is teaching lessons the hard way.”

He was about to open his mouth, but I gave him no chance, “So how about you keep moving,”  I suggested and stepped half a pace closer. I tapped my palm against his chest, light, almost parental, then smiled. “Cardio’s good for the heart, and well, for improving your odds of surviving tonight,” I added with a wink.

He gave me a knowing smile, nodding his head, and was smart enough to back away and jog ahead before I had to pull my knife and carve his fucking heart out.

Aylin shoved at my grip when he was out of earshot, “Let me go!” She snapped, her breath hot with anger, using both hands to free herself. If possible, I pulled her closer, crushing her sweet body against mine.

I looked down at her, my earlier calm expression fading away, “That,” I murmured, my voice low and dangerous, “wasn’t very nice.”

“Leave me,” She grumbled and didn’t stop fighting; of course, she didn’t. Her hands caught my sweatshirt, pulling and pushing, her angry breath coming in wild bursts. My fingers slid down her arm, closing around her wrist, firm enough to still her, to remind her who she was fighting.

She groaned, furious, and I pulled her closer, until every breath she took collided with mine. “Easy,” I said quietly, “You’d be mad to think I’m letting you go now.”

Rageful redness rushed over her neck; it covered her ears, rushing bright and furious into her cheeks. Her eyes darkened just enough, her jaw tightening. “I said let me go,” she stressed out on each word, her voice dropping lower, in threat and warning. So clueless, isn’t she?

I just shook my head, my lips twitching.

“I had him there, I was proving my point, but you had to interfere, you just had to,” She shot out, her nostrils flaring. Why was she prettier when angry? It almost made me less furious at her.

“But the thing is, Nathan, and what you keep forgetting,” she said, stepping closer, “You don’t have any right to interfere in my life, in any way,” she shot out, “I am not your girlfriend, so never call me that again,” she added, ever so bitterly.

“Well, and you keep forgetting,” I murmured, leaning closer until my breath touched her lips, “I never needed a label to have you,” I said, reminding her that she was mine long before she said yes to my proposition.

Her eyes flared, and that murderous look in her eyes was my soothing drug, god, I’ve missed her…more than I’ll ever admit. She struggled again, jerking her arms, trying to twist out of my grip. When that didn’t work, she growled and went for my chest with a weak punch. So adorable.

“Let me go or I’ll scream!” she threatened, glaring up at me.

I grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “Scream. Go ahead.”

Her challenging, crazy look reminded me that maybe I shouldn’t mess with her again, so before those lips parted to summon an audience, I did the only logical thing possible. My arm dropped from her waist; the other swept beneath her knee, and in one smooth, impulsive motion, I lifted her clean off the ground and hauled her up over my shoulder.

She landed there with a shocked, strangled gasp, the beginning of a scream lost somewhere between my collarbone and her disbelief. Her hair tumbled over my back, brushing my neck, and the cool air filled with her furious heartbeat hammering through both of us.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down!” she shrieked, her voice raw with panic and outrage. Her fist punched me, hard, into my back, a clumsy attempt at freeing herself. She struggled, her legs kicking instinctively, her nails scraping the back of my neck as she tried to wrench free, “Put me down, Nathan! I swear to God—put me down!”

When I started walking, she gasped, one short, startled breath, then found her voice. “Help!” she screamed, loud and bright, the sound ricocheting off the nearby benches and into the path of people who were, for a beat, pretending not to notice. A few heads turned, two strangers slowed their jog, “Someone help me!” She screamed, and my chest vibrated with a low chuckle as I headed for my car.

My stride didn’t falter. I shifted her weight higher on my shoulder, adjusting my grip so she couldn’t wriggle out. She thrashed, her breath breaking in short, furious bursts, her fists never stopping, landing against my back repeatedly.

Her hands found my shoulder and landed another series of soft, impotent punches. “Put me down, Nathan, you piece of—” she panted, her voice a mix of rage and disbelief, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You are,” I said.

An old lady stopped mid-stride when she noticed us; her eyes widened, a bit concerned. I smiled, all bright and polite, “I am her doctor,” I told the woman. “You see, she’s my patient. She escaped from the psychiatric unit this morning. I’m bringing her back before she hurts herself or, god forbid, someone else.”

