Chapter 37

“I wanted to keep her breathing
even if it meant
cutting the future out of us.
I wanted her alive
more than I wanted her happy.“

Nathan’s POV

I am losing my mind.

That’s not new, by any means. I always lived on the edge of insanity, anyway. I even built a house there, hung some curtains, and learned how to function while everything inside me screamed.

But this—this is different.

This isn’t that familiar hum. This isn’t the itch under my skin that asks for violence or distraction or blood to keep the lights on.

No, this is…it’s this unfamiliar emptiness. It’s what happens when you take the one thing that kept the predator fed and tell it to wait.

I don’t do waiting.

Last night, she ran away from me again, back to her grandfather’s house like it was a bunker, and like I was the war.

I don’t think she understands what she is to me, not really. She thinks distance will teach me restraint.

Distance only teaches me hunger.

She said that I don’t listen, that I decide, that I act, and expect the world to survive the fallout. That’s true—though I don’t give a damn whether the world survives my mayhem or not—but for once in my life, I’m restraining myself from doing what I do whenever I feel cornered.

For once, I am not pushing back.

For once, I am letting her have the precious space she so desperately thinks she needs. It was adorable at first. Her little delusions. Her belief that a boundary is a thing I respect.

Now it’s making me tick.

Still, in the name of character growth and all…I am making progress, she should be proud of me. I sure am not.

I blinked at my phone when it started vibrating over the desk. I huffed at Christian’s name and declined right away, forcing my gaze back on the myriad of books and notes ahead of me, trying to connect the dots.

Christian’s been worried, which is funny, because I’m pretty sure being worried about me was his second full-time job after being a professor. He called the other day, right after she told me it’s fucking over, in her dreams, by the way, and I slipped and accidentally told him almost everything in the spur of anger.

He’s been checking on me frequently since then, like I’m a ticking bomb, even told Adam to keep an eye on me, the fucker.

Aylin told me that if I stay antagonistic like this, I’ll end up alone. Also true, technically.

I mean, Natalie and Ronald would eventually choke on my chaos, get tired of my messes, and finally give up. Nikolas, too, would stop trying once I became too inconvenient, and he’d retreat into whatever moral fantasy he uses to sleep at night.

Good riddance. I’d love a life void of them.

But Christian?

Christian would still be there. That part I’m sure of.

He’s the one constant I didn’t earn. The one person who stayed even when staying made him complicit. He did diverge from that road temporarily when he picked Lilly’s side over mine a while back, but I kind of forgave him for that. Love does that to you…it makes intelligent men do idiotic things.

Thank god I haven’t reached that stupidity phase yet.

Now, though, the longer I stared at the results, the less room there was for denial.

The more I researched, the more I cross-checked old reports against the new ones, the clearer the picture became. Patterns started lining up in ways I didn’t like. My pulse thudded in my ears with every conclusion I drew, every possibility I couldn’t unsee.

I wasn’t a fucking expert on this, and if I stayed alone with it any longer, I was going to lose what little restraint I had left.

I quickly gathered the papers with urgent hands, shoved them into a folder, grabbed my phone and keys, and left the house without thinking twice. When I reached the hospital, I slipped past the receptionist desk unnoticed and headed for Malcolm’s clinic.

I barely saw ahead of me. There was this pressure building behind my eyes, like a sharp electric feeling, almost as if something inside me was about to snap.

Without caring to knock, I pushed the door open and walked in.

Malcolm was behind his desk, and across from him sat…Natalie, mid-gesture, papers lifted between her fingers, engrossed in some conversation. They both looked up at once when I barged in.

Natalie’s brows drew together. “Nathan?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused too.

“I’m discussing some of my patients with Malc—”

I waved a hand dismissively, already feeling my headache spike when she said more than one word. “I don’t care. I don’t even know why I asked, shush,” I turned to Malcolm, who checked his watch before lifting his confused eyes to me, “I thought our appointment was tomorrow.”

“It was,” I said, moving deeper into the room. I dropped the folder onto his desk. “But I figured it out.”

The papers slid across the surface, “And the more I read, the more I realized I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”

I met his gaze, “So you need to tell me that it’s not as bad as I think it is.”

Malcolm’s brows drew together, a bit thrown off, “What do you mean by figured it out?”

I flipped the folder open and pulled out the scans, “Look,” I said, tapping the image. “Right there, the left temporal lobe. You see that shadow?”

Malcolm leaned forward, his glasses sliding down his nose.

“At first I thought I was imagining it,” I went on, “Because on her old MRIs—” I shoved another scan beside it, dated years earlier, “—it’s barely there, so tiny, and easy to miss, especially if you’re not hunting for it.”

They weren’t. They’d hunted for an explanation that fit neatly on paper instead, a psychological label they could slap on her and call it a day.

“But it didn’t stay small, that…mass grew, not fast or aggressively, so it’s not a tumor, thank fucking god for that, but it’s bigger now, and it’s sitting in the worst possible place, pressing on all the wrong things.”

It looked so similar to a bruise, a hemorrhage…a literal ticking bomb inside her head.

“It’s a cluster of blood vessels, abnormal ones, right?” I needed his years of expertise to back up my assumptions, or hopefully deny them.

“Something called CCM, I guess, cerebral cavernous malformation, it’s hereditary too, passed through the maternal line, which explains the grandmother, and could be dormant in some people, explains the mother, who is somehow…normal, I guess.”

Malcolm blinked up at me, “CCM was my first assumption when I looked at the scans and the rest of the results,” he said. “I consulted with my colleagues to rule out other possibilities, and they all said the same thing…” He hesitated, his brows drawing together. “But…how did you figure it out?”

Was that the fucking important question right now?

“Oh, Nathan went to med school,” Natalie chirped in, in a somewhat proud tone, like she was my fucking mother and showing me off to the neighbors, “He followed my dream and did what I couldn’t do—”

I turned to her, my hard glare shutting her up, and her little smile died instantly. She gulped, shrank back into her chair, and shifted her attention to Malcolm instead, adding in a much smaller voice, “He’s a little genius.”

“No, I’m not,” I grumbled, wishing she weren’t here, then turned back to the man.

“Now, since we seem to agree on what this is, you need to tell me more, because everything I read suggests that there is…no cure for this,” My fingers dug into the edge of the desk, “and you need to tell me that there is.”

Malcolm straightened his posture and pointed to the chair across from him, “Why don’t you sit down first?” He urged.

My nerves were on fire, pushing me to pace, to bolt, to do anything but sit, anything but let this become real. My legs finally listened, and I dropped onto the edge of the seat like I was bracing for impact, my eyes locked on him.

“I won’t sugarcoat it,” Malcolm said. “There is no cure in the sense of a pill that makes it disappear…there isn’t getting rid of this disease, but there is managing it. There isn’t a solution, but there are certain choices that can be made to decrease the risk.”

