Chapter 26

“She was disappearing,
inch by inch,
like breath on glass,
like a name whispered
into the wrong kind of wind,

But I reached for her anyway.“

Aylin’s POV

The moment I stepped back into Nathan’s house, something in my chest twisted so sharply it almost knocked the breath out of me. It felt as if this entire day had sunk its teeth into me and refused to let go.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a second, letting the silence rush over me.

God…what a day.

It started with my skull splitting open, like someone reached inside my head and twisted every nerve, and somehow, the pain didn’t stay in my skull…it traveled, moved, and settled right here in my chest, burning ever so mercilessly.

I kept replaying that moment at the marina, over and over again, until I drove myself insane. If my defective brain ever wanted to spare me a memory, just one memory, I wished it would erase that one.

That look on Nathan’s face, so rare, so unguarded. A look I’d never seen on him before, and one I’m certain he’d never shown to anyone else in his entire life.

Promise me that you would never leave me.

Oh god…

Behind all of his sharp edges, all of his chaos, all of his unhinged confidence, there was a…boy. A little boy who had been left before, and who would rather carve his heart out with his own hands than experience it again.

That boy asked me for one thing, one promise, one stupid, simple, devastating promise, and I couldn’t give it to him.

I pressed a hand over my heart as if I could quiet the ache, but it only throbbed harder, pulsing like it resented me.

I hurt him again today, didn’t I? I did. Of course, I did.

The thought alone hollowed something inside me.

I swallowed hard, pushing off the door and walking further inside. My legs felt too heavy, my mind too full, everything inside me scraping against itself like broken glass.

I wanted to promise him that. God knows I wanted to.

But, I…couldn’t.

I don’t get to make promises like that, promises of forever, promises that require certainty, promises that demand a mind that won’t betray me. I don’t…I don’t trust my brain. I don’t trust my own memory to stay whole tomorrow, let alone for a lifetime. I just can’t.

If I ever give him a promise, it has to mean something. It has to be real. I want to believe it with both hands, both lungs, and my entire heart, and right now…I don’t believe or trust myself, not at all.

I’ve only ever done this once before, loved someone deeply, recklessly, stupidly. I had one relationship before Nathan, one boy I convinced myself would be my one and only.

God…what a fool I was.

I wish I could go back to that younger version of me and shake her, slap some sense into her, because she loved like she’d never bleed. She handed her heart over like it was indestructible, like she could never lose her mind or lose herself.

But she did.

She ruined herself by loving too deeply, too blindly, too young, and now I’m older, and I’m supposed to be wiser, but I am still that same girl underneath, still the idiot whose heart jumps into the jaws of all wrong things.

And Nathan? God, Nathan was the definition of wrong.

Despite the way he treats me differently than he treats anyone else, despite the way he looks at me like I’m carved somewhere beneath his ribs, despite the tenderness he tries so hard to pretend isn’t tenderness at all…

He was all things wrong.

The kind of wrong your parents warn you about. The kind of wrong that sets your life on fire and then stands there admiring the flames. The kind of wrong that whispers trust me while dragging you to the edge of the world.

He was danger wrapped in warmth, chaos dressed as devotion, a full-blown hurricane disguised as a man.

And you know what’s worse?

He was the kind of wrong my heart remembered how to love.

I dragged a hand down my face, as if I could wipe my thoughts clean, as if I could force my brain to stop spinning in the same damned loop. Today was not my day, for sure, and going to Grandpa only made it worse. His words kept echoing, slipping under my skin, tangling with the mess Nathan left behind in my chest.

By the time I reached the kitchen, my nerves felt like frayed wires sparking against bone.

I paused at the counter. The grocery bags were stacked neatly, every item from the list I texted him. Typical Nathan…even after bleeding vulnerability in front of me, he snapped back into his old self within seconds, pretending nothing happened, making jokes, teasing me, touching me like I hadn’t just gutted him with silence.

How does he do that? How does he break open and then fold himself back together so fast, while I’m here drowning in the wreckage?

My attention snagged on something beside the bags. There was a small packet of painkillers, with a sticky note on top.

I picked it up slowly.

“This will help with your headache.
Also, I wish I were there to do unholy,
filthy things to you with, per your words, my monstrous dick.
—N“

My lips twitched despite myself, a muted laugh slipping out with the kind of ache that bordered on grief. See, he was acting like all was fine, like I hadn’t just indirectly told him that whatever we had might be temporary.

My fingers curled around the note, pulling it closer to my chest for a second longer than necessary.

That’s when I noticed one more thing out of the ordinary. Beside the pills, resting quietly on the counter, was a single rose. Just one. It was deep red, so dark it was almost black around the edges. It had a very long stem, stripped of every thorn, as if he couldn’t risk even a sliver of danger touching me.

I reached out and touched the edge of the petals, so soft and cold. They were half-open, lush and heavy, like they were caught mid-blooming. It was no normal rose, no, it looked different, like it was stolen from some midnight fairy garden.

I lifted it to my nose, my eyelids fluttering shut as its scent curled through my lungs.

I needed to fix things tonight. I really, really did.

So I forced myself to push everything else away, and I tried to focus on the moment.

Cooking was—I hated to admit it, but it was my lov…my care language. If I cared about you, I fed you. Period. It was one of the few things I was good at, the one where I felt entirely, mercifully in control.

