chapter 7
1056 Words
Chapter 7 – Elena’s POV
Morning light is cruel.
It doesn’t care about the beauty of last night. It doesn’t soften. It shows everything for what it is — flaws, shadows, truths you’d rather keep in the dark.
I woke up tangled in the old sofa, the blanket barely covering us, Adrian’s arm draped over my waist like he owned that right. His breathing was steady, deep. A kind of peace I’d never seen in him before.
For a moment, I didn’t move.
I just watched.
His hair was messy, falling across his forehead. His lips, usually pressed into hard lines of control, were relaxed now. He looked younger, almost vulnerable. And that was the most dangerous part — because it made me want more.
---
The Weight of Last Night
I should have been afraid. Not of him, but of myself.
Because I let him in. Not just into my home, not just into my bed, but into the parts of me I’d sworn were off-limits.
The chaos. The scars. The fact that I wasn’t built for permanence.
I’d kissed him like drowning, like burning, like it was the last time I’d ever taste something so alive. And worse — I hadn’t stopped.
---
He shifted in his sleep, pulling me closer unconsciously, his chest pressed against my back now. Warmth spread through me, traitorous and intoxicating.
I closed my eyes, biting my lip. Don’t, Elena. Don’t let yourself fall. He’s not yours. He can’t be.
But my body betrayed me, relaxing against him like it had finally found a home.
---
Flashback – The Door
I kept seeing it in flashes. His hands on my jaw, his words, the way he looked at me like I was more than the mess I’d always been.
“Because I’d rather burn than go back to stone.”
God, what was I supposed to do with a man who said things like that? Who kissed me like chaos was salvation?
It had been so long since anyone had touched me without asking for pieces I wasn’t willing to give. Adrian didn’t take — he consumed. And worse, he gave back.
---
I slipped out from under his arm carefully, trying not to wake him. The floorboards creaked under my bare feet as I padded to the kitchen corner.
My apartment looked like itself again now — chaotic, messy, streaked with paint and unfinished thoughts. But something about it felt different. Like he’d left fingerprints on more than just my skin.
I poured water into a chipped mug and leaned against the counter, staring at him across the room.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I wasn’t supposed to let someone in who could unravel me.
And yet…
---
“Stop staring,” his voice murmured, rough with sleep.
I jumped, the mug nearly slipping from my hands. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but a slow smirk curved his lips.
“You weren’t asleep,” I accused.
“Was enjoying it,” he countered, finally opening his eyes, that stormy grey locking on me. “You, watching me like you don’t know whether to kiss me or kick me out.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You’re very full of yourself, Hale.”
“Only when I’m right.”
---
I walked back over, setting the mug on the coffee table. “So what now? Do you plan on invading every corner of my life, or was last night just an experiment for you?”
His eyes sharpened, no trace of humor now. “Is that what you think this is? An experiment?”
I crossed my arms, needing the armor. “You tell me. You live in your glass towers. I live in chaos. You don’t belong here.”
He stood slowly, bare feet on the paint-stained floor, and the sight alone made my throat tighten. Adrian Hale, untouchable architect, standing in my mess like it was holy ground.
He stopped in front of me, his hand brushing a streak of dried gold paint from my wrist. “You think I don’t belong. But last night was the first time I’ve ever felt like I did.”
---
His lips were on mine before I could argue, softer this time, lingering. Not fire — warmth. A dangerous kind of warmth that seeped into bone.
I broke the kiss first, breathless. “You scare me.”
He cupped my face, his forehead pressed to mine. “Good. Because you terrify me too.”
---
The words hung there. Terrify.
I pulled back, pacing now, needing distance. “Adrian, you don’t understand. People leave. They break. And I’m not the kind of woman you fix your life around. I’m temporary. A spark. That’s all.”
His voice followed me, steady but low. “Then let me burn with you. I’d rather that than spend another lifetime untouched.”
I stopped dead.
God, how do you fight someone who says things like that?
---
I turned back to him, shaking my head, tears pricking my eyes before I could stop them. “Don’t do this. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He closed the gap again, but slower this time, his hands gentle as they found mine. “Elena, I don’t make promises. I make choices. And I’m choosing this. You. Even if it destroys me.”
The worst part? I wanted to believe him.
So badly.
---
We ended up on the sofa again, this time not tangled in fire but in silence. His arm around me, my head against his chest. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty — it was full.
I hated it.
I loved it.
Because silence like that meant something. And I wasn’t ready for “something.”
---
When he finally left that afternoon, pressing one last kiss to my lips at the door, the apartment felt too quiet. Too empty.
I stared at the paint-smeared floor, at the chaos of my life, and whispered to no one:
“Don’t fall, Elena. Don’t you dare fall.”
But deep down, I knew.
I already had.
---
Outside, the city kept moving, indifferent to the storm brewing inside me.
Because for the first time in years, I wasn’t just surviving.
I was terrified.
And alive.
And Adrian Hale was to blame.
---
- Writer