Aylin’s scream caught mid-air, turned into a stunned, “Wha—?” and then a furious, “You absolute asshole!” She started thrashing again, louder this time as she punched me some more. Does she not know that her violence does nothing but turn me on?

The old lady blinked at me with pity, then nodded in solemn understanding. “I’m doing the Lord’s work over here,” I added with a tired sigh, waving the old lady like a polite civilian, and kept walking.

By the time I reached the car, she was still fighting me in every way she could, knees, elbows, curses, all weaponized, my tornado of a princess. I opened the door, quickly shoved her in, and tried to strap her, which turned out to be harder than expected.

“Let me out, Nathan!” she snapped, kicking toward my ribs.

“Never again,” I said, and she clawed at my collar. She even managed to scratch the side of my neck, her nails scraping and stinging…god, she loved to do that, didn’t she? I leaned closer to fasten the belt, my body braced over hers, the car full of her ragged breaths and every frantic beat of her heart.

Her glare found me, those dark green eyes, furious and so damn beautiful, “You’re insane,” she spat, panting, her chest heaving, brushing my own with every inhale and exhale.

“Finally, something we agree on,” I said and planted a quick, casual peck on her cheek. That made her thrash harder, angrily trying to shove me away. I let her, then closed the door and locked it with the keys before I circled my way to the driver’s seat.

She was already reaching for the unlock button as I got in, this restless kitten. Before she could engineer an escape, I fired the engine and pulled the car into the street. “Where the hell are you taking me?” She shot out, pushing at the handle as if it would magically unlock at her stubborn attempts.

I kept silent and sped down the street. “Nathan, stop the car!” She shot out.

She groaned when I didn’t spare her a glance and tried to reach for the unlock button at my side once more. With one effortless motion, I curled my hand over her arm and pushed her back to her seat.

She forcefully pried her arm from my grip, “This is called kidnapping, for god’s sake!” She snapped.

“And what you did out there is called solicitation to commit murder,” I stated the obvious, my jaw tightening, “But you don’t see me putting any labels on it.”

She glared at me, “I didn’t do anything!”

“You were talking to a guy, that’s solicitation because it makes me want to kill him,” I turned to her, taking pleasure in her red, infuriated face, “Now, would you really want his blood on your conscience?”

“What about you? You were going to have drinks with Misses, ‘you dropped your keys,’ remember?” She shot back in utter mockery, and my lips twitched, unable to hide my smile. I liked her all jealous, god, she was infuriatingly gorgeous like this.

“You and I both know that I wasn’t going to do that,” I stated, deadpan.

She glared at me, “And you and I both know that I wasn’t going to do anything with that guy either!”

I nodded, “Yeah, but here is the thing,” I said, my fingers tightening slightly over the wheel at the mere memory of it, “When you go out of your way to trigger me like that, Aylin, I don’t get jealous, I just get murdery.”

I gave her a look that wasn’t a joke. “So if you’d like someone to mysteriously stop existing, by all means, go ahead and start a conversation with them.”

“You can’t do that—” she began.

“I can do whatever I want,” I said back.

“No, you can’t, you just can’t,” She said, frustration seething into her tone, “You can’t order me to stay away from you in the most hurtful way and come now, pretend like nothing had happened, and interfere in my life like this,” Beneath the flare of anger I heard the tremor of something softer, something that resembled hurt.

“It’s been a month, Nathan, don’t think I was waiting around for you.” Oh, she’d be wise not to continue that sentence, “Maybe not the guy from today, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone else over the past month.”

That was the last fucking sane thread I had.

My foot hit the brakes before the thought could catch up. The car threw itself forward, and the world skidded. Aylin’s body slammed into the belt, and she yelped, her hands clutching at the leather as the sudden halt knocked the air out of us both. For a second, the city outside the window became a smear of light and sound, and all I could hear was the drum of my own blood.

I turned to her, and all the jokes tore away.

“Why would you say that?” I shot out, “Do you like to see me lose my fucking mind?”