Maybe it was just me, but there was something undeniably tender about preparing a meal with your bare hands for another person.

Which is why when he made me that simple plate of eggs this morning, my heart flew high, then crashed somewhere deep and stupid and soft inside me.

In my dictionary, making food for someone was intimate.

So I pulled my hair up, rolled my sleeves, and started.

An hour-ish later, the kitchen smelled like butter, mushrooms, and something so savory it made me hum under my breath without meaning to. I was almost done. I’d gone with a steak in a creamy mushroom sauce, parmesan herbed potatoes, and a side of salad. I set the dining table carefully, arranging the plates just right, lighting a few candles, and fixing the wine glasses.

Before I finished the last touches, I checked the time.

A little past six.

Oh shit, I still needed to get ready.

I instantly rushed upstairs, washed up, did minimal makeup, and then tore through the few outfits I had in here, trying to pick something that fit a date-night-in but also…something he’d like.

Stupid, I know, considering he’d prefer me wearing nothing at all, but still, I wanted to look good for him.

I settled on my black shorts, the pair that always made his eyes darken, like he was eating me alive from the inside out. I combined it with a crimson red top. I fixed my hair, letting it fall loose over my shoulders, and then applied my red lipstick.

When I looked in the mirror, I felt almost like myself again. Satisfied, I headed downstairs, finished the remaining touches, and checked the clock again.

Ten minutes before he’d get here.

A low sigh parted my lips, and I looked all around me, searching for something to do. It felt as if I stayed still, my mind would drag me right back into the misery loop and ruin the night.

So I kept moving. I wandered aimlessly through Nathan’s house, trailing my fingers along furniture that didn’t feel like him, peeking into corners like maybe they’d snitch on him and tell me all of his secrets.

His house was big, too big for one person, but it didn’t feel personal at all, almost like he bought it already furnished just to avoid the hassle of choosing anything. A couple of rooms were still unfurnished, just empty, and he didn’t seem to care much.

I slipped between them, letting curiosity tug me forward, until I reached one that looked like an office. It was the only place here that felt personal in a way.

I slipped inside, my gaze moving slowly, taking everything in.

Against one wall stood a tall bookcase, stacked with way too many books. I edged closer, my fingers ghosting over the spines. Some were literature, old leather-bound classics, and many…many were medical books. I smiled. He was a nerd, indeed.

I turned toward the desk, my eyes falling on his hoodie, the one he wore earlier, draped over the back of the chair. I felt a cold chill seep through me, so I didn’t overthink much and picked it up. God, it smelled like him, so intoxicating, like cedar, and amber, and something so clean, a scent that had no business becoming my favorite thing ever, yet somehow already was.

I slid it over my body, sinking into the oversized fabric, the warmth of it swallowing me whole.

Just as I tugged at the sleeves, rolling them up and freeing my tiny hands from the fabric, my gaze drifted back to the desk. There were many papers scattered around, composing a file of sorts.

I froze.

My forehead tightened, my heart stumbling into a harsh rhythm, because the names printed there were familiar.

Too familiar.

What the—

I quickly grabbed the papers with urgent fingers, flipping through them fast, my pulse roaring in my ears. Information, detailed information, way too much, photos, records, about my mother, and…and even grandpa.

A sharp, icy jolt shot straight through me.

What the actual hell?

I didn’t even have time to process it, not truly, because just then I heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway.

My head felt like it was on literal fire.

I tore out of the office, practically stumbling into the hallway, rushing down the stairs so fast I nearly missed a step. I landed on the last stair the exact second he unlocked the door and was about to walk inside.

“Honey, I am home,” He said, his tone ever playful and domestic, “Wow, I could really get used to saying that—”

He paused when his eyes fell on me.

The lines between his brows tightened, reading me the way he always did. He saw the shock on my face, the utter bewilderment.

I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I marched straight to him and slammed the papers against his chest, “What the hell is this?”

They dropped to the floor between us, scattering all around us. Nathan didn’t even blink, didn’t flinch…didn’t care. His gaze followed the papers as they fell, unbothered, bored even.

As if this, this violation, this madness, was just another Tuesday for him.

“What is this, Nathan? Answer me,” I shot out, not planning on letting this go.

He shrugged, closed the door behind him with obscene calm, and stepped further inside, kicking the papers aside with the lazy arrogance of a man who’d never feared consequences a day in his life.

“Why so surprised?” he said, his tone infuriatingly smooth. He tilted his head, his lips twitching slightly, “You know I have a knack for doing…research.”

My jaw ticked, my fingers on the side clenching into a fist, “You have no right to dig this deep into my family or invade their privacy, no right at all!” I shot out. “I only tolerate your shenanigans when it’s about me, or whatever chaos you’re comfortable drowning in, but the second you come near my family—Nathan, I swear to god, I’ll draw the line.”

Despite my cracked relationship with them, they were…my family. He had no right. He had no right to pry under my skin like this.

His eyebrow raised, and his calm mask was starting to crack.

“Tolerate?” he repeated, his voice low. “You…tolerate me?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “Tolerate, and turn a blind eye to your toxic behaviors,” I said, “But you try to touch my family? I won’t let you.”

Nathan pushed his hands into his pockets and glanced around the house with a bored sigh. “I recall there being a dinner. So when are we eating?” He said, ever so casually, “Because I do not seem to appreciate this warm welcome.”

