Chapter 28

“I was built for her storms,
Born to match her ruin,
designed in whatever hell birthed me
to meet her fire with flame,
her drowning with a deeper ocean.“

Aylin’s POV

“Nathan?” I called out the moment I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“I’m back,” I murmured, the words slipping out soft and frayed from exhaustion.

My brows pulled together when no answer came back. I walked further in, scanning the space, looking left and right. I mean, his menacing presence was rarely ever subtle; it was impossible to miss, it filled rooms, thickened the air, and pressed itself into my skin.

But now?

Nothing.

Where the hell is he?

“Nathan?” I checked once more.

We’d texted before my flight. He told me to come here after landing, which, to be honest, wasn’t really a request. He barely lets me stay at my own apartment anymore, and if I do, I’m fully aware he’ll show up there anyway. Not that I mind.

I sighed, rolled my shoulders, and reached up to tug my hair loose from the ponytail that had been strangling my scalp for hours. Oh, sweet relief. My whole body felt drained, hollowed out by the long shifts, delays, and pretending to function on three hours of sleep.

A soft glow pulled me toward the kitchen, but he wasn’t there either. I was about to turn back when something on the counter caught my eye. Curiosity overpowered exhaustion, and I drifted forward, popping the lid of the container open.

A wave of warm, buttery sweetness hit me in the face. Oh, cake!

Homemade, too. The faint whiff of cinnamon rushed straight to my nose, and my mouth watered on instinct. I looked around, thinking Nathan would pop out of nowhere and scare me…he had those creepy tendencies.

When nothing happened, I shrugged and grabbed a knife, cut a small slice—medium, definitely medium—plopped it onto a plate, snagged a fork, and took a bite.

I mean…he wouldn’t mind, right?

I didn’t even get to ponder that thought because…oh my god. I might’ve moaned, just a little. This was so stupidly, unfairly tasty.

I took another bite as I walked out of the kitchen. Plate in hand, I climbed the stairs, chewing happily, sugar reviving my dying brain cells.

“Nathan?” I called again around a mouthful. “Are you here?”

A faint strip of light glowed beneath his bedroom door.

Ah, there you are.

I nudged the door open, still chewing. “Nathan, I found a cake downstairs, and I took a piece without asking, but it’s so yummy, who made—”

The rest of the sentence died on my tongue.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, a notebook open in his hands. His head was bowed, reading, his shoulders unnervingly still.

He didn’t react at first, didn’t look up, didn’t hear me, didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“Nathan?” I said again, my voice softening without my permission.

He blinked, slow, and disoriented, like he’d been yanked out of a place far, far away. Then he lifted his head, and my heart dropped straight through me.

His face was…pale, just so pale. His eyes looked wrong, not his usually sharp, wild, teasing eyes, no, they were distant, lost in a place I couldn’t see nor reach.

I set the plate on the dresser and crossed the room in two quick strides.

“Nathan,” I whispered, crouching down, cupping his cheek, “hey…what’s wrong?”

His eyelids dropped at my touch, not a blink, but a slow, collapsing fall, like the weight behind them finally dragged him under. A low, fractured breath pushed out of him, like he just remembered he had to breathe to survive.

His jaw clenched once…twice…trembling subtly beneath my palm before he forced his eyes open again.

His gaze met mine, but it wasn’t my chaotic, infuriating, arrogant man staring back. No, this was a version of Nathan I didn’t recognize at all, as if someone had taken a piece of him and didn’t bother giving it back.

My thumb brushed along his jaw, coaxing him back. “What’s wrong?” I asked again, because something was not right.

He shook his head, shut the notebook, pushed it aside, and whispered, “You’re finally back.”

Before I could answer, his hand slid to my waist, then to my lower back. With a gentle pull, he guided me closer, shifting me over his thigh. His grip tightened just enough to lift me that final inch so I’d settle fully in his lap.

His chest stayed rigid, but his warm body made all the room for me.

As soon as I sank into him, he leaned in, his forehead brushing my temple first, then his lips ghosted against my cheek, so soft, ghostlike, nothing like the hungry, possessive Nathan I knew.

“I missed you,” he murmured into my skin, and his voice…God, it was drained, like the words were falling straight out of him without the strength to hold onto them.

“Me too,” I whispered, trying to search his face, his eyes, anything that would tell me where he was hurting.

His arm came around my back, pulling me tighter against his chest. I lifted a hand to his face, brushing a stray piece of hair from his forehead, letting my fingertips linger against his skin.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head, dismissing it,  far too quickly, “Nothing important.”

I bit my tongue before the questions could spill out of me. I didn’t want to push him, not when he looked like this.

So instead, I leaned in and pressed a soft peck to his lips. Any other day, he’d pull me deeper, ruin the softness, turn the peck into a full assault on my mouth.

But he didn’t move.

His eyelids just fell shut, and his chest rose, then fell…but unevenly, like breathing itself was hard work. I didn’t understand a damn thing.

My hand drifted down from his cheek to his shoulder, then rested over his chest, right above his heart.

It wasn’t racing, wasn’t wild, wasn’t even steady. It felt… wounded, beating slowly and heavily.

A burn climbed up my throat. This sudden, feral instinct tore through me to find whatever did this to him and rip it apart with my bare hands, to destroy anything that had the audacity to hurt him like this.

My jaw tightened with the effort of holding the sudden feeling back.

I didn’t want him like this. I would take the arrogant tease, the dark menace, the unhinged Nathan, god, I’d take all of his chaos, over whatever this silent, tired version was.

I needed to shake him out of it, pull him back, bring my Nathan back.

I lifted my hand to his hair, brushing my fingers through the soft strands at the side of his head. His hair was messy in that unintentional way, like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times and somehow made it look better every single time.

“There’s a really yummy cake downstairs,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “You didn’t happen to learn baking while I was away, did you?”

He shook his head silently, unreactive still. I looked at the plate I had discarded away, “You should have a piece,” I looked back at him, tapping his cheek playfully with my hand, “it might even put a smile on this handsome face of yours.”

His eyebrow lifted, faintly, like he was fighting his way up from whatever storm he was drowning in.

“Handsome face?” he echoed, the barest spark flickering in his eyes.

I nodded. “Uh-huh. You know you have a handsome face, don’t act surprised.”

“Sure, I do know that,” he muttered, and there it was, his voice gaining the slightest hint of life again. “But it’s rare for you to compliment me. I need a minute to comprehend it.”