My pulse thudded in my ears, too fucking loud, like my body was trying to drown out words it already knew.

Because I’d read that. I’d seen it in clinical language and sterile studies and neat little paragraphs that didn’t fucking mention what it feels like to realise that the woman you care about more than anything in this world is carrying a minefield in her head.

Malcolm continued, his voice steady, mercifully calm in a way I couldn’t be.

“This lesion can bleed unpredictably,” he said. “Even small bleeds can irritate the brain tissue around them. It can also disrupt the electrical signals, trigger episodes that look psychiatric on the surface, when they’re actually neurological.”

His finger tapped at the scan, “It can worsen under stress and any type of emotional overload, because, like you pointed out—” he traced the area lightly, “—it’s sitting in the wrong place. It’s pressing near circuits that handle memory, emotion regulation, fear response, impulse control.”

My jaw ticked because hearing it out loud from him, said with such certainty, made it stop being research and start being her.

My eyes dropped to the scan again, to that small, ugly thing pretending to be harmless, sitting in her head, silently threatening her, harming her since she was a little kid, waiting, just waiting for the right moment to erupt.

That’s what I read, that it could happen at any time, it could flare up and just…rupture. One bad bleed in the wrong spot and she wouldn’t even make it to the hospital. That was what happened in some of the cases. Some suffered strokes and ended up paralyzed, some of them went to bed on an ordinary night and simply never woke up, and others couldn’t handle it and just…killed themselves.

It was unpredictable, that’s what they called it.

On paper, it looked like nothing, a mere speck, a smudge, a damn threat with no face. A fucking thing small enough to miss if you blinked but powerful enough to…take her away from me.

I stared at it like I could hate it out of her skull, or maybe put it in my own head instead.

“It explains all of her symptoms,” I muttered, the words scraping out of me as I lifted my eyes to Malcolm’s.

He nodded, “This condition acts differently in certain people, but mainly it can cause something close to personality shifts, emotional aggression, dissociation, and amnesia episodes.”

All the things she’s currently suffering from.

“I checked her grandmother’s file, and she had a lot of similar symptoms too. Fainting spells, dissociation, paranoia, and hallucinations.” His mouth tightened slightly. “Back then, imaging wasn’t what it is now. The lesion was missed, and doctors chose easier labels, like hysterical neurosis or schizophrenia.”

He sighed, “No one tried to find the real origin of it.”

“What should the next step be?” I asked. The burn in my throat flared. It spread down into my lungs, scorching me from the inside out. “Couldn’t we try…surgery and remove it?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Surgery is risky. That’s an option I want to keep for last. After more investigation and after consulting neurosurgeons who’ve handled cases like this. Because of where the cluster is located, it’s highly risky, could be…fatal even.”

My stomach dropped.

“Then what?”

“There are some medications that we can prescribe, which could help with the dissociations at least, the episodes could decrease, but would never…fully vanish. There are some drawbacks, too. I mean, she might feel slightly dulled at times, a bit detached…since they are very heavy drugs.”

The image of my princess walking around like her own light had been turned down hit me so hard my lungs seized.

I sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t fucking work. My chest tightened like it was being cinched from the inside. I wanted to punch myself, to force my body to obey, to get my stupid transplanted lung to cooperate.

“But fewer episodes mean less irritation in that area, fewer bleeds from the lesion, and therefore a lower risk of it rupturing,” He continued, “Other than that, therapy is needed too. She needs to learn how to deal with her emotions, or else any type of overload or a trigger will stimulate the lesion.”

He pressed the pen cap once, then twice, “Think of it like this…the lesion is the physical problem, but emotions are the spark. They don’t cause it, but they can ignite it.”

Why did none of his words loosen the noose around my chest? Why did every sentence sink its teeth into me and feed my panic more and more, and more?

“When I talked to her the other day, and based on what Natalie informed me,” He glanced briefly at her, who was silent, intently listening to all of this, her expression taut, her brows drawn together, as if this stressed her out, too.

“There is something that happened in her life, something that she doesn’t remember, and I could only conclude that the combination of the lesion and…trauma explains why her symptoms escalated and why they were misread.”

“The psychological trauma and the physical lesion feed each other,” he went on. “One amplifies the other. That’s why treatment can’t be only medication or only therapy. She needs both.”

My hands curled into fists under the desk, nails biting into my palms, grounding me so I didn’t do something stupid and violent and entirely on brand.

She is in pain, she has been for most of her life, and now I realize she could end up in more pain.

And I’m supposed to just…manage it?

I’m supposed to stand there and watch her life become a list of triggers and pills and lower risk and might and can?

No, no fucking way in hell. I’m going to find a solution. I don’t know how yet, I don’t know what it will cost me, but I will.

My foot started tapping against the floor relentlessly. I felt Natalie’s gaze drop to it before it flickered back up to my face. I didn’t look at her and kept my focus locked on Malcolm.

I forced my hand to unclench and lifted it, dragging it down my face, then up into my hair. “Are there any…other symptoms we should be looking out for?”

He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the desk as he intertwined his fingers. “Some she’s already experiencing, like the headaches, nosebleeds, dizziness, and heavy sleep.” He said. “She could also develop slurred speech, fainting spells, nausea, vomiting, and seizures.”

Each word landed like a fucking blow. Fuck.

He inhaled deeply. “I don’t know if it’s my place to say all of this to you,” he added, more carefully now. “I should be having this conversation with her, not you.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Natalie, his brow lifting, hinting that he is doing it for her sake, the whole sharing patient information and whatnot.

If he hadn’t told me, I would’ve extracted the words out of him by violence if I had to, so he should be fucking thankful.

Natalie murmured a quiet thank you. Malcolm dismissed it with a small shake of his head, then turned back to me.

“There’s something else,” he said. “Based on the lesion’s location and her blood results, I noticed a significant hormonal disruption. That’s also one of the symptoms.”

“If she’s on any form of contraceptive pills,” he continued, “it won’t be reliable, so she should be careful.”

My brows pulled together.

“That’s important to know, because she shouldn’t get pregnant, not right now at least. It would be very dangerous for her and for the baby,” He explained, “That level of hormonal overload wouldn’t just aggravate the lesion. It could cause it to rupture.”

“I don’t know if you’re…planning anything in that regard,” he added, his words measured, “but I should tell you that it needs to be put on hold, completely, for the time being.”

I shook my head and mumbled, “No…no, we are not there yet.”

That was a problem for another day, one I refused to look at right now. I couldn’t imagine a future in this moment, even the act of trying felt like daring the universe to take her from me faster.