I nearly lost it.

“Stop changing the subject and answer me—“

“No,” His voice harshly cut through mine.

“No, you stop.” His voice tightened, and the crack in his mask was expanding. “I was trying my fucking best to keep it together today,” he said, his voice quiet in a way that was more dangerous than shouting. “So do not ruin it, Aylin.”

He stepped closer, his shadow stretching over me.

“Close the subject,” he said, no, he ordered, “and let’s carry on with this night. Do not push me.”

The warning in his voice should’ve scared me. It didn’t.

I lifted my chin and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Did you really burn my grandpa’s vineyard property?” I asked, my voice low, recalling all of my grandpa’s words, the many accusations I’d denied, dismissed, and told him he was mistaken.

Because I, in my delusional optimism, thought Nathan had lines he wouldn’t cross.

Apparently, Nathan didn’t have lines at all.

“Answer me,” I pushed, stepping deeper into the fire. “Did you threaten my mother, too?”

Nathan never gave me the pleasure of seeing him flinch, or get shocked, or taken aback by my knowledge. He didn’t step back, didn’t defend himself, didn’t deny.

He simply nodded, unapologetic and unbothered. God, that’s who he was, how did I even forget…

My fingers dug deep into my palms, trying to keep myself from clawing at his infuriatingly calm face. I felt the tightness on my chest expand, bloom. I felt betrayed in a way.

“You see, this…this is why I couldn’t give you that promise this morning,” I said, my voice wavering, the whole day taking its toll on my nerves. “This is why, because somewhere deep down, I knew you’d pull a stunt like this and I would have no choice but to leave, I kne—”

My words dissolved into a gasp when his fingers harshly wrapped around my upper arms, dragging me toward him with a force that knocked air from my lungs.

“Stop,” he growled, his voice shredded at the edges, “talking.”

He hauled me closer, our faces inches apart, my toes barely anchored to the ground. He was so much taller that I had to tilt my chin up, my breath caught between us.

The last human fleck in his eyes vanished, swallowed whole by a darkness so stark it felt like staring into something that wasn’t entirely human anymore.

His breath hit my cheek, uneven, and threaded with fury. 

A tremor shot through my ribs, clenching around the stupid, traitorous heart inside me. The one that liked to mock me at the worst possible moments.

I winced, my eyes squeezing shut under the pressure of his grip. “You’re hurting me,” I whispered, my voice much smaller than I wanted it to be.

At my words, something in him snapped back. The lines between his brows tightened, a flicker of awareness cutting through the frenzy strangling him. He released me, slowly, much gentler than the way he pulled me in.

I rubbed the sleeves of his hoodie over the spot where his fingers had dug in, over the spot that ached. I looked up at him, not sure what to feel anymore.

His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jumping. He forced a breath through his nose, his chest rising and falling sharply as he turned away from me for a second.

His eyes shut briefly, a single second where he seemed to gather himself.

Then he looked back at me, composed enough to speak, but still fraying at the edges.

“They’re hiding something,” he said, his voice rough but steadier, like he’d swallowed the monster down just enough to talk. “Your mother, your grandfather. They’re covering shit up, about your health, and about what happened to you all those years ago in that fucking pool. They know, I am sure.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, my throat tightening until it hurt.

“They’re not willing to give me answers, so I took the only route I know,” he went on, his voice sharpening. “They chose the uncivil way,” he continued, “and I am nothing if not good sport when it comes to retaliating.” His eyebrow raised, “So when they send men after me to kill me, of course I’m going to fire back,” He said, “Just be thankful I didn’t kill the old man right on the spot.”

My breath stuttered. Send men to kill him? What the—?

I blinked at him, stunned, but Nathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t start thinking this will stop me or hold me back by any means,” he said, addressing my outburst, “I’m not leaving them alone until they admit who hurt you that day, until I know exactly who they’re covering up for.”

“So, you want to get mad? Then get mad,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “You want to scream? Hit me? Go ahead.”

He stepped closer, his shadow consuming me whole, ready to swallow me and spit me out.

“You want to leave?”

His eyes darkened as he leaned in, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

“Then maybe you forgot something,” he brought his hand up, and I shivered when his fingertips brushed near my cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, “you don’t actually have a choice in that.”

My eyes went wide because he meant it. God, he meant it. He looked ready to lock me underground if that’s what it took.

“Since you…tolerate me and my toxic behaviors,” He threw my words right back at me, “You’ll learn to tolerate this too.”

Something burned sharply in my throat, and I tried to swallow it, but it stayed. I brought my hand up, rubbing at the skin, wanting to scratch it, claw it out, “Did it not cross your mind that…maybe,” my voice trembled despite how hard I tried to steady it, “maybe I don’t want to know what happened that day?”

His eyebrows pulled in, a rare flicker of confusion slicing through his expression, “Why wouldn’t you?”

The burn on my neck only intensified, as if those hands were wrapping there again, pushing me under, but I refused to sink into that disintegrating memory. No, not now.

“I know that they know,” I said quietly.

The lines between his brows tightened.

“I know,” I repeated, “and I was the one who asked them not to tell me.”

“Why the hell would you do that for?” He shot out, frustration scraped against every syllable, tearing the air between us.

