A soft golden light spilled through the lacy curtains, gently painting the morning in pastel warmth. The world was quiet, as if holding its breath for the moment that had just been born.
Alina stirred, tangled in the warmth of the blanket—and in Evander's arms.
Her cheek rested against his chest, her arm draped across his waist. His steady heartbeat played like a lullaby in the silence. She felt safe, unaware for a few more seconds that the arms encircling her belonged to the man who had once stormed into her life like a tempest… and had now become her calm.
Evander's eyes opened slowly, blinking away sleep. For a moment, he was confused by the unfamiliar softness pressed against him. But then his gaze fell on her.
Alina.
Her lashes were fluttering, her lips slightly parted, and her hair had fallen across her cheek like a wild, dark curtain. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Without thinking, he reached forward, fingers moving gently to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
That's when her eyes opened.
Wide. Warm. Vulnerable.
Their eyes locked—startled yet strangely calm. The moment stretched like a held breath, suspended between dream and waking, between fear and fascination. Neither of them moved, as if the silence between them was saying more than words ever could.
But reality crashed down with the weight of awareness.
Alina suddenly sat up, her cheeks turning crimson. "Oh no... I-I didn't mean to—" she stammered, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself as if it could erase the accidental intimacy.
Evander also scrambled up, rubbing the back of his neck, equally awkward. "I guess… we fell asleep while talking."
"Yeah," she replied, avoiding his eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.
The air was thick with unspoken emotions—awkwardness, warmth, shyness… and something else neither of them dared to name.
Trying to push the awkwardness away, Alina cleared her throat. "I-I'll go make breakfast. You… you can freshen up."
Evander nodded with a soft smile. "Sure."
---
The kitchen clattered with soft sounds—the clink of plates, the sizzle of butter, the boiling of water. Alina focused hard on her task, hoping that the scent of toast would somehow calm her racing heart.
She placed the plates on the table and turned—only to freeze in place.
Evander stood near the kitchen doorway.
Fresh out of the shower.
Shirtless.
His hair wet, towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water gliding down his well-defined torso like silver beads.
Her eyes widened, and her heart jumped up her throat. Her breath hitched.
She tried to look away, but failed.
Evander smirked, catching her reaction. "Something wrong?" he asked innocently.
Alina's hands trembled slightly. "Y-You… shouldn't come out like that! There's a girl in the room, you know!"
He stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Why? Are you feeling nervous?" He leaned slightly in. "Hot?" His voice dropped. "Shy?"
Alina's face was a shade of red not even roses could match. She swallowed hard, backing away. "I-I need to go to work! Move, Evander."
He stepped even closer. Her palms landed on his chest to push him away, but his hand caught her wrist, gently, but firmly.
"Let me go," she whispered breathlessly.
He looked into her eyes for a beat longer than necessary, then released her hand with a knowing smile. "Fine. Go. But who'll take care of me?"
Alina turned, flustered beyond measure, and stomped toward the door. "I'll be back early. If you need anything… text me."
"Anything?" he called after her.
"Shut up!" she yelled from the door, and then escaped like a storm barely contained.
---
The library was quiet, but Alina's thoughts were screaming.
Her fingers hovered over the books she was supposed to stack, yet all she could think about was Evander. His smile. His warmth. That morning.
She was still lost in her thoughts when her phone buzzed. A missed call from Dad.
She was about to call back when the phone rang again. This time, she picked up instantly.
But it wasn't his voice.
It was her mother's.
"Alina, hurry up—come quickly! Your dad… his condition's gotten worse."
Her heart stopped. "W-What? Wait—Mom, what happened to him—?"
But the line had already disconnected.
No time to think. No time to explain.
She left work without a word, panic wrapping its hands around her throat.
---
Back at the apartment, she knocked on Evander's door. He opened it, surprised.
"You're early," he said, eyes searching her face. "Is everything alright?"
"I… I got a call from my mom. She said… Dad's health is worse. I-I need to go," her voice cracked. "Evander… would you come with me?"
Evander's expression shifted from confusion to concern. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. "Of course I'll come."
She clung to him, trying to hold back the flood rising inside her.
---
The hospital was cold. Too white. Too sterile. The kind of place where even hope came with a warning label.
Her father lay unconscious, pale and still. Machines beeped rhythmically, but his chest barely moved.
Her stepmother stood beside the bed, tense and trembling. When Alina entered, she turned sharply.
Anger flashed in her eyes, but one look from Evander—stern, silent, commanding—kept her quiet. For now.
Alina approached with hesitant steps. "What… what happened to him?"
Her stepmother sniffled, folding her arms. "He just… fainted while we were having breakfast."
The doctor soon emerged, clipboard in hand. Evander stepped forward.
"What's the situation?"
The doctor glanced at the notes. "There seems to be a possible issue with his brain function. We suspect a neurological disorder. We'll need to do some scans. If it's what we think, he might need surgery."
The words felt like knives. Alina's knees buckled, and she gripped the back of the chair.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
But before she could find a voice, a hand grabbed her shoulder—rough and cold.
Her stepmother turned her around and, without warning, slapped her across the face.
"You're the reason!" she screamed. "You… you unfortunate wretch! He wanted you to settle down, to get married! But you refused, didn't you?! And now look! Look what your selfishness has done!"
Another slap came—almost—but this time, Evander caught her wrist mid-air.
His voice was low, dangerous. "Don't."
Her stepmother gasped. "She's the reason—!"
"If you raise your hand on her again," he said, eyes burning, "I'll forget what it means to respect elders."
His tone shut her up more effectively than a thousand arguments.
Alina broke down, sobbing into her hands. Evander turned to her, wrapping his arms around her, shielding her from the world.
"It's okay," he whispered, "I'm here. You're not alone."
She clutched his shirt, broken and shaken, and let the storm fall from her eyes.
---
The hospital lights dimmed as dusk arrived, but inside Alina's chest, the ache only grew heavier.
And Evander held her hand, quietly praying that somehow… he could take her pain away.