Something about my tone, or the unhinged look in my eyes, had her fold in on herself as if to make herself smaller. “Unlock the car,” she mumbled, her voice low, but persistent nevertheless, “Let me down. I am not going anywhere with you.”

My fingers dug into the steering wheel, grasping for control, or they’d dig into her skin instead. I tried to breathe, to pull air back into the part of me that still pretended to be reasonable; instead, I felt the animal wanting to bury itself deeper in her defiance.

I averted my gaze, looking ahead as raindrops started to tap the windshield, a soft, ridiculous percussion beneath the taut hum between us.

When she realized I wasn’t going to let her go, no matter how hard she pushed me, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. She’d leaned forward, opened the glovebox, and something metallic flashed. I turned back to her, my eyebrow raised as she pulled one of my knives out. Well, well, how did she know I keep one in there?

She held the knife up, all inexperienced and innocent, “Let me go, or else—”

My lips twitched beyond my control, “Or else what?”

Her jaw clenched, “Or else I will hurt you,” She said, the threat wobbling at the edge of her voice.

I brought my hand up and covered my mouth, trying not to laugh, but I did. I threw my head back and chuckled, my earlier anger fading away in the span of a second. My reaction pulled a frown between her brows, “Don’t laugh, I am serious!” She shot out and inched closer, the knife in her hand wobbled, god, she was so ridiculous and cute.

I watched the blade a beat, then looked up into her eyes. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth to hide the grin I couldn’t entirely kill. “You do know the sight of you holding a knife does nothing but turn me on, pr…Aylin,” I corrected myself last second. She didn’t deserve to be my princess again just yet.

“If you don’t unlock the car, you will see the real turn on,” She grumbled, infuriated by my disregard for her threats.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back comfortably, “I am waiting, go ahead,” I said, ever so cool, “I’m curious what you think that looks like.”

A low groan rumbled from her throat, and she unclasped her belt before she hastily pushed her sweet body forward, leaning over the console, nearly stradling my lap, before the cold edge of the blade met my throat. The air in the car thickened until it hummed.

I felt her knee press into my thigh, her sweet scent enveloping every alive nerve in my being, her face so close, so cutely threatening, the knife waiting for one little push to tear into my skin.

Up close, I saw everything again, I soaked her in, drank her in like a man crawling back to his poison….the small furrow between her brows, the fire smudging the green of her eyes, the pulse jumping in her throat. It was infuriating, unbearable, perfect.

You’d think there’d be something flawed about her, something uneven I could cling to for mercy, but there wasn’t. Not one. Every flawless line of her face was carved to undo me.

The storm in her eyes dared me to breathe wrong, to blink, to look away, and I couldn’t. I never could. With her like this, stradling my lap, threatening my life with a knife to my throat, god, she never looked more beautiful.

She looked like everything I ever lost and the bullet I’d take to get it all back.

“I am gonna marry you one day, you know that, right?” I said quietly, the thought slipping out before reason could catch it.

My words had her freezing. She went still, the knife hovering uselessly in her grip. Her eyes flicked from the blade pressed near my throat to the place where our gazes met. They widened, just slightly, enough for me to see the flicker of disbelief, the ripple of something she couldn’t hide fast enough.

I didn’t bother taking the words back…why would I? She could see it, every unhinged inch of it. The degree of my obsession didn’t need explaining; it was written in the way I looked at her, in the way my pulse stuttered whenever she breathed.

My need for her had stopped feeling human a long time ago. It was something feral now, stitched into my bones, gnawing at the parts of me that used to make sense.

Never in my life did I feel anything like this. Never did I think someone could dismantle me this quietly—just by existing.

My hand trailed up, resting over her waist,  holding her there as if the air itself might steal her away. We were breathing the same air, our faces on the same level, the cold edge of the blade still testing the boundaries of my skin.

My eyes flickered to her soft lips; they were slightly parted, my words disarming something in her. I leaned in, just enough that my nose brushed hers, and the smallest tremor went through her. I heard it, felt it, the sound of a breath breaking in half.