Malcolm kept talking, explaining more and more about the condition, but his words blurred together. I felt like I was drowning, like the room was filling up and I’d missed the chance to breathe.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, once, then again, then again, like consecutive messages being sent after one another. My brows pulled together as I pulled it out, tapping the screen. I read the messages Adam was sending, each one making less sense than the last, until the final one landed and…something inside me tore loose.

I shot up from my seat, my heart breaking into a sprint before my body caught up.

Natalie stood too. “Nathan?” She said, worry eating its way through her voice, “Is everything okay?”

“I need—” I didn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t. “I need to go.”

The words barely made it out before I was already turning away, storming out of the office, down the corridor, and out of the hospital. My steps were urgent, unmeasured, driven by a pressure in my chest that refused to be ignored.

I was in my car seconds later, engine roaring to life, tires biting into the road as I pulled out too fast, my hands so fucking tight on the wheel, my eyes tracking her location on the screen.

This had to be…a fucking joke, a misunderstanding, because the alternative—

No.

No, this cannot be fucking real.

By the time I reached her location, my own breath was too loud and wrong in my chest. I turned into the lot too sharply. The tyres screamed as I parked crooked, carelessly. I was out before the engine even settled, the door slamming behind me. My shoes hit wet pavement hard, only to come to a halt when my eyes found her.

On the steps near the entrance, sitting in the cold, a small thing, folded in on herself. Her knees pressed together, elbows on her thighs, her head bowed into her hands like she was trying to hold herself in one piece. Her hair was a mess, her shoulders hunched tight, trembling even, whether from the weather or the inside of her, I couldn’t tell.

My chest tightened so fast it hurt.

I moved before my brain could give permission, Malcolm’s words echoing louder with each step until it all became one relentless roar.

This couldn’t fucking happen…not like this.

I only stopped when I was right in front of her, close enough that my shoe hit the edge of the step below hers.

She blinked down, then slowly lifted her head, her puffy, red, teary eyes falling into mine. They widened instantly. She startled like I’d struck her, pushing up from the step too quickly, unsteady enough that she nearly toppled back. I reached out immediately, caught her by the elbow, and steadied her.

“What…” Her voice came out breathless, broken at the edges. “What are you doing here?”

Her gaze flickered around, frantic, like she was trying to understand how I always find her.

I stared at her face, at the damage, at the fear she was trying to hide behind anger and disbelief, and something savage coiled tight in my chest.

“I think you should answer me that question,” I said, and my voice was too low, too controlled, because if I let it rise, it would turn into a scream, and it would scare her more.

My jaw ticked, and my grip on her elbow tightened the slightest, “What are you doing here, Aylin?”

Her chest heaved, up and down, unevenly. Old tears had dried into streaks down her flushed cheeks, the tip of her nose red from all the crying. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept since I last saw her. She blinked like she was trying to kick herself back into reality, then yanked her arm from my grip.

“Why…why are you here?” she shot out, frustration spilling out as she dragged a hand through her hair. “I told you I’d call you, and we’d talk…I told you, why didn’t you wait? Why are you here now? Why?”

“Aylin, stop deflecting and answer me.” I was barely holding myself together, “I’m so fucking close to losing all of my control, so tell me…why are you here?”

My eyes briefly flickered past her to the sign behind her.

Women’s Health Centre.

The words burned into my vision.

There was only one reason she’d be here. Only one.

She pressed her lips together, her jaw set in stubborn silence. Her eyes glared at me, the anger and fear braided together, furious that I’d followed her, furious that I’d found her, furious that she couldn’t hide from the truth even for one more day.

“What did you buy from the drugstore last night?” I asked, quieter now, deadlier. Suddenly, her shaken-up state, her anxiousness when she saw me there, it all made sense, how she was so twitchy and ready to bolt.

She turned her head away, as if looking at me for too long would make her break.

She said nothing for far too long.

“For god’s sake, Aylin, say something!” I bit out, my control slipping. She slightly flinched at my tone. Her eyes flicked back to mine, tears immediately gathering like they’d been waiting behind the dam.

“Don’t shout at me,” she whispered, her voice so small it wrecked me, “I’m already so…scared. Don’t make this worse.”

If she was scared, what the fuck was I supposed to be after what Malcolm had just told me?

I swallowed hard, trying to force the panic back into its cage.

“What did you buy from the store?” I asked again.

She sniffled, wiped under her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, “A pregnancy test,” she said.

Something in my chest collapsed inward, too tightly, like my ribs were folding around a heart that suddenly didn’t know how to beat. The pavement beneath my feet lost its weight, the world tipping on its axis as the sound of cars, wind, life, all of it, dropped into a dull, underwater hum.

Fuck.

“It…it was positive.”

My vision tunneled. My hands clenched at my sides so hard my fingers hurt.

“Lilly told me I should do a blood test too,” she went on, her voice barely there, fraying at the edges. She still wouldn’t look at me. “Just to be sure, because it could be a false positive…or there could be other things. So I came here, did the test, and I’m waiting for the results, and then I have an appointment with the gyno in—” She checked her phone with shaking fingers. “In ten minutes.”

I barely registered what she was saying, all I could see was a future tearing itself open in my head, a very dark image I wouldn’t fucking survive. No, no way.

My mind tried to reject it. Tried to tear reality into something I could control.

“You can’t be pregnant,” I said, the words ripping out of me sharply, harsh even, “You just—can’t.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, startled by the violence in my voice.

I shook my head, denial clawing its way into every word, refusing everything about this.

“You can’t be pregnant, and if you are, we’re getting rid of it, immediately. There’s no fucking way you’re going through with this. I won’t let you.”

Her eyes widened, fury flashing through the fear. “Don’t you think I have a damn choice in this?” she snapped. “It’s not like I want any of this. I don’t even…I don’t know how it happened, I don’t want it, but you can’t—”

Her voice cracked, her lower lip trembled slightly, “You can’t say that,” she whispered.

“I can, it is my choice too. If you’re pregnant, it would be my…my kid, wouldn’t it?” Fuck, fuck, my chest burned as I spoke. “Well, I don’t want it, so we’re ending this today before tomorrow. Today.”

Her breath hitched, but I took a step closer nevertheless, determined, “And if you even think about running from me again before that. I will find you. I always do.” My jaw clenched. “And don’t make me say what I’ll do if it comes to that, but I will force this to end. There isn’t another option.”

Her eyes shattered, wide, glassy, and betrayed.

She stared at me like I’d just killed something in front of her, and the irony nearly split me in half, because all I wanted was to pull her into my arms, to press her into my chest and promise I’d fix everything, that I’d be on her side and let this take its natural course.

I couldn’t. No, I just couldn’t take any risk, because nothing, nothing, is more important than her health. Not dreams, not futures, and not the stupid fucking picture I once let myself sketch in my head.