I scoffed softly, narrowing my eyes at him in mock offense. “Shall I give you the full list of things I like about you, then? But I’m only doing it once,” I shook my head, “I refuse to repeat it again.”

His lips twitched, an almost-smile. “Go ahead.”

I smiled and shifted in his lap to face him fully. The moment I moved, he corrected my position like it was instinct, one arm tightening around my waist, the other adjusting my hips as he leaned back against the headboard, pulling me with him as if I weighed nothing.

I ended up straddling him, still caged in by his arms, still pressed against his chest where his heartbeat felt uneven and too human for him.

“Okay, fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Number one, your face. Very handsome. Ten out of ten, would stare at for a long time and not get bored,” I covered his face playfully with my hand, “might even make it my screensaver.”

Nathan exhaled through his nose like he was trying very hard not to smile. He kissed the inside of my palm and mumbled, “I’m aware.”

“Number two,” I continued, moving my hand from his face and running my fingers through his hair, “your hair. It’s ridiculously soft,” I narrowed my eyes at him, “and don’t even pretend you use any products. I know you just grab whatever bottle is closest and call it a day.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Correct.”

I huffed and tugged gently at a strand, my voice lowering, ever so annoyed, “So unfair, meanwhile, I spend half of my income on hair products.”

My lips formed a pout, and I shook my head with a sigh, “Anyways, number three…” I resumed, “I like it when you…uhm…sometimes act so uncharacteristically sweet and considerate, very rare, but very impressive.”

He blinked at me. “Sometimes?”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” I said, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but I kept going, “And number four,” I added, my list seemingly endless, “your sense of humor, which is terrible, objectively. But sometimes you accidentally make me laugh, so I’ll allow it.”

His eyebrow raised, “That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”

“No, no,” I corrected helpfully, “I’ve given you worse, this one was almost nice.”

Nathan stared at me, deadpan, but I could feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, could feel the tension in his body easing the more I spoke, like I was peeling him out of whatever dark place he’d been sitting in while I was away.

“Let’s stop before you bruise my ego further,” he muttered. “You clearly didn’t understand the assignment.”

I shrugged innocently. “I’m doing amazing,” I flipped my hair ever so playfully, “Your smile says so.”

His expression softened, and he exhaled like he hated how much he needed this…needed me.

“We need to do something about your flight schedule,” he said, his fingers brushing over my waist in slow, absent-minded patterns. “I didn’t appreciate you being away from me for that long.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s my job.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, and? Tell me who I have to threaten or kill to fix this.”

I blinked, horrified.

He blinked back, completely serious.

“Nathan,” I scolded, “no one, absolutely no one. You can’t just threaten people when life doesn’t go your way.”

“Sure, I can,” he said, deadpan confidence dripping from every word. “Been doing that my whole life. It’s simple, princess, if I want something, I more often than not get it.” He shrugged, “People don’t like disappointing me.”

And there he was…my unhinged wolf returning.

“I wonder why,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head at this menace.

His gaze dipped down slowly, deliberately, dragging over my uniform, “Remember when you were wearing this same outfit when we first met,” His hand came up, two fingers slipping under the collar of my shirt, tugging it open just enough to peek inside, ever so shamelessly.

My eyes widened, “Nathan!” I slapped his hand away, scandalized, which only encouraged him.

He grinned fully, finally. “Well, I remember it very well, because I wanted you on that plane back then…” He winked, “and I got you.”

“You’re so spoiled, you know that,” I pointed out, poking his chest.

He nodded without an ounce of shame, “Yeah, and I don’t like to share.”

His hand lifted, brushing my hair away from my neck. His fingers settled lightly against my skin, right over the fluttering point of my pulse, brushing it softly. “So, princess, I don’t appreciate sharing you with the rest of the world.”

I stared at him, torn between irritation, amusement, and the overwhelming urge to scratch his handsome face, “Nathan,” I grumbled.

“What?” he said, perfectly innocent. “I’m openly expressing my emotions, you should be proud of me,” He added, “This is growth.”

I shook my head, sighing loudly, “You’re so unhealthy for me, you know that?” I joked, though it was painfully true.

He nodded immediately. “Oh, absolutely. I’m unhealthy for society in general.”

“And you know what’s worse?” I leaned in, letting my fingers trace the line of his neck, feeling the way he sucked in a slow breath. “I don’t think I care.” I really didn’t anymore. Like I said once, I’d probably stay under that bed and burn with him…

My smile climbed as I looked up at him. “I’m kind of unhealthy for you, too.”

His lips curled, so wicked and soft all at once. “Oh, princess…” he murmured, “You’re my favorite poison.”

His fingers slid to my jaw, tilting my face up just a fraction.

“And the worst part?” he added, his thumb brushing my lower lip, “I’ll drink every drop of you.”

My throat tightened, and I shook my head, pouting. “No. I don’t want to…poison you.”

It was a mere metaphor, but it was real nevertheless. The thought of hurting him again, of losing minutes, hours of my mind, and hurting him in the middle of that chaos, twisted painfully inside me.

His expression flickered, barely, but his fingers stroked down my neck in slow, soothing lines, grounding me back into his hands.

He tilted his head, trying to shift the conversation elsewhere, “Now, back to our important topic, what are we going to do about your schedule?”

I shot him a glare, “Nothing, you will do absolutely nothing.”

He didn’t even pretend to be satisfied.

His eyebrow arched. “Why did you want to become a flight attendant, anyway?”

I shrugged, offering the obvious answer first. “It sounded cool? Traveling the world for free?”

He stared at me like he was waiting for the real answer.

I inhaled, my shoulders sinking. “Okay, fine…also to piss off my mother.”

That grabbed his attention instantly.

“And,” I added quietly, gulping down as I warily eyed him, “there’s a third reason I won’t say out loud…because you’ll get angry.”

He stilled, his eyes sharpening, the teasing draining, and his entire smile dropped.

His jaw flexed. “Yeah,” he muttered, “Don’t.”

His fingers tightened slightly where they held me, then loosened with a controlled breath. “Anyway,” he forced out, “piss off your mother how?”

“Well,” I said, exhaling slowly, “she wanted me to be a lawyer like her, or at least do something that would get me into grandpa’s business.”

My fingers played with the collar of his T-shirt, busying my hands, “She and I…we always had a complicated relationship, so this—” I gestured vaguely, “felt like rebellion, and it worked. It pissed her off beautifully.”

Nathan gave me a pointed look, “and you got mad at me for innocently threatening her?”

I shoved his shoulder. “There is nothing innocent in your threats.”

He shrugged, unconvinced.