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a heartbeat, the world tilted on its axis. My lips barely brushed hers, close enough to taste her breath, to feel the tremor that lived between us, yet still not close enough, a hair’s breadth from ruin.

Then she reminded me exactly who she was, my one and only match.

I didn’t even register the shift until it was already over. One second, she was beneath my palm, caught between my breath and hers; the next, she moved, so damn fast, so clever as she took advantage of my distraction and pressed the unlock button.

Her quick movement had the blade kiss my skin as she twisted away, just enough to cut, to burn, enough to draw out blood…my wicked princess, she was not to be messed with.

The door burst open right away, and the cold air rushed in. She stumbled out, her hair wild, her heartbeat still echoing in my chest, and then she ran off as fast as she possibly could.

Just like that, she tilted the entire scene in her favor, leaving me sitting there with blood on my throat, anger, and lust in my veins.

I wiped a hand over the smear of blood she drew out before my hand clamped over the door handle, and I went down. Aylin was already halfway down the street, the sound of her shoes echoing off wet pavement. She was fast, but I was faster. I quickly ran after her, enough to catch her pace. Every attempt of hers to push me away had only urged me to get closer.

The cold air whipped across my face, it tangled in my hair, it hit and burned against the cut on my throat, the scent of rain and adrenaline mixing in my lungs.

When I was close enough, my arms went around her waist from the back, enough to lift her feet off the wet ground and ruin her attempt to escape me. Her pants dissolved into a gasp as I pulled her into me, a small, startled sound escaping her lips. Her tensed back pressed into my chest, and I lowered my head, my lips brushing her ears, “I told you, even if you run,” I whispered, “I’ll always catch you.”

Rain fell in slow, unhurried drops over and around us, one after the other. The road was nearly empty, and the pitter-patter of rain couldn’t quite drown out the rhythm of our breathing.

She didn’t fight me this time; maybe she was exhausted, or maybe she finally surrendered herself to me. Either way, she stayed still, defiant in her stillness, beautiful in her quiet rebellion.

I looked down at her, at the way the wet strands of hair clung to her neck, her pulse jumping beneath it, waiting for me to bite it, at the way she refused to look back and face me. My lips curved up, smiling, relaxing. God, this moment, this chaos dressed in calm, was made for me.

I could fill notebooks with it, I’d write pages on top of pages about this exact fleeting second, bleed metaphors over every inch of paper, trying to capture the shape of her in the rain, in my arms. It was just so damn poetic, the kind that tortured the poet.

“Why won’t you just let me go?” She whispered, her voice breathless, her eyelids gliding down as she spoke.

I tightened my arms around her waist, my palm pressed over her stomach, pulled her closer if possible, “Because my world doesn’t spin right when I do,” I muttered.

Her head leaned back, pressing against my chest, and she breathed, “Then why did you leave?”

When I didn’t answer, she turned in my hold, her eyes searching for something I couldn’t give her. “Why did you leave me that day?” she demanded, her jaw locked, her voice trembling beneath her fury. “Right after we had a really beautiful night, right after I said yes, why did you end everything like that?”

Her words tore open a door I’d welded shut; they took me back, and I hated to go back to that fukcing night, to that morning, and everything I felt. My jaw tightened, I tasted iron, and I had to bite back before I said something bad, before I punished myself and pushed her away again.

My silence fired up the bit of pain in her eyes, “Right. Of course,” she scoffed, “Maybe nothing happened at all. Maybe that’s what you love to do, Nathan, pull me close just to push me away again.”

Her voice rose, “To get me all tangled up in you, only to shove me off the nearest cliff.” She drew in a shuddering breath, and the fight in her voice broke into something quiet but deadly. “And if that’s how you’re going to keep doing this—” she swallowed, “then I don’t want to be a part of it.”

My jaw tightened once, twice, the words scraping out through my teeth. “You would’ve done the same thing,” I tried to say it without screaming, without getting angry, without pushing her away from me.

She shook her head hard. “No, I wouldn’t. Don’t tell me what I would’ve—”

“Are you sure, Aylin?” I grated out, my voice rising beyond my control, “If I moaned some other girl’s name while fucking you, what would you do?” I shot out, and I wanted to do what she just said, push her off the nearest fucking cliff.