So, for once, I explained. 

FLASHBACKS

“Why won’t anyone believe me?” I cried out, looking at Grandpa through a blur of tears. His face was so anguished, carved with lines I wasn’t old enough to understand yet. “Why don’t you believe me?” I sobbed, reaching for his shirt with shaking hands. “Please…just—”

He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing my tears in frantic strokes.

“That’s not it,” he whispered, his voice splintering. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, sweetheart, please just—”

He tried to breathe, but every tear spilling down my cheeks carved deeper into him, making him look older, defeated, frightened.

“Every time I tell you what happened on that day, you end up in here, I just can’t...I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see you go through this anymore.”

“I told you, I swear I did, this is not the first time, but whenever I do, you…somehow, you erase it from your mind, and your health spirals again, and your mother puts you back in here,” His gaze flicked around the hospital room, the machines, the cold walls that felt too loud and too white.

“I keep fighting her on this, I do, every time…I don’t want you to stay here, where they poke you, scan you, test you, pretend to treat you as if they know what they’re doing.”

I sniffled, hiccupping, my tears spilling again, my fingers gripping his shirt like it could hold me together. He brushed my hair from my face with shaking fingers.

“I won’t let them do this to you,” he said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”

I looked at him, so broken, so fed up. “Grandpa, what’s wrong with me?”

Mom never said it to my face, but I always heard her, especially when she fought with him, calling me abnormal, calling me defective, that I needed to be treated…

Grandpa’s eyes reddened instantly, redder than I had ever seen them.

He shook his head hard, pulling me into his chest, wrapping his big, warm arms around me like he wanted to build a wall with his body, protect me from everyone, including myself.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said. “Do you hear me?” he whispered into my hair, holding me tighter. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

He kissed the top of my head, his voice breaking completely now. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t you dare believe it. Not ever.“

I clung to him with everything I had. He was the only steady thing in my life, the only one I could lean into.

“Aylin, sweetheart,” he whispered after a moment, his voice so low. “Do you trust me?”

I looked up at him through blurry eyes, and I knew, with a certainty that lived deep in my chest, that I did. I nodded, again and again.

He cupped my cheek with a trembling hand. “Then trust me in this, and let’s never speak of that day ever again,” he said. “Because I can’t keep watching you break like this every time. I can’t—” His voice cut off, his throat tightening. “If you get bad again…I won’t be able to fight your mother anymore. I won’t be able to stop her from…from locking you in here.”

He looked away for a second, and the pain on his face…god, I’d never seen him like that.

“This is how…this is how I lost your grandma. They thought they were helping her,” he whispered, his eyes going distant. “Treating her, fixing her, containing whatever they couldn’t understand, but they didn’t see her dying, withering away.”

His gaze dropped to his hands. “My wife…she broke in front of me, and I let them do it. I listened to the doctors, to everyone who said they knew better.”

His eyes glazed with tears, a sight so rare it carved itself into me.

“I made all the wrong choices,” he said, “I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was doing the right thing.” He shook his head, “Till she couldn’t…just couldn’t take it anymore.”

He pressed a hand over mine, gripping it so tightly. “I live with that guilt every single day,” he whispered. “And I will not, I cannot, let the same thing happen to you.”

“I won’t survive losing you, too, sweetheart.”

My heart broke into pieces, and I rested my hand on top of his. “You won’t lose me, I promise.”

He nodded, a somber, faint smile curving his lips. “Then, let’s make a deal, just you and me,” He said, “We never speak of that day again.”

I nodded, “We won’t.”

“I’ll be here,” he vowed, squeezing my hand as if sealing it. “Always, if you need me, if anything happens at all, come to me, before anyone else.”

I nodded, my tears still spilling, but for the first time in a long time…I felt something lighten inside me.

“We’ll show your mother you’re stronger. Better,” he murmured, “With time, she’ll see it, see you, understand you, and she’ll realize you don’t need any of this.”

“And until that day comes,” he said, thumb stroking my cheek gently, “I’ll stand between you and her, between you and every name they try to put on you, between you and the whole world.”

END OF FLASHBACKS

I exhaled shakily, grounding myself in the present.

“After that day,” I finished, my voice softer than I meant it to be, “we never brought it up again.”

I gave Nathan a little piece of my past and watched bewilderment twist with the darkness in his eyes.

He stared at me for a long, heavy minute, his brows drawn, his mind racing the way only his dark, feral mind could. Then his jaw clenched, once, hard.

“And you just…trusted him?” he gritted out. “Took his words for it?”

I nodded.

It worked, because. It did. Grandpa had picked up the shattered pieces of me, gathered whatever was left of my wavering sanity, and stitched it back together with nothing but his patience and belief. He made me feel normal again, fully in control again.

Slowly…the lapses stopped. The blank-outs faded, and the fear quieted.

For years, everything stayed still.

Not till…recently, just recently, for some reason, they came back again, stronger than ever…

Fire snapped to life behind Nathan’s eyes, so bright and violent.

“Why did you trust him?” he snarled. “What if he’s the one who hurt you? What if he’s been covering for himself this whole time?”

“No,” I shot back instantly. “He would never hurt me. You don’t know him—”

“I know enough to know that people fucking lie!” he cut in.

“You don’t, you don’t know him,” I insisted, “But I do!”