“Besides,” I added softly, “despite everything, I love her, and I know she loves me, in her own way. We just…don’t agree on a lot, that’s all.”

A breath fell out of me, my gaze dropping to his chest. “Also, I’m not the easiest kid to have,” I whispered, shrugging weakly, “I can’t really blame her for not knowing how to handle or deal with…me.”

I looked back up at him, realizing how, somehow, sharing these little details with him was becoming effortless.

“It’s too bad I don’t come with an instruction manual, huh?” I tried to joke, smiling faintly. “Would’ve saved everyone the trouble.”

His entire expression changed, sharpened, darkened, and softened all at once.

“Aylin,” He said, his voice final, “there is nothing wrong with you that requires instructions.”

He slid his hand up my spine, curling it behind my neck, pulling me closer. “If she made you feel otherwise,” he muttered, his voice dipping into that dangerous tone he only ever used in my defense, “that’s on her. Not you. She didn’t fail because you were difficult,” He added, “She failed because she didn’t know what she was doing.”

My heart clenched painfully.

“And if she couldn’t deal with you?” he added, brushing a thumb under my chin, lifting it gently, “then she didn’t deserve you.”

I blinked, my breath wavering, warmth pooling beneath my ribs. “But,” I whispered, my voice small, “you handle me so well, how do you do it?”

“Handle you?” he murmured, not liking the word. He shook his head, and his fingers slid deeper into my hair. “Princess, I don’t handle you,” he said, his voice dark and almost smug. “I match you.”

“You drown, I dive.” He said, ever so serious, “You spark, I burn.”

“You unravel,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against mine, “and I unravel with you.”

I tried to regulate my breathing because this crazy man had an inexplicable talent for stealing it away every now and then.

“Well,” I managed, trying to sound playful so the ache under my ribs wouldn’t show, “if there’s anyone in this world built to survive me…it’s you.”

He pulled back just enough to smile, all wicked and too beautiful to be legal, “Yeah,” He said, savoring it, loving to be the exception in my life, “Only me.”

“So,” he continued, far too casually, “now that we’ve established this isn’t your dream job, you wouldn’t be that angry if I…let’s say…got you fired or something, right?”

I shoved him again and pushed myself out of his embrace. I shot him a glare, “Your logic blows me away,” I grumbled mockingly.

He smiled, “Yeah, I am so wise.”

Don’t scratch his face, Aylin, don’t…Breathe. In. Out.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, his hands raised slightly as if warding off my wrath, “what’s your dream job then?”

My eyebrows pulled together, thinking it through for too long, then I shrugged. “I’m not sure,” I said softly. “Well…I have this silly dream idea,” I hesitated, my cheeks warming, “but it’s not something I could do or would have, it’s just a…dream.”

“What is it?” He asked, always curious about every tiny, ridiculous detail of me, like each one was a piece of a puzzle he was determined to complete. And every time he did it, every time he wanted more of me, something in my chest tightened in this strange, painful, wonderful way.

I was still getting used to someone wanting me fully, the way Nathan does.

“Don’t make fun of me,” I warned, already embarrassed. “But I always dreamt of owning a bed-and-breakfast kind of place. You know, the cozy ones, away from the city, maybe in a forest or up in the mountains.”

I inhaled, letting the image form as I spoke.

“In my head, it’d be this big wooden cabin with a big stone fireplace,” I said, smiling without meaning to. “People from everywhere would stop by. They’d sit by the fire at night, drinking their hot cocoa, and it’d be snowing outside. Everything would smell like pine and cinnamon, and I’d decorate it all…Christmas-y and warm and—”

I sighed in contempt at the picture I’d painted. “I don’t know. It just feels peaceful, like a little world far away I could build for people to escape into and…”

I paused when I saw Nathan intently watching me, his eyes softer than ever, devastatingly so, almost breathless.

My face burned. “I know, it’s so silly,” I mocked myself, “I sound like a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

His brows knit together. “What’s that?”

I fake-gasped. “You’ve never watched a Hallmark Christmas movie before?”

His frown deepened, and he shook his head. I patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, the season is upon us. I’m gonna make you watch one every night.”

He looked genuinely alarmed. “Why does that sound like a punishment?”

I chuckled and nodded, already too excited by the idea of torturing him every night.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from me, already too embarrassed and too exposed, “What is your dream job, Mr. doctor-slash-businessman?”

The lines between his brow deepened as he seemed to think it through, too puzzled for once.

After a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t think I have any.”

I blinked, “None?”

He shook his head.

“There must be something,” I insisted gently. “Wasn’t at least one of them something you wanted to do or be?”

He shook his head, “No,” He mumbled, genuinely confused, “Like I told you before, I just needed things to keep my mind stimulated, but a dream…no, don’t think I have those.”

My heart pinched. “How come?”

He shrugged, “Well, growing up, I…” he shook his head, “I didn’t think I was going to survive this long, anyway, so dreaming felt pointless.”

My throat burned at the mere thought, “Was your…your lung condition there since you were young?” I asked softly, trying to understand him more, wanting to.

He nodded his head, “Yup.”

But then, because he’s Nathan and vulnerability is a foreign language he refuses to learn, he added dryly, “Turns out dying is boring when you do it slowly.”

“Nathan—”

“What?” he said, shrugging, too casual for such a serious conversation, “I mean, at first the doctor thought I wouldn’t make it to sixteen, then it was twenty…then twenty-five,” he sighed in boredom, “I stopped caring which number was supposed to kill me.”

“How did it happen…I mean, were you born with it or something?” I asked, prodded more, because I wanted to know everything.

He nodded, “Yeah, some scarred tissue in my lung, something about being born before my time and all,” His tone was detached, like he was reading someone else’s file instead of his own. “It was manageable, though, if I stuck to my meds and checkups, I’d be okay, and I was. I just got sick more than normal kids. Nothing too dramatic.”

“Then, what happened?” I asked because it felt there was more.

He inhaled slowly, so slowly it looked like it hurt, as if this part in exact stung him somehow.

“When I was nine or so, there was this…explosion,” He explained, “I was inside the building when it happened.”

Oh my god…

“The blunt force of it threw me away, cracked a few ribs, but my lung took most of it.” He added, “I was stuck inside for a bit after that, the smoke and chemicals…apparently, inhaling all of that doesn’t do wonders for a half-functional lung, per the doctor’s words back then.”

My stomach twisted painfully.

“They tried surgery afterward, but it didn’t help much. The more I grew, the bigger the scar became, and the faster my lung started to decay and fail.”