If she had told me this before the conversation I just had with Malcolm, I would’ve probably been the happiest man alive. I would’ve thought the universe finally chose me and stopped tormenting me. Thought fate had given me a way to anchor her to me forever.

It would’ve been a dream.

But now?

Now that dream looked like a coffin.

I didn’t want it if it would hurt her. I didn’t want it if it would take even one breath from her lungs. I didn’t want anything that put her on the wrong side of a hospital door.

I only wanted her, alive, breathing, and here.

Anything that threatens that, I will destroy it.

Her jaw clenched, and the tears spilled freely as she shoved her tiny fist into my chest, “Why are you acting like this?” she cried out, broken, furious, and confused. “Why?”

She hit me again, very small fists, and no real force behind them…just pain looking for somewhere to land.

“You liar,” she sobbed. “You’re such a liar, you selfish piece of—”

I caught her wrist mid-swing, far gentler than the urge clawing its way up my spine. “You can call me every bad word in the dictionary, right after we take care of this.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the entrance. “Come with me.”

“No…let go,” she protested, trying to wrench free, her boots scraping against the pavement. “I don’t want you here. Let go of me!”

People were starting to look. I didn’t care.

I stopped only when we reached the receptionist desk, releasing her wrist then. My eyes dropped to her purse, caught on the edge of a folded paper slipping out. I leaned and snatched it up.

“What are you—” Aylin started to ask.

I gave it a look and slammed it onto the desk.

“We have an appointment,” I said flatly.

The young receptionist blinked, startled, then nodded as she took the paper and checked the system.

Aylin stood rigid beside me, scrubbing under her eyes, trying to pull herself together with shaking hands. She felt my unwavering gaze and turned her head to glare up at me, sharp enough to draw blood.

“I still don’t want you here,” She grumbled in a low voice, and I refrained from making a comment.

Instead, I slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into my side, because she looked one breath away from bolting again.

She let out a low groan and tried to shove me off. I didn’t let her.

The receptionist looked back up. “The blood results are in and have been sent to the doctor,” she said, then glanced at Aylin. “Dr. Callahan’s office is on the third floor.”

I took the paper back with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

“Stop dragging me around,” Aylin muttered as I steered her toward the elevator.

I said nothing. Patience wasn’t my virtue, but control was when I had no other choice left.

Once the metallic doors of the elevator slid shut, Aylin groaned loudly, shoved at my chest, then, because she’s vindictive when she’s hurt, stepped hard on my foot.

Fuck, that hurt.

“Stop touching me,” she snapped, eyes bright with tears and rage. “I can barely handle looking at your face right now.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

Her nostrils flared, her eyes narrowing into something defensive. “If you do, or say, one thing wrong,” she hissed, “I will scream. I’ll bring this whole place down on your head. I’ll tell everyone you kidnapped me, that you hurt me, so tread carefully, Nathan.”

Normally, I’d find that threatening tone adorable, amusing, even.

But right now, I was teetering on the edge of something ugly. My thoughts were scattered shards, and every one of them had her name on it.

The doors slid open, and before she could make good on her threat, my hand clamped around her arm, and I pulled her along.

She yelped. “Nathan—”

“Walk,” I said under my breath.

We moved down the corridor, her steps clicking too fast, my grip not loosening. I found the doctor’s name on one of the doors and knocked once.

A low “Come in,” floated out.

I opened the door and walked inside, bringing Aylin with me whether she liked it or not.

The doctor stood, so professional and calm, shook our hands, then sat behind her desk. We took the chairs across from her, Aylin perched on the edge like she might spring up at any second.

The doctor’s eyes flickered to the monitor. “So…Aylin,” she read, then looked up at her, and her expression softened instantly, something almost motherly warming the air when she noticed that she’d been crying, “Looks like you’ve had a rough day, hmm?”

Aylin tried to smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers kept worrying the zipper of her jacket like it was the only thing keeping her from coming undone.

“Kind of,” she breathed.

The doctor’s voice stayed gentle. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

Aylin’s gaze stayed locked on the woman, “Yesterday, I realised I was eight days late, and I’ve been kind of…nauseous lately, so I took a pregnancy test and…” She gulped, her fingers freezing on the zipper for half a second. Her eyes flickered to me before snapping back to the doctor. “It came out positive, so I wanted to make sure.”

The doctor listened carefully, she nodded once, then turned the monitor slightly so Aylin could see without being forced to lean in. “I’ve reviewed your blood work,” she said gently. “And I want to start by saying this clearly, so you hear it before anything else.”

She paused, making sure Aylin was looking at her.

“You are not pregnant.”

The words hit me like oxygen after being underwater too long.

Fucking hell.

Relief roared through my chest, so overwhelming, almost dizzying. My shoulders sagged before I could stop them, the knot around my lungs loosening all at once, like my body had been waiting for permission to breathe again.

Across from me, Aylin visibly sank into her chair, like the tension had been yanked out from under her spine. Her hands fell limp in her lap, her shoulders slumping forward as a shaky breath left her.

Relief, yes…but not just that. There was something else there too, flickering behind her eyes. I could almost see it, a shadow of what if. A possibility she’d hated and feared…and maybe, for the smallest second, wondered about in softer colours.

The doctor noticed it, so she carried on, “What you experienced is what we call a chemical pregnancy.”

Aylin blinked. “A…what?”

“A chemical pregnancy,” the doctor repeated, “It means your body started the process of a pregnancy, but it ended very early, before anything could fully develop.” She folded her hands on the desk. “The hormone we test for, hCG, rose just enough to trigger a positive home test. That part was real.”

Aylin’s fingers curled slightly in her lap.

“But the hormone isn’t rising the way it needs to,” the doctor continued. “Your blood test shows it’s already dropped again. That tells us the pregnancy didn’t progress. We’ll do an ultrasound as well, just to make sure everything looks okay.”

“So…it could’ve been a pregnancy, right?” Aylin asked, confused.

The woman nodded, “Yeah, but it ended on its own, very early, almost before it even started,” She explaiend. “Actually, if you hadn’t noticed you were late, if you hadn’t taken a test…in a few days you would’ve gotten your period and likely never realised anything happened.”

Aylin’s mouth parted like she wanted to say something, then closed again.

“This happens more often than people realise,” the doctor added, “Especially when the body is under a lot of stress, or when hormones are disrupted. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Aylin nodded faintly.

“You’ll likely get your period within the next few days,” the doctor added. “It may be heavier or more uncomfortable than usual. That’s normal,” She said, already standing up, “Let’s do the ultrasound too, just to confirm everything is okay.”

Aylin rose as well, her posture stiff, like she was holding herself together with stubbornness alone. I started to stand, but her hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me. Her eyes pinned me down, harsh and final, “Don’t. Just…stay here.”

For a second, everything in me rebelled, but it felt wrong to push her any further now. So I nodded once, stayed where I was, and watched them disappear behind the curtain, my chest tight with things I refused to name.