The last thread of my composure snapped. “And today, because of you, because I didn’t believe him, didn’t accept what he accused you of, I ended up fighting with him.” My chest constricted, “I fought with him for you, Nathan. But you—”

I shook my head, “You don’t even care. You don’t think twice before you go and hurt the people around me.”

“Aylin, you don’t fucking get it—”

“I do,” I cut him off,  “I do get it, so now you need to stop, you will not chase the truth. You will leave them alone. This is my past. If I don’t want to open it, then you have no right to pry it open either.”

His jaw locked, and that darkness in him pulsed.

“You don’t get it,” he repeated, seething now, barely holding onto himself. “You don’t get a goddamn thing.”

He stepped toward me, his breath ragged, “You’re getting worse, Aylin,” he said. “Every day, every fucking day, you’re slipping further.”

“Don’t you see it?” His voice cracked with something wild, utterly unhinged. “It’s not psychological. It’s not just in your head. It’s not.” He said. “There is something physically wrong with you, and I don’t…I don’t fucking understand it. I don’t know what it is, but everything I’ve been reading, every theory, every possibility—”

He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, “—Aylin, it’s been giving me fucking nightmares.”

His control had slipped, snapped, completely. He was frustrated like never before and was losing all of his composure.

He brought his hands and held my face, forcing my gaze onto his, onto the fear burning underneath all that rage.

“There is something not right,” he rasped.

He edged closer, his eyes dark, anguished, painfully, terrifyingly similar to Grandpa’s look all those years ago.

“There is something not normal here.”

Not normal...just like mom’s words.

My stomach plummeted. Nathan didn’t notice it, he was too far gone in his head.

“Whatever it is, we need to get it out of you. So, let me take you to a doctor, Aylin. We need to find out what’s wrong and fix it…before it’s too late.”

Wrong.

Fix it.

The room tilted. My vision blurred, a sting rushed up my throat, and heat pricked behind my eyes.

A choked breath slipped out as the first tear fell, then another, and another.

Nathan’s gaze followed them, and something in his expression twisted. His grip on my face tensed, his fingers tightening.

He hated my tears, for some reason, almost like they unmade him.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his wrists, gently pulling them away from my face. “I need to go, I need to leave…” I mumbled. “I…I don’t want to stay with you right now.”

The urge hit me like a punch. The door, the air, anywhere that wasn’t here.

I didn’t care about my things. I didn’t care about going out barefoot. I just needed out. Out, out, out—

I stepped back, reached for the doorknob, but before my fingers even closed around it, his palm slammed against the door, shoving it shut with a force that rattled the frame.

I spun back to him, and what I expected to see wasn’t what I found. There was no anger on his face, no darkness in his eyes, just…worry.

“You can’t go,” He said, quietly, “not when you’re like this.”

I felt like the walls were shrinking, I felt suffocated, like I’d burst if I stayed. I needed out.

But he’d said it himself just a couple of minutes ago. I didn’t have a choice, and god help me…I believed he’d lock me in if that’s what it took.

My jaw clenched, and I looked around, deciding against poking the monster.

I looked back at him and sucked in a deep breath, my chest sinking in. “Today has been a lot, I just need a moment alone,” I said, “Let me go to your room for a bit, I just…need to freshen up, gather myself, and then we can talk.”

His jaw ticked, reluctant, but he finally nodded and stepped back.

I didn’t wait for him to say more and went up the stairs, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear myself think. I reached his room and closed the door behind me, pressing my back to it.

I stood there, waiting, listening, seeing if he’d follow.

If he wouldn’t let me walk out the front door…Well, I have other ways.

Even if he wouldn’t actually lock me in, I wasn’t going to wait long enough to find out if he would.

The moment I was certain he was still downstairs, I darted inside, grabbed my phone and bag, scooped up my shoes, and made a beeline for the balcony.

The cold night air slapped my face the second I pushed the glass door open. It sent a shiver down my spine, sobering me up.

His balcony overlooked the back yard, not high enough to kill me, but high enough to hurt if I slipped. It didn’t matter. I needed out.

I swung my legs over the railing, clutching the metal with trembling fingers. One hand held my bag tight against my body. The other steadied me as my feet searched for the narrow ledge below.

I climbed down carefully, trying not to make a single sound, half blind from tears, half fueled by adrenaline, landing on the lower ledge with a soft thud. My fingers stung where the stone scraped them.

I didn’t stop.

I dropped the rest of the way, stumbling into a crouch, the pain shooting sharply through my knees. I bit back a whimper, quickly shoved my feet into my shoes, and straightened up.

Then, without looking back once, I ran.

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Nathan’s POV

I don’t know how long I stood there after she went upstairs.

A minute.

Ten.

A fucking lifetime.

Everything in me was malfunctioning, glitching, short-circuiting, spiraling so violently I couldn’t tell what was panic and what was fury. My chest felt too tight, like my ribs were trying to crush my heart before she could do it again.

I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing in a tight line across the floor, feeling my pulse slam so hard it made my vision blur. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my brain was a broken radio…static, static, static, nothing fucking clear.

She took more out of me in five damn minutes than anyone has in my entire goddamn life.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

The reason behind my glitching brain, my slipping control, my wavering composure…was her. Only her.