I swallowed hard, a burn rising behind my eyes. Sure, we all could die at any moment, but to grow up knowing the clock is ticking, feeling it inside your own chest, knowing it’s coming soon, waiting for it, felt cruel. Too cruel.

Nathan’s eyes focused on mine, and his eyebrow raised, “Don’t look at me like that.”

I sniffled, “Like what?” I mumbled, trying to swallow back my tears.

“Like you feel bad for me,” He said, “All is okay, princess, as you can see,” He gestured at himself with an almost arrogant sweep. “I am pretty much alive and breathing.”

“Well—” he added, tapping his chest lightly, “someone else’s lung is doing the breathing for me, but still. Technicalities.”

I brought my hand forward and rested it gently over his chest, right above the lung that’s keeping him alive, so very thankful for it. God. The thought that he could’ve…that I might’ve never met him. Oh no, the burn in my throat sharpened, and my eyes stung.

I looked up at him, letting my gaze linger on every line of his face. “You didn’t have time to dream about building a future. I get it,” I whispered, remembering his earlier words. “But you could start now.” I shook my head lightly. “It’s never too late.”

His lips twitched, something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t a frown either. He nodded, and for once, he didn’t ruin the moment with one of his menace-filled comments.

I swallowed and slowly slid my hand back from his chest. “Well, uhm,” I cleared my throat, “For the time being, you can share my dream with me, I’ll allow you that,” I said, attempting to keep my voice light.

His eyebrow raised, “Oh, really?”

I nodded proudly.

“So,” he drawled, “which role are you assigning me in your little bed-and-breakfast fantasy?”

I pretended to think, tapping my chin. “Well, I could make you the cook, you can prepare the food since you are a fast learner and all,” I suggested, “Or maybe you could mow the lawn,” I gave him a once-over, “You’d look hot in overalls, won’t you?”

He threw his head back and laughed, and for the first time since I got back, he looked genuinely okay. My heart settled in relief.

Then, without warning, his hands slid to my waist, and in one smooth, utterly Nathan move, he shifted his grip and flipped me back onto the mattress like I weighed nothing, always moving my body around as he pleased.

A small gasp broke from my throat as I landed on my back, my hair fanning around me.

He hovered above me, his eyes dark and bright all at once.

“You need to stop being so damn adorable,” he muttered, brushing a strand of my hair back, “or I really will lock you in here with me.”

I grinned up at him. “I can’t stop that. You know it’s my superpower.”

He huffed out a laugh through his nose and lowered his face until our lips were a breath apart. “You and your superpowers will be the end of me,” he murmured, brushing his mouth against mine, smiling into the kiss like he couldn’t help it.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened it, slow and firm in a gentle way I wasn’t used to from him.

Between kisses, “You know,” he whispered against my mouth, shattering my heart and melting it all at once, “You’re the only reason I’m thankful I’ve survived this long.”

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

I blinked my eyes open, disoriented and heavy. Darkness still pooled around the room. I could tell I’d only been asleep an hour, maybe two. My brain felt wrapped in fog, my body not ready to wake up yet.

A low moan escaped me as I shifted, reaching out blindly for Nathan.

My fingers met cold sheets.

I frowned, blinking harder, trying to force my vision to adjust. Sitting up only made the faint ache behind my eyes sharpen, one of those headaches that had become too common lately, buzzing under my skull.

I rubbed my palms over my face, trying to chase away the haze as I pieced together the last thing I remembered. After we’d kissed and messed around for a bit, my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten in forever, so Nathan ordered me a pizza.

We sat on the floor of his living room, and I forced him to eat with me, talking in between bites, mostly him being his annoying, teasing self that I liked far too much. Then he noticed I was getting tired before I even realized it myself, and we went back to bed, earlier than usual.

I was just about to lie back down when a low cough cut through the quiet.

My head snapped up, and I turned to the left, where light seeped faintly from beneath the en-suite bathroom door.

“Nathan?” I whispered, quickly pushing my feet onto the cold floor. I shuffled toward the door, knocking softly before nudging it open.

I found him standing behind the sink as another strained cough tore from him. His hand went up to cover his mouth and muffle it. When it finally subsided, he pulled his hand back, and his gaze dropped to his palm.

He froze.

I couldn’t see what he saw.

“Nathan?” I whispered, worry threading through my voice as I stepped inside.

He tensed at the sound of me, but he didn’t turn. Instead, he flicked the faucet on and washed his hands, like rinsing away evidence.

I stopped beside him. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly, our earlier conversation about his health drawing the worst scenarios ever in my head.

He nodded without looking up, shutting the faucet off and drying his hands, “Yeah,” he muttered.

I reached for him anyway, but the second my hand touched his face, heat seared against my palm. My eyes widened. “Nathan…you’re burning up.”

His eyes fell on mine, too tired, that same look he had when I first arrived. He shook his head. “No, I’m fine,” he said softly, grabbing my wrist and gently pulling my hand away from his cheek.

Another cough ripped up his throat before he could stop it. He covered it and brushed past me, stepping out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

I followed him in a heartbeat.

He flicked on the bedside lamp, the yellow glow making the paleness of his skin stand out even more. He grabbed a napkin to his mouth, coughing into it again before opening the drawer and pulling out a medication bottle.

He shook a couple of pills into his palm and tossed them into his mouth with that same exhausted efficiency.

Panic fluttered under my ribs. I had no idea what else to do, so I grabbed the water bottle on the nightstand and poured him a glass, pushing it gently toward him.

He offered me a small, tired smile as he took it, swallowing the pills in one long drink.

I perched beside him on the bed, my eyes scanning him head to toe, as if staring hard enough might reveal what was wrong, and how the hell I was supposed to fix it.

“What can I do?” I whispered, feeling stupid and helpless and terrified.

He turned to me, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “Nothing, princess,” he murmured. “I’m fine.” His voice was thin, frayed…wrong, “This happens sometimes.”

Before I could ask more, he reached back into the drawer and pulled out a small vial and a syringe. My breath caught as he tore the syringe package open, slid the needle into the vial, and drew the medication up with smooth, practiced hands.

He tapped the barrel lightly, pushing out a small bead of liquid.

My eyes widened in horror as he rolled up his sleeve, turned his arm, and pressed the needle to his skin.

“What are you doing?” I squeaked, my voice cracking with panic.

He didn’t even flinch as he pushed the medication into his vein, ever so slowly and controlled. “Relax,” he said, lifting an eyebrow at me like I was the unreasonable one. “Finished med school, remember?”