About fifteen minutes later, they came back.

The doctor caught my questioning look immediately and gave a small nod. “Everything is okay,” she said calmly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Then she turned to Aylin, gentle again. “Now, if you want to plan for a pregnancy, we coul—”

“No, she doesn’t want to,” I cut in.

The doctor’s eyes snapped to me, hardening a fraction. “I wasn’t asking you,” she said coolly, then turned back to Aylin.

Aylin shook her head quickly, her voice harder, aimed at me, apparently, “Uh—no. No. It’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

After that, the doctor went over follow-ups, what to watch out for, and when to come back if anything felt off. Aylin murmured her thanks, already halfway out of the room, her body angled away from me, ready to escape.

Once she was out, she bolted.

I followed her, but she was fast. She ignored the elevator and took the stairs. I took them two at a time, catching up just as she burst out of the building into the open air.

My hand curled around her arm from behind, stopping her. “Aylin—”

She ripped free and spun on me. “Don’t talk to me,” she snapped, her breath shaking, eyes blazing. “Don’t even try—”

I didn’t let her finish. I grabbed her arm again and pulled her into the narrow alley beside the building, out of sight and earshot, “Listen to me…”

“I’ve listened enough!” she shouted, tearing herself free again, fury vibrating through her as she faced me.

She jabbed a finger into my chest. “You…” Her voice cracked, then rose again. “You’re just a liar, aren’t you? Everything you ever told me is a lie, isn’t it? You keep pretending that you care about me, but you keep doing this to me. First, I tell you that I love you, and I swear to god I wish I’d died before I said those goddamn words to you—”

“Don’t say that,” I cut in sharply.

“Shut up!” she yelled, slapping my hand away as I tried to reach for her. She was shaking now, unraveling in real time. “I tell you that, and you run away. Then you come back and act like I’m all you want, like you want a future with me.”

Her chest heaved. “And today, I tell you I might be pregnant, that I am terrified, and the first thing you say is that I need to get rid of it!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, moving toward her again. “Listen to me. I went to the—”

“No,” she snapped, backing away, shaking her head violently like she could fling my words off her skin. “No, you’re just selfish, so selfish.” Her voice broke. “It’s my fault, actually, it’s always my fault. I do this…I trust the wrong people, every single time.”

Her eyes filled, overflowed. Tears slid down her cheeks unchecked, her body sagging under the weight of everything crashing in at once. “I do this to myself. It’s my fault…my fault. I thought…I thought no one could ever hurt me more than Chase did, but congrats, you surpassed him.”

My jaw ticked, “Don’t compare me to him,” I grumbled.

“Yeah? How could I?” She scoffed, “My bad, at least he didn’t hurt my family…”

A groan ripped out of my chest as I closed the distance and grabbed her, pulling her into me before she could retreat again. “Stop,” I grumbled, “Don’t make this worse, and just listen to me. I know what you’re feeling now—”

“No, you don’t!” she screamed, shoving at me, little fists slamming into my chest again and again. I didn’t stop her this time, just allowed her to let it all out, “You don’t know anything! You don’t know how hurt I am, how broken this makes me feel—”

Her tears blinded her now. She could barely see me.

She hit me again, and again.

“I didn’t want this either!” she cried. “I know I couldn’t be pregnant…I know that!”

Another punch.

“I can’t ever be pregnant,” she sobbed, her voice collapsing inward. “Because I’d only hurt that poor baby, I’d destroy his life.” Her fists kept landing, weak but relentless. “My defective brain won’t let me have that, I know that, I know…”

She broke completely then, words tumbling out between sobs. “I can never be a mother, and I thought I didn’t want to be, god, I really thought I didn’t, but being with you made me dream…stupid, pathetic dreams.”

Her hands fisted in my shirt now, no longer hitting, just clinging.

“But I can’t,” she whispered, devastated, “and it hurts so much that you think that of me, too.”

I felt like I might break down, too, if I let her speak another word. So, I just wrapped my arms around her fully, crushing her against me, locking her shaking body into my chest like force alone could keep her from splintering apart.

She resisted for half a second, out of pure instinct, then collapsed.

Her weight sagged into me.

“I hate you,” she mumbled, the words barely formed before her control finally gave out.

Her cries broke loose. She buried her face into my chest, fists clutching me in a world that kept knocking her down.

Fuck, she is going to kill me, demolish me…this woman is going to end me. There was never another outcome.

I held her so fucking tight, like if I loosened my grip even a fraction, she’d slip through me and disappear. My eyes pressed shut as I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in like my oxygen.

“I wanted this, princess, I really wanted it…more than you could ever imagine,” I muttered into her hair, “I never thought about having a family before, the idea of it died somewhere along the way, got buried, didn’t mean anything to me,” My voice was rough around the edges, “But with you, fuck, with you, I wanted everything. The whole stupid picture. All of it.”

My hand slid to the back of her head, cradling her, my fingers brushing, weaving through her hair like I could shield her brain by touch alone.

Her cries softened as she listened to me.

“You would never hurt our kid,” I said. “Never. You’d be the best mother, there’s no doubt in my mind. That’s not why I said what I said.”

I stroked her hair slowly and soothingly, trying to bleed the violence out of my system. Every nerve in my body screamed for release, for blood, for destruction, for something to annihilate, but who do I kill when the monster I am seeking lives inside her head?

“I went to Malcolm today,” I said quietly. “He figured something out.”

Her body tensed slightly.

“There’s…something in your brain,” I continued, forcing the words out carefully, gently, “A mass, not a tumor, but something that’s been there a long time.” My fingers brushed her skull without thinking, and my chest tightened at the thought of it living there. Waiting. “Its size and where it sits…it explains everything you’ve been going through.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes wide and glassy, searching my face like she was bracing for impact.

“It’s behind everything,” I said softly. “The headaches, the dissociation, the memory gaps. The way stress and certain emotions knock you off balance.” My thumb wiped at her cheeks, catching tears she’d shed because of me, too many of them. “It gets triggered by overload, by fear, by intensity.”

I drew in a breath that burned all the way down.

“He said a pregnancy right now would be dangerous for you,” I whispered. “Until we understand this, until there’s a form treatment or management, or something.” I shook my head, “That’s why I lost it. That’s why I said what I said. I didn’t mean it to come out the way it did.”

Her eyes flickered with confusion, then fear.

“I phrased it all wrong, I know,” I said as my forehead dropped to hers, my eyes closing.

“But the thought of losing you,” I mumbled, “The thought of you bleeding from somewhere no one can reach in time, of you not coming back from something I could’ve stopped—”

“I can live without everything, Aylin,” I whispered, “But I can’t live in a world where you don’t breathe.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked into her beautiful green ones.