After I dropped her off at her grandfather’s, I should’ve gone straight to her mother. I should’ve made good on my promises, should’ve let hell loose on that woman because her deadline passed. I should’ve done what I’m good at, destruction, retaliation, and fear.

But no.

Instead, I ended up drowning in medical journals, case studies, papers, books…reading until the words blurred, trying to figure out what was happening to her, what was taking her away from me.

Then, I came back here to all of this…

Best fucking date ever, right?

Minutes passed by, and when she didn’t come back, the worst scenarios cooked themselves up in my head. The fear of her slipping back into her head, getting herself harmed in any way, had me rushing up the stairs before my mind could talk me out of it.

I reached the door to my room and knocked once, “Aylin?”

No answer.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, my eyes scanning every inch of the room. Before I could even think to check the bathroom, a breeze hit me. I turned around to find that the balcony door was wide open.

My eyes widened, and I rushed outside, looking around…she wouldn’t have, right? She fucking wouldn’t—

It’s not like I am keeping her captive, for god’s sake. Did she actually run away?

And yeah, maybe I told her she didn’t have a choice, but that was me trying to deflect all the fucking damage she inflicted on me today. Apparently, she took it literally. Fucking great.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket, my fingers flying as I opened the outside cameras app. I scrubbed through the last few minutes of footage, and then froze. I watched her climb her way down before she ran away…like I was some monster she needed to escape.

My vision blurred, and for a split second, I only saw red behind my lids.

What the actual fuck?

I didn’t waste a second and rushed downstairs, then outside, trying to figure out which way she might’ve taken. Fuck, she was all shaken up, and despite my anger, I needed to find her before she got hurt in any way.

I pulled the camera feed from the driveway, scrolled backward, and caught the last glimpse of her turning right at the end of the road.

Fifteen minutes ago.

Why the hell didn’t I go after her the second she went quiet upstairs?

I didn’t waste more time. I bolted to my car, slid inside, slammed the door, revved the engine, and peeled out onto the street.

I took the turn she had, scanning every sidewalk, every empty patch of pavement, every shadow like she might materialize out of thin air if I stared hard enough.

She wasn’t there.

I kept driving, checking every branching street she could’ve taken, every possible escape route. At the end of the road, I found a small taxi stand under a flickering streetlight. Well…that made sense.

Her car wasn’t here. I’d dropped her off at her grandfather’s, and she had texted me that his driver would bring her back to my place.

She must’ve taken a cab. She wouldn’t stay on foot in this cold weather…right?

I pulled over so fast the tires screeched. I slammed the door behind me and approached the two drivers. I asked if they’d seen her, described her quickly, nothing too detailed, but they both looked utterly clueless. Said no girl had passed by. Said they’d been there for the past hour.

My heart wasn’t beating anymore, it was slamming.

I got back in the car, pulled my phone out again, and dialed Adam.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Get to Aylin’s apartment,” I ordered before he could speak, my voice cold. “Now. Wait outside. Call me the second she shows up, not a minute later.”

I hung up, threw the car into gear, and took off again, hunting the next street, the next corner, the next ghost of her.

I was going to find her, and god help anyone who tried to get to her before I did

╰── ✦ ──╮

Three hours passed. Three fucking hours, and still no sign of her. She didn’t go to her apartment. She wasn’t on any street, and I had driven every possible route she could’ve taken, twice, three times, until the city became a blur.

The only working theory left is that she got into a passing-by cab and went somewhere else. If not her house…then where the hell would she go?

Adam told me her mother was in D.C. for a case. Aylin didn’t have many friends, none she saw outside of work. The girl kept her world small, painfully small.

Which left only one place.

The tires screeched as I slammed the brakes, pulling up to the house. I didn’t care about the time, didn’t care if I woke the entire neighborhood.

I stormed up to the door and banged on it hard enough to rattle the frame, again, again, and again. I was one second away from tearing the fucking door off its hinges.

The old butler finally opened it, his face pale, his breath rattled from the force of my knocking. His expression hardened the second he recognized me, “We’re under strict orders not to let y—”

He didn’t finish.

Because I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back into the wall so fast he wheezed. My knife was out before he even blinked, the blade pressing against his throat, “Do I look like I give a damn?”

His eyes widened in terror, but I didn’t care. He was irrelevant and just in my way.

I let him go and stepped farther inside, scanning the house. “Aylin?” I called out, my voice ricocheting off the walls, louder the second time. “Aylin, are you here?”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Her grandfather appeared, and the second he saw me, his entire face twisted into rage.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he barked, charging forward despite his age. His hand fisted in the front of my shirt, trying to yank me back as if he had any power over me. “Get out of my house—”

I seized him by the front of his shirt and shoved him into the nearest wall. The back of his head hit it with a crack, and the picture frame above us rattled on its hook.

My pulse roared in my ears.

Calm the fuck down. You can’t hurt him, remember?

Breathe in, breathe out…

I exhaled through my nose, long and trembling with restraint, and loosened my hold just enough for him to breathe.

“Where is Aylin?” I bit out, “Is she here?”

His brows drew together, genuine confusion pulling at his features. “What do you…” His eyes widened, the confusion morphing into worry, and fear, “Where is she?” He shot out, “What did you do to her? Where is she?!”

That told me everything.

She wasn’t here, either.

I let him go, stepping back, my chest rising too fast as I rushed back outside. I heard him calling after me, shouting questions.

