The sky outside had turned a dull grey, as if the clouds themselves were weighed down by the emotions hanging in the air. A quiet breeze swirled through the narrow Parisian lanes, brushing past shutters and windows, carrying the scent of fresh rain and forgotten stories. Inside Alina's apartment, silence had rooted itself in the walls like ivy—clinging, twisting, growing with every breath she took.
She stood near the window, clutching her arms tightly, replaying the words her stepmom said earlier.
A knock came on the door.
She didn't need to look.
Evander.
He walked in without waiting for her response, his jaw sharp, his eyes sharper. His presence filled the space like a storm—uncontrolled, inevitable.
"You were going to say yes?" he snapped, voice low but trembling with rage. "To that proposal?"
Alina's brows furrowed. "I didn't say yes to anything!"
"But you thought about it," he shot back, stepping closer. "You let it sit in your mind long enough for your eyes to look unsure. That's enough."
"Because I didn't know what else to do!" she snapped back, her voice cracking at the edges. "She showed up out of nowhere after years, bringing a proposal like it was some business deal. She doesn't care about me—she never did."
Evander's chest rose and fell rapidly. "And you think I'd let another man take you like that? Touch you? Claim you?"
Alina's heart pounded against her ribcage like a bird flailing to escape a cage. "Why does it matter to you?" she whispered, voice shaking. "You made a deal with her. You walked away."
He stared at her, wounded. "It matters because it's you. Because the thought of someone else calling you theirs—kills me, Alina. Don't you get it?"
Alina blinked, and tears spilled without permission. "And what about what I want, Evander?" she asked. "You think I want to get married? You think I want to be sold off again like I was nothing? My mother only came to drag me into this mess—to make my life hell again. She didn't even ask how I'm doing. She came with a proposal. Not concern."
Her voice broke completely now, and she fell into a soft sob, covering her mouth with trembling hands. "Why… Why now, after all these years? Just to remind me I was never enough?"
Without another word, Evander crossed the space between them and pulled her into his chest, gently placing her head against his shoulder.
"Let it out," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her like a protective wall. "You don't have to hold it in anymore."
She could feel his heartbeat—strong and steady—under his coat. His scent—clean, woody, a hint of rain—wrapped around her like a memory she never wanted to let go of. Her fingers clutched the fabric near his chest as she silently cried, not just for the proposal or the pain—but for everything she had buried inside her for years.
The world outside faded. In that moment, they weren't two neighbors or two souls haunted by their past. They were just two broken pieces trying to fit into each other's warmth.
Evander rested his cheek against the top of her head, whispering nothing—just silence that spoke louder than any comfort. A silence that healed.
After few hours her phone rang.
She pulled away, hesitating before checking the screen. Her face paled. Stepmother.
With trembling fingers, she picked up. "Hello?"
Her stepmother's voice was sickly sweet. "Alina, your father is sick. Come quickly. He wants to see you."
Alina's breath hitched. "What happened? Is it serious?"
"Just come," she replied vaguely. "He's waiting."
The line went dead.
Alina stared at the phone, heart thudding. "She said… Dad's sick. Wants to see me."
Alina rushed around, packing a few clothes and things in a small bag, hands shaking. Her thoughts were a mess—fear, guilt, confusion. Her father had never truly treated her like a daughter. But somewhere inside, the little girl who once sought his approval still existed. And she couldn't ignore the thought that this might be real.
Just as she was about to lock her door, Evander stepped out of his room across the hall. He froze, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Where are you going?"
"To… to see my dad. He's sick," she replied quickly.
He didn't blink. "You're not going alone."
"Evander, you don't have to—"
"I do," he interrupted firmly. Without another word, he locked his door, grabbed his car keys, and walked up to her. His hand found hers, firm and warm.
"You're so stupid if you think I'd let you face them alone."
Her heart swelled. No one had ever said that to her. No one had stood beside her like this.
She nodded, overwhelmed.
---
The car ride was quiet. Alina kept glancing at him, trying to read the expression on his face. But Evander's jaw was tight, eyes focused on the road, as though driving into a battlefield he already knew too well.
When they finally reached the address, Alina froze.
The mansion in front of them was breathtaking—wide iron gates, trimmed hedges, marble pillars, and stained-glass windows that caught the evening light. It looked like a palace.
"This… this wasn't how it looked before," she murmured. "They've developed so much…"
Evander remained silent, hand on the small of her back as they walked up the steps together.
Inside, a maid directed them to the main hall. Her stepmother appeared a few minutes later, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Take a seat. He'll come in a moment."
Alina's heart raced. She sat down slowly, eyes scanning the place she once called home. The walls were decorated now. Gold-rimmed frames. Expensive sculptures. It all felt too polished, too unnatural.
"Is Dad okay?" she asked cautiously.
Her stepmother rolled her eyes. "He's fine… but maybe he wouldn't be this unwell if you had agreed to marry when I asked. His stress is because of you."
Alina gasped, mouth open in disbelief.
But before she could speak, Evander leaned forward slightly. His gaze turned cold, sharp like broken glass.
"Don't. Speak to her like that again," he warned.
The air shifted.
Her stepmother swallowed her words and turned away.
Moments later, her father finally entered the room. Dressed in a fine beige suit, he looked healthier than she expected. His eyes landed on Evander first, and he gave a small nod. "Nice suit, young man. You look like someone important."
Evander smiled politely. "Thank you, sir."
Alina's heart beat faster as she stood up. "Dad… are you okay? I heard you were sick…"
Her father waved it off. "Nothing serious. Just wanted to see you, Alina. That's all."
Alina's breath caught. Her brows furrowed, and her lips parted in confusion. She glanced at Evander, who was already staring back at her—just as puzzled.
Wanted to see me?
That's all?
The chapter ends—leaving questions like smoke in the air.