My words drew lines between her brows, and she blinked, trying to make sense of what I meant, “Wha—” her throat bobbed, and I knew she now knew what I meant. “What do you mean?”

I dragged a hand through my hair, the memory crawling up my throat, suffocating me. “I took you out of the pool because you were…” I shook my head, “I don’t know, you were panicking, I guess. I placed you on the bed, and you held on to me,” I gave her the memories she was desperately asking for, “You kissed me, and I kissed you, and I thought…”

My jaw ticked, “I stupidly thought you felt safe with me, you took my hand, and you wanted me to touch you, you were finally calming down, and when I did, when you reached your high, you moaned his fucking name, Aylin.”

Her eyes widened, vacant for a heartbeat, as if her brain refused to translate the words I’d just thrown at her.

“It only proved that you never forgot him like you keep claiming you did,” I pointed out, “You never stopped loving him, and that day, your guard was down, so it slipped out,” I added, the fury living deep within me kept on multiplying, “But it only proved that maybe everytime I touched you, you were only imagining him—”

“No!” She shot out, the words tearing out of her throat. Her eyes went wide, stunned, terrified. “That never—it never happened, I don’t…” Her voice stumbled, cracked, the shock in her eyes mixing with disbelief, “I don’t know why I said it, I don’t remember,” She achingly whispered, wetness swarming her cracked gaze, “I don’t remember that day, I don’t. I don’t know where my mind…went, but it’s not like that. I never, he never crossed my mind, not even once when I was with you!”

Something in me recoiled. I broke contact with her skin because now I wanted to do what I failed to do that day in the cabin. The urge, the voice in my head asking to just kill her, end her, maybe it would end this obsession along with her, got louder and louder.

I stepped back, needing distance before the madness won.

She noticed me retreating, and she stepped forward, “Nathan, I don’t know how to get you to believe me, but he is never on my mind anymore, god, I don’t even remember the last time I thought of him, because…because it’s you,” She whispered, “It’s you consuming every waking minute, and every thought of mine. It’s you for some goddamn reason.”

I forced my gaze away from her, because when I looked at her, I felt disoriented, like I might say or do something not right…

“Nathan,” she whispered again, smaller this time. The sound barely reached me. When I didn’t answer, she added, “I’m sorry. I wish I could explain why I said it that day, but…I don’t remember. I really…really don’t.”

My fists tightened, loosened, tightened again. I dragged my gaze from the street back to her. “How come you don’t remember?”

Her brows drew together; confusion fogged her face, so clueless, so helpless. “I don’t…” she said, her voice unsteady. “I don’t know.”

“Aylin, when we were in the pool, you just—blanked out,” I said, searching her expression for something, anything. “And I can’t stop thinking that wasn’t the first time it happened. So you must know why.”

She shook her head again, her eyes glistening, the tip of her nose turning red, “I really don’t know.”

Her gaze drifted below, unfocused, scanning the ground as if the answer might be there, as if she could dig it up from the cracks in the pavement. The look that crossed her face then…it frightened me. That vacant, faraway flicker, like she was slipping somewhere else again, like she was about to get lost in her head again.

I stepped closer, instinctively, my voice gentler, “Aylin.”

She blinked and lifted her head up, a bit startled at how close I suddenly was, “Huh?”

My brows knit tighter; I couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop searching for signs that she was still here. Fuck, she was gonna drive me mad with this fear that she might just blank out again, go somewhere in her head where she doesn’t know me.

Confusion flickered in her eyes the longer I stared. She anxiously shifted on her feet and flashed me a weary look, “Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked, baffled.

My jaw tightened, and I pushed my hands into my pockets. “What do you want to do now?” I asked, giving her the option to decide.

She glanced around at the dark street, the rain-softened glow of passing headlights. “My car’s still at the marina,” she said finally, her voice small and tired.

“I can take you back there,” I offered, “Or I can drive you to your place and have your car brought to you later.”