I ignored him.

I got into my car and drove away.

╰── ✦ ──╮

Six hours.

Six…hours.

Every nerve in my body was throbbing, every cell vibrating.

My throat was raw, from breathing too fast, from holding myself together by sheer force.

I was running out of places to search, out of streets, out of theories, out of time, and I was starting to come apart.

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather creaked under my palms. I’d been on the road for six hours straight. Six hours of circling the same streets, checking the same corners, repeating the same desperate routes like a damn lunatic.

There wasn’t a place I hadn’t driven through.

Not a single dark alley I hadn’t slowed in.

Not a single crook or cranny left unsearched.

And still…nothing.

I called her so many times, but her phone was off. I should’ve put a tracker on that fucking thing. How the hell did I not—

My mind was no longer useful. It wasn’t even functional. It was just a carousel of negative thoughts spinning too fast to catch.

She was hurt. Someone hurt her. She fell. She fainted. She blanked out. She harmed herself. She’s lying somewhere I can’t find her. She’s alone. She’s scared. She’s—

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the wheel so tight I was convinced it would crack under my hands.

I’d told Adam to stay near her house, in case she showed up. He’d sent two more guys to check every hospital in the damn area.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

Now it was five-thirty in the morning, and I was parked outside her apartment building, drained to the bone, with no clue what the hell I was supposed to do next.

I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. Her picture stared back at me, her soft eyes, soft smile, soft everything that drove me to the brink of insanity.

My thumb brushed over her face, and…god, I should’ve kept my mouth shut today, should’ve strangled the words in my throat before asking that one thing from her.

Before I could think myself out of it, I went to my contacts. With the time difference, it was probably noon over there.

I hit dial and let the phone ring through the car speakers. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the cold steering wheel, my eyes falling shut.

“Nathan?” Christian’s voice echoed through the car, filled with confusion. “Isn’t it a bit too early there? What’s going on?”

“Christian,” I mumbled, “I feel like I’m losing my mind again.”

“Wha…” He inhaled sharply, his voice softening, “Is this about…tomorrow?”

Tomorrow?

I cracked my eyes open, squinting at the date on my phone screen. I hadn’t even realized what tomorrow was. I’d been so absorbed in her that for the first time in my entire life, I hadn’t been dreading tomorrow.

My jaw clenched, and I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me, “No, not that,” I mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice shifting instantly into concern. “Did something happen?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. A lot of fucking things happened.

He must’ve sensed something in my breathing, because he went unnervingly quiet.

“Nathan,” he said slowly, carefully, “tell me what happened.”

“She ran,” I muttered.

“Who…wait—she what?” he sounded utterly baffled.

“She ran,” I repeated, “Out the fucking balcony.”

“Jesus Christ. Why? What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “Pick a category. Emotional toxic damage? Arson? Mayhem? I hit the fucking trifecta.”

“Mate, what the hell—but why would she jump off the balcony?”

“I don’t know,” I grumbled, “maybe because I insinuated I might lock her in the house if I had to?”

“You what?”

“I said insinuated, not promised. Jesus.”

“That’s not better,” he shot back immediately. “In what universe is that better?”

I slammed my forehead against the steering wheel with a thud.

Christian sighed. “Just to be clear and avoid any future confusion, we are talking about some girl, right? Not a cat or something? Because this whole jumping off the balcony thing is throwing me off.”

“Yes, a girl, don’t act clueless,” I grumbled.

“A girl, you say…” He hummed, “Which girl?”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” He said, trying to lighten up the mood on purpose, “also, you know I’ve been waiting years and years for this moment, right?”

“What moment?” I grumbled.

“The one where you call me at five in the morning because some girl finally dismantled you.”

“You know what, it’s my fault I called you.”

“Okay, okay,” Christian said, trying to sound serious. “Deep breaths—”

“No.”

“Nathan—”

“No,” I snapped again. “Breathing isn’t helping. I’ve been breathing for six fucking hours, and I’m still feral, and I can’t find her anywhere.”

Christian went quiet for a beat, “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found?”

I shook my head, “No, I can…I can feel it, something is wrong.”

Then, I told him, not everything, of course, just a few things that happened. The simplified version of today’s shitshow.

He let out a long, sharp exhale.

“Look, listen to me, why don’t you get inside, wait for an hour or two, and if she doesn’t come back then, call me again,” He said, the rational, methodical, always-with-a-plan Christian. This dude was so annoying, I don’t think I would’ve gotten this far without him.

“I’ll get there as soon as I can, and we’ll figure it out and find her,” he continued. “I promise.”

I nodded, “What if…what if something had happened to her?” I couldn’t even fathom the thought.

“Nothing happened,” He said, as if too sure.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because,” he said, “I still need to make fun of you for this, and I refuse to miss that opportunity. So she’s definitely fine. Now come on, listen to me.”

“Okay, you prick.”

He chuckled lowly, “Call me, alright?”

I sighed, exhausted beyond anything I’d ever felt. “I will.”

I ended the call with Christian, and for a moment, I just sat there as I grasped back my control. Finally, I pushed myself out of the car and walked into her building. She kept a spare key behind the plant stand. I’d noticed it weeks ago, because of course I did. I pick up every detail about her, whether I want to or not.