I swallowed hard, still unconvinced, my pulse racing like it was trying to do the breathing for both of us.

He capped the needle, tossed everything into some container in his drawer, then turned back to me. He took one look at my horrified expression and opened his other arm in silent invitation.

“Come here,” he murmured.

I moved closer automatically, gravity working overtime for him. He wrapped his arm around me with surprising strength, guiding us both down into the pillows. He flicked off the light, darkness settling around us again.

“I’m fine,” he whispered into my hair, his fingers combing gently through the strands. “I just need to rest, okay?”

His chest shook…barely, but I felt it, like it was hard for him to inhale and exhale.

“You too, get some sleep,” he added, softer still. “Okay?”

I curled into him, because what else could I do?

“Okay,” I whispered back, even though nothing in me felt okay.

I kept my eyes open, my ear pressed to his chest, counting each rise and fall like it might betray me at any second. My hand rested along the side of his neck, just under his jaw, waiting, begging, for his skin to cool down.

It didn’t.

A few minutes in, Nathan drifted off, far too quickly. I bet it had something to do with whatever he injected himself with.

Time passed painfully slow, and his skin didn’t cool…it only seemed to burn hotter.

Every few breaths, his chest rose and fell, and I felt these faint tremors through him, tiny shudders he wasn’t conscious enough to hide. Each one sliced through me, tearing my heart open a little more.

My pulse thudded painfully as I pushed myself up, staring down at him. God, he looked peaceful, but something was wrong. So, so wrong.

“Nathan?” I whispered, palming his cheek, already preparing myself to drag him to a hospital against his will if I had to.

He didn’t respond.

A sharp bolt of fear shot through me as I fumbled for the lamp and flicked it on with shaking fingers.

The light washed over his face, over the bead of sweat trailing from his temple, collecting at his hairline, dampening the strands.

“Nathan…” I palmed his cheek again, my fingers trembling. “Hey…wake up.”

A low hum vibrated from his throat, barely a sound, barely conscious, lines etched his forehead, but his eyes didn’t open.

My panic hit me full-force.

I shook his shoulder gently, “Nathan…you’re scaring me,” I mumbled, and when he didn’t wake up, I pushed myself off the bed, and the moment my feet hit the floor, my knees nearly buckled. I stumbled upright, looking around the room in a daze, as if an instruction manual might magically appear and tell me what to do next.

My gaze landed on his hand, limp on the sheets, fingers curled around the napkin he’d grabbed earlier.

Dread punched the air out of my lungs.

I edged to his side, gently prying his fingers open. They barely resisted, barely moved.

I unfolded the napkin, and whatever was left of my sanity evaporated completely.

Streaks of red soaked through the fabric. Blood. Had he coughed up blood?

“Oh my god…” I whispered, my voice trembling. What do I do? What do I do?

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out everything else.

When he remained passed out, I scrambled for the bedside table and grabbed his phone with shaking hands. The screen lit up immediately, and it unlocked on its own.

I remembered, a while back, when he had shoved the phone into my face without a word, saving my face ID on it for absolutely no reason.

It came in handy now as I flew into his contacts, scrolling, searching, panicking, looking for something, anything, related to a doctor or something of that sort, some emergency contact that could help with this.

There was nothing that made sense for a man with his condition.

“God…” I dragged a trembling hand over my face, then shoved my fingers into my hair, pacing as my chest tightened.

Think. Think. Think.

My eyes went to the clock on the top, which signaled eleven thirty in the evening.

It was late. Too late. But not too late, right?

My stomach twisted. I swallowed hard and typed “Natalie” into the contacts.

Her name appeared instantly.

My finger hovered over it, shaking, hesitating for a second, but one glance at Nathan’s face, pale and sweating and completely unresponsive, erased every doubt.

I hit call and pressed the phone to my ear with a trembling hand. I sat down beside him, my fingers automatically brushing his damp hair away from his forehead.

One ring. My heart thudded painfully. Two rings. My breathing grew shallow, uneven. Thr—

“Nathan?” Natalie’s voice echoed, startled and already tinged with a bit of panic, as if not used to him calling her at such a time.

“Uh—hey,” I whispered. “It’s me, Aylin. I…I’m so sorry to bother you now, I know it’s late, but…”

“Aylin?” she interrupted quickly, softer but alert. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“No.”

The word shattered out of me, small and broken.

I stroked Nathan’s burning cheek again, desperate for him to react, to breathe differently, something.

“Nathan is…I don’t know,” I whispered, “He’s not okay, he is burning up, and he—he coughed up blood. I—” My throat closed, and my eyes blurred. “He took some pills, and I don’t know what they were, and now he’s not waking up. I’m so scared…with his transplant history, I don’t know what to do—”

“Where are you?”

That voice wasn’t Natalie’s, no, it was a man’s voice, deeper, steadier—her husband, I supposed.

“At his house,” I managed, barely getting the words out.

“Okay, we’re on our way,” he said immediately, and I heard shuffling in the background.

“Aylin, sweetie,” Natalie jumped back in, “don’t worry. We’re calling his doctor right now, and we’ll be there as fast as we can, okay?”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me, “Okay,” I whispered.

I stayed by his side as I waited for them, brushing the damp hair back from his forehead, pressing a cool cloth to his burning skin. My hands wouldn’t stop moving over his face, his neck, his hair, as if touching him could anchor him here, keep him breathing, keep me from falling apart.

I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “You’re gonna be okay, right?” I whispered.

I still didn’t know what had happened today, but something had. He’d been off the moment I arrived, hollow in a way I couldn’t name, and whatever it was had clearly taken its toll on his body, too.

My eyes drifted to the nightstand. A notebook lay there, not his, no, this one was different. The same one he’d been reading when I first walked in…probably the thing  that had carved that haunted look into his face.

I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted to reach for it, open it, understand what had broken him tonight, but it felt like sneaking into a room in his heart he hadn’t invited me into yet.

Still, my hand trembled forward anyway, and I pulled the notebook into my lap.

I flipped through the pages, slow at first, then faster. Little verses. Short, fragmented lines. Tiny paragraphs written in soft, slanted handwriting, the ink fading slightly with age.

I paused at a random page, but before I could read a single word, the doorbell rang.

My heart lurched, and I dropped the notebook onto the nightstand and practically flew down the stairs.

I yanked the door open.

Natalie, Nikolas, and a man who I suppose is the doctor stepped inside as I gave them space.