They were exhausted. Not teary now, worse than that. Empty in the way a forest looks after a storm has torn it apart. Clouded, ravaged, like something wild had passed through and left nothing standing but silence.

I brushed the top of her cheek with my thumb. “Come back with me,” I said. “Let’s start figuring this thing out.”

She shook her head once, then twice. She brought her hands up and rested them above mine over her face, gently pulling them away from her.

“No, I don’t…I don’t want to,” She muttered.

Her voice thinned. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting away as if the world suddenly felt too loud, too bright, too close.

“I’m just…” Her breath hitched. Her shoulders sank. “I’m just so tired. It’s been a horrible couple of days. I’m so tired.”

I didn’t know if it was the hours of research I’ve done, or the way my body had become tuned to her like an addiction, but I felt it before it happened, the shift. The split-second when she stopped being fully here.

The beginning of the slip.

Her gaze didn’t just look away, it unhooked. Her pupils went slightly unfocused, like her mind was taking a step back from the room. Her breathing turned uneven. She blinked too slowly, her lids heavier with every second, as if her brain was dragging a door shut behind her and she was trying to wedge her fingers in the frame.

“No,” she whispered again, but this time it sounded like it wasn’t meant for me.

It sounded like it was meant for herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heel of her palm to her temple, rubbing as if she could grind the pain down, rub herself back into her body. Her jaw clenched and a wince flickered across her face.

Fight mode.

Last seconds of control before her brain pulled the flight mode.

I stepped in before she could fall out of herself completely, my hands wrapping around her and pulling her closer.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, pulling her close, her forehead brushing my collarbone. “You can let go.”

Her body softened in my embrace, almost instinctively.

I slid my fingers to the side of her neck, right under her jaw, where her pulse lived. I felt it there, fast and frantic at first, beating like it was trying to outrun whatever was coming.

My thumb stroked the skin, gently.

“I am right here,” I whispered into her hair, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She exhaled, shaky and long, almost like surrender.

Her pulse stuttered, then steadied, but her body went heavier against mine. Her hands loosened at her sides, fingers slack, no longer gripping reality.

Her head lolled forward, resting against my chest as if it belonged there and nowhere else.

My throat tightened. I hated this, hated the way her mind abandoned her, hated that it ever needed to.

But I could feel it, she wasn’t fighting anymore. She couldn’t. She’d handed the wheel to nothingness because being present hurt too much.

I wrapped one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, and lifted her into my arms. She hummed, softly, almost in satisfaction as her cheek pressed to the fabric of my shirt.

Her lashes rested too low.

Her lips parted slightly on a slow breath.

I carried her out toward my car. The sky chose that moment to split open, and rain poured down, soaking my hair, my shoulders, plastering her golden strands to my shirt as I moved, protecting her face with my body.

Adam was leaning against my car, scrolling through his phone like my world wasn’t on literal fire. He straightened when he saw me, his eyes dropping to her half-conscious form in my arms. His brows knitted.

“Is she okay?”

I shot him a glare…was that fucking worry in his voice?

“Open the door,” I snapped.

He caught my tone and moved immediately, wordless now, pulling the passenger door open and stepping back.

I lowered her in carefully, guiding her body, leaning the seat back so her head wouldn’t drop forward. She didn’t protest or move. She didn’t even fully blink, half here, half already gone.

I brushed the damp beneath her eyes, tucked her wet hair behind her ear, and for a second, my hand lingered on her cheek. Then I forced myself back, shut the door, and turned away.

Adam had already scrubbed the concern off his face, returning to that neutral mask he wore all too well. “What do you want me to do now?”

I shook my head, rain dripping off my jaw. “Nothing,” I muttered, brushing past him. “I’ll call you.”

I slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the heater up to maximum. She was still shaking, small tremors running through her even in sleep. By the time I pulled away, her breathing had evened out, her body finally giving in to exhaustion.

Every instinct in me screamed to take her to my place, to lock the doors, to keep her where I could see her breathe.

I didn’t.

For once, I went against myself, because she’d been through enough for one day.

So I parked a little distance away from her grandfather’s damned mansion, killed the engine, and sat there, waiting for her to wake up.

For an hour, I stayed exactly where I was, my body angled toward her because she was my gravity. I brushed my fingers through her hair. I traced the soft curve of her face, memorizing it all over again, like I hadn’t already carved it into my bones.

Fuck.

I missed her so much it bordered on physical pain. A deep, gnawing ache under my ribs, and she keeps punishing me with distance.

She stayed fast asleep, and my mind couldn’t shut the fuck up. It kept replaying everything from today, every explanation that somehow made the truth heavier instead of clearer.

Her chest rose and fell evenly, so peaceful and unaware. Her face looked untouched by the wreckage she carries inside her skull, like sleep granted her a temporary ceasefire.

God, I would burn the world to keep that face peaceful. I would ruin nations and erase bloodlines. Anything to keep her safe, relaxed, and happy.

And lately?

I’ve been the one stealing that happiness from her.

That realization settled somewhere ugly in my chest.

I needed to fix this, but…I didn’t know how.

I was raised on damage, bred in ruin. I know how to break things, how to control chaos, how to start wars, not how to…soften myself into something safe, not how to turn a lifetime of violence into something domestic.

Fuck, this isn’t my territory by any means, but it has to be.

Because what comes next will break her if she faces it alone, and I need to be the one standing there when everything else tries to swallow her.

I need to be the one who keeps her smiling through the worst of it.

Her lashes fluttered, once, twice. A low sound slipped from her throat, half moan, half complaint, then her eyes pried open properly, hazy and unfocused as they found my face.

For a second, she just stared.

Then the fog cleared enough for panic to bloom.

Her eyes widened, and she shot upright so fast her hair stuck to her cheek. She looked around in trepidation, “Uh…where are we…how—?”

“You kind of passed out,” I said, keeping it short.

Her gaze snapped back to me. She rubbed her fists over her eyes as I added, “I brought you to your grandfather’s house,” I added, and I couldn’t stop the bitterness in my tone, like it physically offended me to say it.

She froze. Then leaned toward the window, peering out at the distant gates like she needed visual proof I hadn’t lied.

When she looked back at me, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“And you didn’t use this chance to drag me to your place?”

I let out a sigh, “I know, so tragic,” I grumbled, “I hate this character development arc you are forcing me to go through, but what can I do?”

She flashed me a look, half confused, half too tired to argue, and stayed quiet, shutting me out the way she does when she doesn’t want me inside her head.

I hate it when she does that.

It makes me want to crack her skull open, not to hurt her, never that, just to see what’s happening in there. To read every thought like a file, especially the ones with my name on them.

“I should go down,” She mumbled lowly, and why did she look slightly…disappointed?

Her hand curled around the door handle, and she slipped out.