I grabbed it, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Her soft scent hit me instantly. God, it fucking punched the air out of my lungs.

I walked deeper into the apartment and stopped by the kitchen counter, bracing my elbows against it. My head fell into my hands, my fingers dragging over my face.

I wasn’t a praying man, nor a god-preacher by any stretch. If there was some external force up there, some god or fate or divine scriptwriter, then it had already taken everything from me before I even knew how to hold it.

I learned young that no one was coming to save me, no one was watching over me, that no one gave a damn.

So, I never begged, never asked for anything I couldn’t take by force.

But now…if there was a god out there, or any pathetic cosmic force listening…I asked it for one thing. Don’t harm her. Harm me instead. I can handle pain, I’m made from it, stitched together with it, but the second that pain creeps into her veins, the second it lays even a finger on her…

I exhaled shakily, shaking the bad thoughts away, dragging my hands down until my palms rested flat on the counter.

My eyes fell on a notepad of sorts, resting next to those ugly candles she always has on. It was thin, half-open, and covered in many sticky notes, pink, yellow, and blue.

My eyebrows pulled closer, and I picked it up.

The first note was harmless enough:

“Thursday: Buy milk. Don’t forget. (Put reminder TWICE).”

The next:

“Call Grandpa back. He sounded tired.”

Then:

“Remember to turn off the stove.
Check twice.
We don’t want last time repeating.”

My stomach twisted as I flipped the pages, reading more and more. These weren’t grocery lists. These weren’t normal reminders. Every note had a date scribbled in the corner, and every line felt like a breadcrumb trail.

A way back to herself…in case her mind decided not to let her return.

My fingers froze on the next one:

“If I wake up confused:
– Check date and time
– Drink water
– Sit down and breathe
– Call Grandpa
You’re okay.”

My throat constricted.

I flipped another.

“If I forget where I put my keys: calm down.
There’s a spare in the plant outside.”

Then another.

“If I forget what I was doing…don’t cry.
Just breathe and start again.”

I kept flipping, reading every single scrap of her handwriting.

“The new tea in the drawer…Nathan bought it.
Thank him when you see him.”

Then below it:

“Don’t thank him.
Never mind.
He hates that word. Psycho.”

Then another.

“Nathan made you angry today,
Don’t forgive him so easily.”

Under it was:

“You forgave him,
The asshole, I don’t know how he does it.”

My lips twitched painfully, and the next note was tucked halfway under another, small and fading:

“He makes you feel safe,
don’t forget that…”

Safe.

My jaw clenched. She sure didn’t feel safe when she jumped off the balcony and ran away from me.

I stared down at the notepad, breathing too hard, too uneven. This girl…this maddening, stubborn, beautiful princess of mine, she had been stitching together her world with sticky notes, and somewhere in between this and that, she was stitching me into it too.

Like I was something wort—

Click.

The sound of the lock turning cut through every thought of mine. The notepad slipped from my fingers, hitting the counter with a muted thud, and my head snapped up so fast my vision blurred.

The door opened.

My eyes fell on my favorite shade of green, the secret garden I thought had burned to ash. She blinked back at me, her eyes red, glassy, worn to the edges like she’d been crying for hours.

Something broke inside my chest. Fuck no, not broke, not cracked…it fucking detonated.

In that second, I understood something horrifyingly clear. She should not feel safe with me, she shouldn’t trust me, because I might really lock her in a tower far away and never let her out of my sight again.

I was unhinged, obsessed, fully and utterly fucking gone.

She froze when she saw me, for one small, fragile beat.

A low, breathy sound tore out of her throat, and she quickly rushed inside, running to me. I met her halfway, and she crashed into my chest so hard it knocked the air out of me, her arms wrapping around me like she was terrified I’d disappear if she let go.

I dragged her into me, into my ribs, into the hollow she’d carved open inside me, into the place I didn’t even know existed before her.

She sobbed against me, clutching at my shirt with shaking fingers.

“You’re okay…” I whispered, the words scraping out of me. My eyes pressed shut. “You’re okay…” Maybe I was saying it for her, or maybe for myself.

I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in like it was oxygen, like inhaling her would stitch my cracked lungs back together. I pulled her closer, and closer, as if I could fuse her into me, seal her under my skin, keep her there where nothing could touch her.

She pulled back just enough for me to see her. Her cheeks were flushed red, her tears falling in thick, endless rivers, her eyes swollen and tortured and drowning. “Nathan,” She mumbled so brokenly I nearly lost it.

I held her face between my hands, my thumbs wiping at the tears I couldn’t stand, “Where were you?”

She shook her head helplessly, looking up at me like a child lost. “I don’t…I don’t know.” Her eyes pressed shut, and more tears fell, a low, pained sob tearing out of her trembling lips.

I pulled her back into my chest, trying to hold her together. “You were right. I’m sorry—I’m…” She mumbled between her tears, and I held her, “There is something wrong in me, there is….”

“Aylin, that’s not—”

“There is,” she cried more, her words shaking apart. “There is. Please help me…help me get it out. I can’t—” She broke down in my arms, and I didn’t know what to feel or do anymore. “I can’t do this anymore.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hello 😉
An early update as promised, but a sad update, so don’t know whether that’s good or not.

I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless.
Both of them are unraveling, in their own way.
Let’s just hope they make it out alive xD

See ya soon! 🩶