“Is he in his room?” Nikolas asked, his eyes fixed sharply on me.

I nodded, unable to form words.

Before I could blink, he was already heading for the stairs, signaling the doctor to follow, urgency radiating off both of them. I watched them disappear around the corner, and something tightened in my chest so painfully it stole my breath.

God. I wasn’t built for this…not equipped for any of it.

A gentle hand squeezed my arm. I blinked the blur away and looked at Natalie. She gave me a small, steady smile, warm enough to tug me back from the edge of panic.

“He’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “The doctor will check him, and if anything’s wrong, we’ll get him to the hospital right away. Worry not, okay? You did the right thing calling us.” Her voice was so calm, grounding…exactly what I needed and didn’t know how to ask for.

I nodded and rubbed a hand over my throat, “Yeah, okay, I’m just…I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you this late. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

She was already shaking her head, stepping further inside, and shrugging off her jacket.

“Oh no, don’t say that,” she said so softly. “I’m glad you called me. Nathan would rather suffer in silence than ask for our help.” She shook her head with a fond sigh, “So trust me, you did the right thing.”

I swallowed hard, my throat burning as I nodded.

Her expression shifted, softening even more as she took in my face. “Oh, honey,” she murmured, “you’re so pale.”

Before I could deny it, she slipped her hand around my elbow and gently steered me toward the kitchen. “Come here,” she said, tapping the stool.

I sat without thinking, dazed, like my body had switched to autopilot.

Natalie moved through the kitchen, grabbing a glass, filling it with cold water, then placing it in my hands and curling my fingers around it, “Here. Drink.”

I nodded, trying to offer her a smile. “Thank you,” I whispered, lifting the glass with trembling fingers and sipping the cool water.

She settled on the stool next to me and fondly tapped a hand over my thigh.

I set the glass on the counter and followed Natalie’s gaze as it landed on the cake container nearby.

“You should have a piece, it’s really tasty,” I mumbled, trying to shake myself out of my panic.

Her eyes fell on me, her gaze softened further, a proud smile pulling at her lips. “Well…thanks,” she said lightly. “It’s my signature recipe.”

My eyes widened, “Oh, you baked it?” I asked, and she nodded.

“You know, I forced Nathan to eat a piece,” I said. “He grumbled the whole time, but I’m sure he liked it, too.”

She chuckled softly and nodded, “No doubts.”

I fell quiet for a moment after, thinking it through. If she brought the cake…then, she had seen him today, and if she saw him today, maybe she knew what happened and why he was all out of sorts.

“Can I ask something?” I mumbled, tracing my finger around the rim of the glass just to keep my hands busy.

“Of course,” she said immediately.

“Did you see him today?”

She nodded. “Yeah, this morning.”

My fingers tightened around the glass. “Did…something happen?”

Her expression softened, dimming slightly as if she instantly understood exactly why I was asking.

“Today is our mother’s death anniversary,” she said gently. “We visited her grave together this morning.”

My heart squeezed so tightly it actually hurt. My fingers strangled the cup, and I forced a shaky inhale. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

She shook her head softly, exhaling. “It’s okay.”

I hesitated, then asked quietly, “I don’t want to intrude, but…how did she pass away?”

“She was in an accident…a car accident,” Natalie answered, “She was pregnant with Nathan at the time.”

My eyebrows pulled together, and then it clicked, hitting me all at once like a blow.

“So today was…his birthday?” I whispered.

Natalie’s lips curved into a sad smile as she nodded toward the cake container. “Hence the cake.”

“He didn’t tell me,” I breathed, mumbling lowly under my breath, a small ache blooming in my chest. I didn’t even know. I didn’t do anything for him today. God, Nathan never shared anything personal unless I practically tore it out of him. Meanwhile, he knew everything there was to know about me.

“Well,” Natalie said softly, “from what I understood today, he doesn’t really like this day, or what it means. You know, considering everything.”

I nodded, fully grasping it. God, the pain in my chest, I wanted it to go away, it grew sharper, almost physical. I didn’t understand why it hurt so much, why his pain felt like it was blooming inside me, too. Like I was tasting something he wouldn’t let himself admit.

I’d never felt this with anyone. God, not even with Chase. What kind of sorcery was this...I didn’t like it. It made me want to run before it swallowed me whole and wrecked me.

Natalie stayed beside me in quiet companionship until the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. We both straightened instinctively, moving toward the hall as the doctor descended, tugging lightly at the strap of his medical bag. His expression wasn’t alarmed, thank god, as he spoke quietly to Nikolas.

When they reached us, the doctor’s gaze flickered to me, then to to Natalie. “He’s stable now,” he said, and my knees nearly buckled in relief. “He spiked a high fever, and well, with a transplant patient, even a mild infection can escalate fast.”

I swallowed hard, nodding even though my vision had gone blurry again.

“It looks like he’s fighting off the infection,” the doctor continued, “Still, he needs to come in for a full workup,” He added, “Blood tests, imaging, lung function, everything, as soon as possible.”

Beside him, Nikolas let out a quiet, angry exhale, like he already knew where this was going.

“He hasn’t been coming to his scheduled checkups since…ever,” the doctor added with a sigh, clearly used to this pattern. “This is critical. He needs regular monitoring so we can avoid situations like this.”

Nikolas’ jaw tightened, a muscle ticking sharply. “Of course he hasn’t,” he muttered under his breath, “Why would he do something sensible for once?”

Natalie’s eyes widened, and she nudged his arm, shooting him a warning look. He huffed out loud, but didn’t argue.

“Tonight, he needs monitoring. Keep an eye on his temperature. If the fever climbs again or he coughs more blood, you bring him in immediately.”

I nodded so quickly, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“He’s resting now,” the doctor said gently. “The medication will bring the inflammation down, but it’ll also make him drowsy and weak for a while.”

Nikolas released another slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thank you,” he said. The doctor nodded, gathering his things, speaking quietly with Nikolas as they moved toward the door.

When the doctor left, Natalie stepped closer to her husband. “Nik, I’ll stay here tonight. You go back home and—”

Nikolas’ eyebrows pulled closer, “What? No—”

“Yes,” she insisted, cutting him a look. “I’m not leaving him tonight, you heard the doctor.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay here,” he muttered, nodding once like it was settled, but Natalie was already shaking her head. “No, absolutely not. You’ll only scare the poor girl off.”

It took him a second to realize she meant me. His eyebrow raised in offense. “What the—” He glanced at me, and I gulped down, then looked back at Natalie and grumbled, “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she said, patting his chest sweetly. “But you have a scary face.”