I was out a second later, already at her side before she could make a sprint for her precious little fortress, her grandfather’s castle that I’m going to set on fire if she hides in it too long.

She stopped when she realised I’d followed, she faced me, shifting awkwardly on her feet like she hadn’t decided whether to talk to me or ignore me.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, forcing my posture into something casual.

“So,” I said, tilting my head. “Where do we go from here? Beside you running upstairs and me breaking in through the window like a lunatic,” I added with a wink, hoping to get a reaction from her.

Her lips pressed together. A faint twitch appeared, then vanished. She looked away, then back at me.

“I don’t…know,” she admitted. “I think I need some time. My head is all over the place after everything. I just need to…sort things out.”

I nodded, “Okay. Time, I can do time.” I paused, then added with a grim little shrug, “I’ll hate every second of it, obviously, but I can do it. I’ll try.”

She eyed me confusedly, like she couldn’t tell if this was real or if I was laying out a trap.

“I want space too,” she added, almost testing me. Pushing the boundary and watching what I’d do with it.

My jaw ticked. I took a breath through my nose.

“Okay,” I said, too calm, like it physically hurt. “Time and space. Got it.”

“I think I will stay here with grandpa for a while,” She added, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, “Mom is staying here too, and it’s helping us become…closer.”

“Ahh, so she finally decided to act like a real mother, huh?” I asked, my first instinct to misbehave more powerful than anything else, “Must’ve been my influence on her, I kind of gave her a lecture, you’re very welcome by the way, you really should thank me that I’d kidnapped her, I mean—”

I paused when I caught her glaring at me.

“Too early to joke about it? Okay, got it,” I said, sighing in resignation.

I huffed out, “Okay, listen, if I tell you I never had a mother and therefore I’m emotionally unqualified to understand your little bonding journey…” I tapped my chest once. “Would you pity me and forgive me?”

I leaned in a fraction, my brows lifting with calculated innocence. “Shall I play the pity card, princess? I have a whole deck. Tragic childhood, abandonment issues, a charming personality disorder, pick your favorite.”

“Nathan,” She said it in that scolding, slightly whiny way of hers that gets me hard.

“God,” I muttered, glancing down, “we’re gonna have to teach my guy down there the time and space concept too. He’s clearly struggling with the syllabus.”

The green of her eyes lightened slightly the more I spoke nonsense, and her lips slightly twitched, but she fought against it and looked away. She crossed her arms over her chest, defensively, as if to keep me at arm’s length.

“Anyway, time. Space. You’re staying here.” I rolled my eyes, “What else is on the list of things that’ll kill Nathan slowly?”

“You won’t show up everywhere I go,” she said firmly. “I don’t know how you do it, whether you have a tracker on me, or you follow me around, but you’re stopping it.”

Fuck. Not this.

“I’ll…try,” I said, carefully.

“Not try,” she corrected. “You won’t be a creepy stalker. That’s all.”

“But it’s one of my most charming qualities, how could I quit it?”

She shot me a hard look.

I lifted my hands in surrender, “Okay, fine. Time. Space. You’re staying here, and no lurking.”

Since she didn’t say anything about Adam keeping an eye on her, I technically wasn’t lying. Loopholes, man, I love them.

She nodded, “That’s all for now.”

I nodded back, “Okay, awesome,” I said sarcastically, “Now comes my list,” I said, and her eyebrow raised.

“What?” I asked ever so innocently, “This is a two-way street, princess.”

She shook her head like she physically couldn’t take more of me.

“First things first, unblock me,” I said, still very bitter about that, “Because if you don’t, I will completely forget what the words time and space mean and I’ll revert to my factory settings and lock you up somewhere far away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Nathan—”

“I’m serious,” I cut in, “And once you come back to me, because you will eventually, you are gonna be punished for that, thoroughly. I am not merciful by any means, you know me.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head, dismissing the thought before it formed. “Since you’ve started speaking nonsense again,” she said, turning on her heel, “I’m leaving. Bye.”

I caught her elbow and turned her back before she could escape. I pulled her into me, her chest almost crashing against mine, her breath hitching at the closeness.

“I meant it,” I said quietly, looking down at her, at the red beneath her eyes, at the bruised look of her lashes, at the way she still seemed to be carrying this fucked up day in her bones, “One day, you’ll be a great mother, and we will have all of that, I know that we will, I promise you that we will, and I tend to keep my promises,” My eyebrow raised, “Unlike some people.”

Her eyes dimmed slightly, almost like she didn’t believe in that, almost like she was sure she’d lose the war against this disease.

I lifted a hand, curled it beneath her chin, and tipped her face up until she had no choice but to meet my eyes.

“How many kids do you want to have?”

She blinked at me, startled. “What?”

“Come on.” My thumb brushed her jaw. “I want an answer. I’m collecting data.”

She shook her head, slightly thrown off her axis. “I never…thought about it. I don’t know.”

“Hm. Okay,” I said thoughtfully. “Me? I want a bunch. I kind of promised Maria that, and she’s been relentless about it.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. Fucking victory.

Mine curved up instantly, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, “But let’s say three for now.”

Her eyes widened. “Three?”

I nodded, dead serious. “Yeah. Ideally, all girls, but we need to pass this handsome face down to someone.” I pointed at myself. “Ronald was useless and failed to contribute to the gene pool, and Natalie already corrupted our bloodline with Nikolas’s genes.” I grimaced. “So the burden falls on me. Two girls, one boy.”

She stared at me, stunned, then something in her shoulders eased as if my ridiculous little universe was dragging her out of the one she was drowning in.

I kept going, obviously.

“I’ll love the girls more, by the way,” I added casually. “Just setting expectations early. The boy’s gonna be a menace, clearly inherited.” I smirked. “I can already imagine him, the little punk, always causing chaos and tormenting his sisters.”

I shook my head, “I’ll beat the crap out of him for that.”

She let out a sound that was dangerously close to a laugh.

“The girls, though, they’ll look just like you,” I went on, softly, my hand lifting to frame her beautiful face, tracing what I already knew by heart, “So I’m gonna love them with everything in me.”

Fuck, did I just say that cursed word out loud?

Thankfully, she didn’t comment on it, so I carried on before she’d catch up to it.

“But,” I added quickly, shifting gears, “on second thought, the little monster’s gonna feel outnumbered. So maybe we give him a brother, too. Okay, final offer, two girls, two boys. Non-negotiable.”

She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. “Easy for you to plan all that when you won’t be doing any of the carrying.”

I scoffed. “Hey. Not my fault. God gave me a dick, clearly because he trusted me to use it responsibly.” I winked. “For the greater good.”

She shook her head at me.

“I can still help, though,” I added, sliding my palm to her lower back and pulling her in just enough to feel her, “Like relieving your stress and frustration,” My gaze dipped to her sweet lips.