She blinked at me, caught off guard by my sudden calm civilian act. For a moment, she just studied me, as if waiting for the punchline. “I think it’s better if you drive,” she said, much quieter. The words came out hesitant, like she didn’t trust herself to be alone.

I nodded once and extended my hand before I could stop myself. Her fingers slipped into mine without hesitation. They felt small, cold, and trembling. I closed my hand around hers, trying to warm her skin as I pulled her back to my car. I opened the door for her, and she slid inside without protest this time.

When I went behind the wheel, something glinted by my foot, the knife she’d dropped, my knife. I picked it up, turned it once in my hand, then popped open the glove box and tossed it inside.

Aylin’s gaze followed the motion. When I looked at her, I flashed her a knowing look. She pressed her lips together, guilt flickering in her eyes before they shifted to my neck, where both her nails and the blade had left their undeniable mark.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, curling into the seat, “but you deserved it,” She added in a lower voice that I heard.

I kept my mouth shut and steered us into the street. For once, silence felt safer than words.

After a while, Aylin exhaled and leaned back against the seat. Her arms folded over her chest, her cheek pressed to the headrest, her eyes tracking the blurred city lights outside. I caught myself glancing at her more than once, to make sure she was still here, that she hadn’t drifted somewhere I couldn’t reach again.

When we pulled up outside her building, she straightened up and looked at me. “Do you want to come down?”

“Depends,” I said, half-serious, “are we gonna have sex?”

She shot me a glare, “You know what, never mind,” She grumbled and reached for the handle, ready to get down.

My hand closed around her arm before she could move. “Easy,” I murmured, pulling her back just enough. I guided the car into the parking space, let it roll to a stop, and killed the engine. By the time I stepped out, she was already on the sidewalk, a few strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, raindrops tracing the soft curve of her neck.

We walked in silence through the puddles, our footsteps echoing as we reached the elevator and rode up to her house.

She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket, the metal clinking softly, then unlocked the door and pushed it open, with a silent gesture for me to follow.

Her apartment wasn’t anything too fancy or too large, but it didn’t need to be. I liked it, a lot, even more than any mansion I’ve lived in. It was warm, cozy, and it carried that quiet thing that was entirely her. God, it even smelled like her, a mix of jasmine and lavender.

I couldn’t help the way my eyes wandered around. A few books were stacked unevenly beside the couch. I wanted to open them, read them, to see what kind of stories she let inside her head, which words she kept company with. There was a half-burnt candle on the table, a mug on the counter that hadn’t been washed yet.

“I’ll go change,” her voice cut through the quiet, pulling me out of my slow study of her world. She pointed down the hallway. “There are towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself.”

Then she was gone, the soft sound of her footsteps fading into the dim corridor. A door clicked shut a second later, then locked, by the sound of it, not trusting me or whatsoever.

I dropped onto the couch and grabbed one of her books, thumbing it open like I was entitled to the inside of her head. I’ve spent months piecing her together, mapping her habits, and as much as I have figured her out, as much information I’ve gathered on her, I feel a hell of a lot is still missing.

I skimmed a few lines, random fragments of someone else’s poetry bleeding into my mind, when something slipped loose from between the pages. A small, folded paper fluttered to the floor like it had been waiting for me.

I bent down, picked it up. It wasn’t part of the book. The edges were soft, worn down, refolded more than once, like something meant to be hidden. My gut already knew it wasn’t meant for me to find. Which, of course, made me want to open it more.

I set the book aside and unfolded the note. The handwriting was small, slanted, and pressed deep enough to almost tear the page.

Only two short lines stared back at me, right in the middle of the paper:

‘No one believed you, no one ever will.
Just a little advice, Aylin…never trust the water.’

The words felt wrong. I read them again, and again, till the letters started to blur, but the sudden itch crawling up my spine didn’t.

My gaze drifted to the closed door down the hall, and I crumpled the note in my fist, my pulse echoing the rain just outside.

Whatever secret she left to drown…was starting to surface.

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s Note:

Helloww my peeps!
I hope you are liking this book so far 🙂

Do you have any theories in mind about how this story will progress? Any ideas what Aylin’s condition is? xD

Anyways, see ya soon 🩶