He frowned. “A what?”

“A scary face,” she repeated, smiling like this was a compliment. “A very particular, intense face that only I can handle.” She winked at him. “So don’t argue. I’ll stay. You—home, come on, go.”

“No.” He folded his arms, “I’m staying with you.”

She sighed loudly, the sound of a woman used to handling this level of chaos daily. “Nikolas, the kids are alone. You know how Maria gets if she wakes up and doesn’t find one of us.” She had already started physically pushing him toward the door, “and Nathan has a class in the morning. He’ll leave really early, so you need to be there.”

He huffed, ever dramatic and offended. “Did I tell you that I hate your family?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes. All the time.”

“Great. Because I do,” he grumbled, stumbling toward the exit as she herded him out. “First Ronald, now Nathan. Fucking amazing…” He kept cursing under his breath until Natalie leaned in, pecked him quickly, and said something before she pushed him out and closed the door.

She turned back to me,  “Men…” She mumbled, shaking her head with a sigh of a woman long resigned.

I couldn’t help but smile. They were so cute.

She stepped closer, “Alright. You need to rest, too. You look exhausted.” Her voice shifted into firm, mother-mode. “Go up and lie down. I’ll check on him every now and then.”

I shook my head immediately. No way was I sleeping tonight. Her eyebrow arched, and she pointed toward the stairs, “No complaints, come on. Upstairs.”

“But you should sleep too,” I tried weakly. “We can take shifts—”

She waved the idea away with a soft laugh. “Maria wasn’t born that long ago. I’m professionally trained in sleepless nights.” Then she put both hands on my shoulders and guided me toward the stairs, “And if I come up to check on him and you’re not sleeping—” she added, her smile sweet and warning at once, “we’ll have a problem.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugged at my lips. “Okay,” I murmured, though we both knew sleep wasn’t coming for me. “Goodnight.”

When I stepped back into his room, whatever fragile relief I’d scraped together downstairs evaporated. The darkness pressed in again, settling over my ribs like a rock.

My fingers brushed his cheek, a bit cooler now, thank god, then, I slipped beneath the covers and laid beside him, close enough to hear the softness of his breathing.

He looked peaceful. God, he always looked most dangerous when he was peaceful.

A few loose strands of hair had fallen over his forehead and temple, his lashes resting delicately against skin that had terrified me minutes ago. I touched his jaw, brushed the roughness of his stubble.

The longer I looked, the clearer it became…frighteningly, devastatingly clear.

I was in too deep.

The realization I’d been avoiding since yesterday, since last week, since the moment he first tore through my quiet little world…

It wasn’t a thought anymore.

It was a truth lodged under my skin.

I…loved him.

Not the soft kind, not the normal one, no, this…this felt like it could split apart bones.

I wanted it to make me happy, wanted to bask in that fact…this impossible, infuriating man who had taught me new feelings by simply wanting me. I wanted to revel in every chaotic second of him.

But instead, it sat in my chest like this…this knife turned inward.

Because people like us weren’t built for soft endings. My defective brain, the ghosts of my glitching past, the storms inside him, his wavering health, his darker shadows, all of it felt like a series of live wires waiting to touch.

And if they ever collided?

It wouldn’t be fireworks. It would be a nuclear detonation.

And he and I…God, he and I…we’d be the first ones to burn.

The thought gutted me. Tears swarmed my eyes before I could stop them, hurting in places I didn’t know existed.

I inched closer, brushing trembling fingers over his cheek. A faint crease tugged at his brow before his eyelids fluttered open, slow and heavy, as if the world weighed too much for him to hold.

“Aylin,” he mumbled, slurred with sleep and exhaustion.

“Yeah,” I whispered, “I’m here.” I moved closer, as if my body could shield him from something I didn’t even understand. “Is there anything hurting you?”

He shook his head, barely. “Mm…no.”

His arm found me blindly, looping around my waist and dragging me against him until my chest pressed to his. I felt the shiver run through him, or maybe through me. I couldn’t tell anymore.

“Nathan, you have to take care of your health,” I breathed, my fingers sliding into his hair. “You can’t keep being so reckless with yourself,” I added, my voice cracking. “You can’t keep doing this.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened, and he forced his eyes open, and they were a washed-out amber, so hazy, unfocused, and heartbreakingly tired.

A harsh breath escaped him. “Stop doing this,” he rasped, his voice rough.

I blinked through the blur, “Stop doing what?”

His gaze dragged to mine, fragile and furious all at once. “Stop…” His adam’s apple bobbed, “…just stop giving me reasons to want to live.”

My world tilted wrong.

I leaned in until our noses brushed, until I could feel his uneven breath against my lips. I shut my eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall on him.

“But I want you to live,” I breathed, my lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “I want you to stay alive, Nathan. I can’t—” My voice broke apart.

“You just have to,” I whispered, the words barely holding themselves together, “you just have to.”

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Next Day…

Nathan’s POV

I want to live.

Hilarious, right?

I’m sure the Grim Reaper is standing in the corner of my room right now, doubled over, wheezing into his scythe because I…I…me, Nathan, me in the flesh, have finally developed the audacity to want survival.

Me…the same idiot who has been playing the push-and-pull game with death since infancy.

I’ve spent years flirting with the end, pushing it, daring it, courting it like some deranged, long-distance lover.

And death, like everyone else in my fucked-up life, never wanted me back.

Wouldn’t even pick up my calls, the fucker.

But now? Now I cough up a little blood, and instead of shrugging like usual, I felt something alien slither through me.

Fear. Actual goddamn fear.

What a fucking plot twist. Gotta admit, didn’t see that one coming.

When the blood hit my palm yesterday, something in my chest tightened like a fist. Not pain, worse. Panic. This sudden urge to survive.

Since when the fuck do I have survival instincts?

I should send them back. They’re clearly delivered to the wrong address.

Yet still, I know exactly who to blame for this malfunction in my system.

The wicked little blonde princess of mine. A cursed gift from whatever cruel god is bored enough to play with me.

She waltzed into my life with her soft voice, adorable self, stupidly brave heart, and did the one thing no one else has managed in my thirty miserable years of life.

She made me want to stay.

Stay alive.

Stay breathing.

Stay here.

Fucking disgusting…

I knew she was sent to ruin me.

To unravel whatever careful detachment I’d stitched around my ribcage, to make me want things so the universe could rip them out of my hands later. Typical. The story of my entire fucking life.