She rolled her eyes, swatted my chest, and pushed herself back. “We’ll see about that.”

Her expression, which was light and peaceful, shifted the second she thought too deeply about it, as if she’d been yanked out of a softer reality and shoved back into the dark one.

“Aylin,” I said, the humor draining out of my voice.

She looked up at me.

“Time and space away from me doesn’t mean you stop seeing Malcolm,” I said firmly. “You’re going to him. You’re starting whatever treatment he recommends. I’ll keep checking in with him on this, okay?”

Temporarily, we do this by the book until I figure out how to tear the book apart and write a better ending.

“He was about to explain everything to me,” I added, “but I got…distracted.”

She gulped down but nodded nevertheless. “I will,” She said, her eyes flickering down to my chest, “True, it turned out that I am not…not pregnant but that whole thing felt like a…wake-up call. I should at least try, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, you will.” My thumb brushed her hand. “It’s going to work out, princess. In the end, we’re going to have everything we want. I know that, and I won’t let anything, or anyone, stand in the way of that.”

She looked at me then, and something steadier settled in her eyes. Determination, and maybe, just maybe, belief…in me?

“Okay,” I sighed, forcing myself to step back. “I have to let you go now, which I hate, but don’t let this whole time-and-space thing stretch for too long.”

“I’ve got limits. Ignore me long enough, and I will come kidnap you. Capiche?”

She smiled softly. “Capiche.”

She took a step back.

“Hey,” I said. “No goodbye kiss?”

Her lips curved as she shook her head. “See you later, Nathan.” Then she turned and walked away.

I leaned back against the car, my eyes tracking her until she disappeared inside, my chest tight and burning with something dangerously close to hope.

Whatever this takes, patience, restraint, or carving parts of myself down to fit her, I’ll do it.

I don’t lose what’s mine. I wouldn’t, not this time around.

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Aylin’s POV

My body still felt wrong as I stepped inside the house, too light and too heavy at the same time. My steps wobbled, uncoordinated, as if I’d been shaken loose from myself and put back together badly. I couldn’t fully grasp what had happened today. Every time I tried, my mind slipped, skidded away from it.

I scanned the living room, searching for Grandpa or for Mom, but couldn’t find either.

I moved toward the stairs, one hand brushing the wall for balance, when voices reached me, muted at first, then sharper as I climbed higher, most probably coming from grandpa’s study.

I headed there quickly, needing his hug more than anything after this draining day I’ve had, but the closer I got, the clearer the sounds became.

They weren’t calm.

They were edged and tense, even…arguing?

My stomach dipped.

Old memories stirred, blurred flashes of their raised voices, my name spoken like a problem that never quite went away. Every fight they’d ever had had always circled back to me. Always.

I stopped by the half-open door, my breath shallow, knowing I shouldn’t eavesdrop.

I did anyway.

“So what now?” Grandpa snapped, anger threading his voice. “You’re just going to leave?”

I leaned in just enough to see inside.

He stood by his desk, rigid, his hands braced against the wood. Mom stood opposite him, shaking her head, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was trying to hold herself together.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just…I can’t do this.”

She sounded so close to tears. I’d seen her cry more in the last few days than I had in our entire lives combined.

“You can’t, Layla, god, can’t you see it? She needs you, she needs us, now more than ever,” He shot out, always taking my side, “No wonder she went for the likes of that unhinged fucker, when she doesn’t have the support of her only family, of course she would search for safety somewhere else.”

My chest tightened painfully, and I frowned. I hated that sentence, every word of it.

“You don’t get it, Dad,” Mom said, her voice hardening.

“Oh, I fucking do,” Grandpa shot back. “She needs you here, Layla. Isn’t it enough that Adrian is never around? He’s out there drowning in whatever self-destructive bullshit he prefers instead of being a father.”

I stilled for a second. It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak about Dad like that.

“Don’t talk about him that way,” Mom snapped immediately, defending him, and I couldn’t understand why.

Grandpa rolled his eyes, exhaling a breath thick with frustration. He moved away from her, around the desk, and dropped heavily into his chair like his body had finally given up.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered. “Still defending that slimy asshole?”

I blinked. Wow. Grandpa really curses a lot when I’m not around.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Mom shot back. “It’s not his fault he couldn’t handle everything we went through, especially what you put him through.”

Put him through what?

“It’s not his fault,” she continued, “He wasn’t trained like me to shove everything down and pretend it’s fine. He had a normal, loving family, Dad. Not like me.” Her voice cracked. “When I bit my tongue and powered through after what happened, he couldn’t. He broke down, like anyone would. So yeah, maybe he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, drank until he lost everything.” She swallowed hard. “But I never blamed him. Not once.”

Grandpa didn’t look satisfied by any of her words, “You still love him, don’t you?”

Mom looked away, refusing to answer that.

“You blame me for the divorce,” Grandpa said then. “Don’t you?”

She nodded.

My head spun.

How was any of this Grandpa’s fault?

Mom and Dad had always been fighting, as far back as I could remember. That was the only version of them my mind could hold onto.

“If you had let me tell him everything when it happened,” Mom said, shaking her head, “it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “You made me lie to him.”

Lie to him about what?

“You didn’t see him, Dad,” she went on, the words coming faster now, like something she’d kept locked up was finally breaking out. “You didn’t see how broken he was when he learned the truth. When I took him there…he just broke down crying.”

“Adrian and I have been through hell a lot,” Mom whispered, wiping at her face angrily, “But you never cared about that. You never cared about us, you never cared about me.”

Grandpa’s jaw tightened. “I don’t regret a thing I did,” he said, unwavering. “Because everything I did was for Aylin.”

My breath caught.

For me?

How was any of this about me?

“You and Adrian never treated her the way she deserved,” Grandpa snapped. “That little girl has been through enough already.”

“And I’ve been through a lot too!” Mom’s voice rose, loud enough that I flinched even outside the room. “We tried. God…I tried.” She slammed her fist against her own chest, “I’m trying now, I am, but just…just looking at her hurts, being with her is painful. It’s so painful. I can’t—I can’t handle that pain anymore. I’ve handled enough for a lifetime.”

My vision blurred, the edges of the world softening as if my eyes were rejecting what my ears had already accepted.

Why…why is my mere existence so painful for her?

Why?

What could I have possibly done to deserve all of this blame from her?

⊹˚₊‧────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hello 🙂

It was fun to watch you start planning the baby shower and all lol xD

I hate sudden pregnancy tropes, so no, that won’t happen like this. If my characters are ending up together, they will because they want to, not because of a baby.

But they needed this, especially Aylin.

Anyway, like I said, more and more will be revealed as we go on. You will just need to connect the dots, it’s not that complicated actually xD

See ya soon 👼🏻🪦