Elian sat still in the water, the sky above his mansion painted in quiet hues of dusk. Steam rose gently from the heated pool, curling around his sculpted frame. His eyes were blank, fixed on nothing and everything all at once.
He'd been there for hours.
Ever since he returned from the hospital, something inside him had stayed frozen. The world kept spinning, people kept talking, but he remained somewhere in between—half in reality, half in memory. He remembered the beeping of the monitors, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the way his chest felt too heavy to rise. He remembered the loneliness.
He remembered the voices. And the one that didn't come—his twin's.
Not even Kian had been able to reach him.
He ran a hand through his soaked long hair, letting the water drip down his temples. Maybe if he stayed under long enough, the thoughts would dissolve.
Outside the mansion gates, Ava adjusted the strap of her bag. She hadn't planned to be here—not really. She told herself she was just passing by. But when she saw the delivery man walking up the long stone path, holding a bottle of perfume and a bouquet of white gardenias, her heart paused.
"For Elian Storm?" she asked casually.
The man nodded.
"I'll deliver it," she said quickly, flashing her work ID. "I'm his secretary."
Before he could argue, she'd swapped the package for a little cash and a forced smile.
Ava didn't know what exactly compelled her to do it. Elian hated her. He never hid it. And she'd made peace with not caring. But ever since he got out of the hospital, something about him felt… off. Darker. Colder. She heard he hadn't spoken to Kian. Had barely said a word to Red, his friend.He was isolating himself like a wounded animal.
It wasn't like her to care. But somehow, she did.
As she stepped inside the sprawling mansion, the silence greeted her like a wave. The scent of chlorine and expensive cologne lingered in the air. She followed the sound of rippling water to the back terrace.
And there he was.
Elian Storm. In the pool, half-submerged, hair slicked back, jaw clenched. His skin shimmered under the fading light. His body was all hard lines and restrained power.
He looked like something out of a myth—untouchable, carved by the gods.
Ava's breath caught. She shook her head and adjusted the cap on her head, hoping the brim would hide her staring.
She walked toward him quietly, but the floor betrayed her. Her foot hit a slick patch of water and slipped out from under her.
There was no time to scream.
She crashed into the pool with a splash, her head hitting the tiled edge on the way down. The cold water swallowed her. She gasped and flailed, momentarily disoriented.
Elian didn't move at first. His expression didn't even change.
But then, with a sigh so faint it was almost a growl, he swam toward her, cutting through the water effortlessly. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the surface.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, almost bored, as if dragging someone from drowning was a daily inconvenience.
Ava blinked at him, water streaming from her lashes. "Delivering flowers," she muttered with a sheepish smile.
He rolled his eyes and hoisted her out of the pool like she weighed nothing. "Leave," he said simply.
She nodded and staggered to her feet, trying to maintain whatever shred of dignity she had left. But the world around her tilted. Her knees buckled. The pain in her head blossomed behind her eyes, and before she could touch the doorknob
Darkness.
She fainted.
Elian caught her before she hit the floor.
For a moment, he just stood there, holding her against him. Water dripped from her clothes onto his bare chest. She was unconscious, fragile in a way she never allowed herself to be when awake.
With a low grunt, he lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.
He told himself it was just to avoid a lawsuit.she lay quietly on the couch, her breathing steady, her face pale but calm. Elian's family doctor had just finished examining her, packing away his tools with a practiced ease.
"No signs of a concussion," the doctor said, straightening. "No broken bones. Just exhaustion and a mild bump to the head. She should wake up soon."
Elian gave a short nod, barely looking up from his laptop. "Thanks."
Once the doctor left, silence reclaimed the room. Only the soft clicks of Elian's keyboard filled the space as he worked from the armchair, posture straight, mind sharp.
His project deadline was close—an ambitious pitch that could determine the future of his grandfather's international expansion plans. He revised numbers, adjusted graphs, reworded sentences with the precision of someone who didn't allow distractions.
But she was a distraction.
Every few minutes, his gaze flicked toward the couch. Her presence was like a static current in the air—silent but unignorable. No sarcastic quips. No sharp retorts. Just stillness.
Finally, when the lines on his screen began to blur and his thoughts felt heavy, Elian closed the laptop and stood. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room as he moved toward her.
He knelt beside the couch, studying her face. Without all the noise, without the tension, she looked… soft. Guard down. Peaceful in a way he hadn't seen before.
His fingers brushed her cheek lightly—curious, hesitant. Her skin was warm. Not feverish. Just alive.
He sat there for a moment, unmoving.
He told himself he was checking if she was okay. That was all.
---
A soft groan broke the stillness.
Elian froze, hand still resting lightly against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered once… twice… then opened slowly.
Confusion clouded her gaze as she blinked up at the ceiling, then turned her head slightly—just enough to see him.
"You again," she mumbled, voice hoarse.
Elian leaned back slightly, the usual indifference returning to his face, though something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "You're awake."
She shifted, winced, and raised a hand to her temple. "What… happened?"
"You fell into the pool. Hit your head," he said simply. "Doctor said you're fine. Just unconscious. Dramatic, but not dying."
She let out a weak, unamused laugh. "Didn't know you cared."
"I don't," he said too quickly. Then after a pause, "But lawsuits are expensive."
She rolled her eyes, but even that looked like effort. "Charming as ever."
There was silence for a moment, heavy but not hostile. She glanced around, noticing the blanket over her and the faint scent of coffee and paper in the air.
"You carried me in?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away. Then, "Yes."
"…Thanks."
His brows lifted slightly. She'd said it so softly, so sincerely, it caught him off guard.
"You're welcome," he said quietly.
Another pause. Then she pushed herself up a little with a groan. He instinctively reached to steady her, but she waved him off.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice trembled a little.
"Clearly."
She sighed. "Can I leave now, or are you going to file a complaint first?"
He smirked. "You hit your head. You're staying until I'm sure you won't collapse again. I'd rather not mop the floor twice in one day."
She stared at him. He stared back.
And then—for the first time—it felt less like a battle, and more like a conversation
"Enjoyed this? Don't forget to add to your library and drop a power point!"
Ready for more? Catch the next chapter tomorrow