That same infuriatingly beautiful girl was palming my cheeks now like a mother checking her feverish toddler. Her brows pulled together, her lips pursed, her hand moving from my cheeks to my forehead like she was a walking thermometer.

I huffed, loud and offended. “I am fine,” I grumbled.

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “Are you sure?”

Her hands were everywhere, my neck, my jaw, my ears, Christ…poking and prodding like she was searching for one thing out of the ordinary. Normally, her hands on me would feel like oxygen. Normally, they’d get me hard, but now, I was fucking annoyed for falling weak last night—

Actually…The way her hand just slid down to my chest, yeah. There it is. I think I am getting hard, after all.

“If you keep touching me like this,” I said, arching a brow, “I’m throwing you back on that bed and proving just how fine I am.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled her hands away. “I’m worried, okay?” she snapped softly. “You scared the crap out of me last night.”

I sighed dramatically. “Let’s never talk about last night ever again.”

She shook her head. “Right, because you’re such a man. God forbid you acknowledge you were weak for five minutes.”

“I don’t fall weak,” I shot back.

She snorted and tugged me toward the door, “Sure you don’t.”

As we descended the stairs, something felt off. There was a nice smell, like…pancakes? Also, there were movements in the kitchen. My first instinct was to grab my knife and haul it at whoever dared to invade my space, but then again, why would an intruder be making pancakes—

I halted to a stop by the kitchen’s doorway…Oh. Oh, holy fuck, this was worse than an intruder, much worse.

“Good morning,” Natalie said, her voice ever so soft, smiling as she set a plate full to the brim with pancakes on the counter. “You’re finally awake.”

She walked around the counter and approached me, her eyes scanning me up and down like she had some X-ray vision, then she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.

What is with these people and their goddamn thermometer hands? Get off me.

I pushed myself away from her touch, still trying to grasp what was going on. I stared at her, horrified, “How are you here?”

Please let this be a hallucination, a fever dream, anything but reality. Yeah, yeah, this is a hallucination, I am sure. She is not in my kitchen….preparing breakfast, no, she can’t be.

“Uh…I called her last night when you got bad,” Aylin said softly.

I snapped my head toward her, glaring. She gulped. Good. She should.

You see? This woman was sent to ruin me. There was no other explanation.

“Why would you do that?” I hissed.

She blinked, “I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered, her eyes widening, “Also, don’t be rude. She stayed awake and checked on you all through the night.”

God, just kill me.

“How are you feeling now?” Natalie asked, tilting her head, brows knitting in genuine, maternal-like worry. Barf.

I’d be better…if you’d just leave me be.

Before I could give her that answer, the doorbell rang. Natalie glanced toward it. “I’ll get it,” she announced.

You’ll what? What the fuck…

“It must be Nik—”

Oh, just awesome.

Natalie disappeared toward the front door, and I shifted my glare back to Aylin, the traitor responsible for this entire absurdity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” She mumbled, pouting ever so cutely.

I dragged in a deep, slow breath through my nose, trying to cling to whatever scraps of sanity I had left, and looked toward the entryway, only to find…Christian strolling in next to Natalie.

She greeted him warmly, and then his gaze landed on me.

I shot him a glare sharp enough to skin a man alive, didn’t I tell the twat not to come here…why does no one listen to me anymore?

He left Natalie’s side and walked closer, his lips lifting into that insufferable smile. His eyebrow arched knowingly, clearly clocking the presence of two additional living humans in my house. He had no idea it was all against my will.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, birthday boy,” he said, mock dripping from every syllable.

I shoved him away, hard. He laughed because he values his life far less than I thought.

Then he turned to Aylin, to my princess, and his smile stretched even wider. Oh, hell no.

He extended his hand. “And we finally officially meet,” he said in that polite, British, charming way of his, “I’m Christian.”

Aylin smiled softly…why was she smiling? Stop smiling.

She placed her hand in his, and before their fingers could even think of interlocking, I yanked her back toward me.

She stumbled into my side, her eyes wide as she looked up at me like I was the unreasonable one.

Christian clicked his tongue. “Not very gentlemanly of you, Nathan.”

I didn’t break eye contact with him. “Why are you here?”

“To see you,” he answered, ever so casually.

“Don’t you have a fucking job?”

His smile widened. “Christmas vacation,” he said with a wink. “Came to spend it with you.”

My jaw ticked so hard I’m pretty sure a bone snapped. Before I could recover, more voices floated in from the doorway. Of course. Nikolas stepped inside, talking quietly with Natalie before his eyes finally landed on me.

He walked closer, and his eyebrow arched. “So,” he said dryly, “you’re still alive.”

Air pushed out of my nose. I really needed to kill someone today, “Unfortunate for you,” I grumbled.

“Where is Maria?” Natalie asked him.

He huffed out, “She is with Ronald, he was behind me,” he muttered.

Oh, Ronald too, awesome, make it a family reunion in my house…but at least I’d get to see Maria. That was the only blessing in this hellscape.

Natalie’s eyebrows pulled closer, “Why is she with Ronald?”

Nikolas rolled his eyes. “We…fought.”

“You fought?” Natalie asked, flashing him an incredulous look, “With Maria?”

“Yeah,” Nikolas grumbled, glaring at her, “because you gave birth to a mini-you.”

Natalie sighed dramatically. “God, what happened this time?”

“I took her to the park this morning, and then she found this f…boy that goes to the same school as her and she ran off to him…” He grumbled, not willing to indulge in further details.

Natalie faceplamed, “Oh my god, am I gonna have to apologize to some innocent kid’s parents again?”

He shook his head, “No need,” He said. “He just happened to accidentally trip and fall into the mud,” He shrugged, ever so casually. “It was an accident,” He added, “accidents happen.”

Natalie huffed out, “Unbelievable,” She grumbled and walked back to the kitchen, my kitchen, might I remind you, and resumed preparing breakfast.

Just then, I heard more voices outside. Ronald, probably his wife, and Maria.

I exhaled sharply, every cell in my body rejecting the idea of more people entering my sanctuary.

I turned to Christian, “I’ve made up my mind,” I grumbled, eternally annoyed, “I am moving back to England.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hey!
You’re all invited to a Christmas party at Nathan’s house. Since he is a great host and all xD
Bring food and gifts, don’t forget ^_^

I know you all can’t wait for the whole Aylin’s condition and past to be revealed and don’t worry, it’s coming soon, all in right time 😉
Trust the process.

Also I am making up a playlist for this story, drop a song here you feel fitting for these two crazy kids.

See ya soon 🩶