A planned engagement

chapter 8

Morning arrived quietly.

Soft sunlight slipped through the curtains, brushing across Alexi’s face. She stirred, her body heavy with sleep—and with memory. The night rushed back to her in fragments: the ring on her finger, his voice, the way his eyes had held hers before he walked away.

She sat up slowly and looked at her hand.

The diamond caught the light.

Her heart skipped.

It wasn’t a dream, she realized. Not this time.

A strange mix of longing and nervous excitement settled in her chest. She could still feel him—his closeness, his restraint, the unspoken promise that had hung in the air between them.

He wanted me, she thought. I know he did.

But he had stopped.

That thought unsettled her more than if he hadn’t.

She stood, smoothed her nightgown, and walked to the window. Outside, the house was calm, the city distant and unaware of the storm inside her. She pressed her forehead lightly against the glass, trying to steady her breathing.

Get yourself together, Alexi.

A knock came at the door.

Her heart jumped.

“Yes?” she called.

The door opened slowly. Nico stood there, freshly dressed, composed—but his eyes gave him away. Darker. Tired. Restless.

“Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Good morning,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt charged, full of everything they hadn’t said the night before.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Not really.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt, desire, maybe both.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” she interrupted quickly. “Don’t apologize.”

Their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

“We’re seeing my grandmother today,” he said after a pause, returning to business like a shield. “She’ll be happy to meet you.”

Alexi nodded. “I want to make a good impression.”

“You already will,” he said softly. Then, catching himself, he stepped back.

“Breakfast is downstairs when you’re ready.”

As he turned to leave, she spoke before she could stop herself.

“Nico.”

He looked back.

“Thank you… for stopping last night.”

For a brief second, he looked like he might cross the room, might pull her into his arms—but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded once and left.

Alexi exhaled shakily and sank onto the bed.

This pretending thing, she thought, is becoming dangerously real.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop.

Morning sunlight poured softly into the house as Alexi descended the stairs. Nico, seated at the table, looked up—and stilled.

For a brief moment, he forgot everything else.

She was dressed in a flowing gown of warm cream, elegant in its simplicity. The fabric fell in gentle folds that skimmed her figure with quiet grace, modest yet undeniably beautiful. The neckline was simple, the sleeves delicate—perfectly suited . Her hair was neatly arranged, framing her face and highlighting her natural beauty without effort.

“You look stunning,” Nico said quietly.

She smiled, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “I wanted something appropriate.”

They shared breakfast in companionable silence, the air calm yet charged. Between bites, their eyes met—brief, lingering glances that carried the memory of the night before. Nothing was spoken, yet everything was understood.

The hospital corridors were hushed, filled with the soft echo of footsteps and distant murmurs. As they approached the room, a figure stepped into view.

“Pete,” Nico said.

His brother stood there, eyes red-rimmed, clearly having just wiped away tears. When he noticed them together, he straightened and forced a small smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you ,” Pete said quietly.

Nico placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “How is she?”

“She’s holding on,” Pete replied.

His gaze shifted to Alexi. “You must be Alexi.”

“Yes,” she said gently. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Pete took her hand carefully and kissed it with respectful warmth, his smile genuine. “The pleasure’s mine. Nico’s spoken about you.”

She returned the smile, touched by his kindness. After a few soft words, Pete stepped aside.

“I’ll give you some space. She’s been waiting for you, Nico.”

With one last look, he walked down the corridor.

They entered the room together.

Alexi’s breath caught.

Nico’s grandmother lay frail against the pillows, her body stilled by illness, machines humming quietly at her side. Movement was difficult; speech came only in fragile fragments. But the moment her eyes fell on Nico, they lit up.

“Nico…” she whispered.

He moved to her bedside at once, taking her hand with care. “I’m here, Grandma.”

Then he turned slightly, guiding Alexi forward. “This is Alexi.”

Slowly, the elderly woman shifted her gaze. Her eyes studied Alexi’s face—and then softened. A fragile smile spread across her lips, filled with quiet joy. With visible effort, she lifted her hand just enough.

Alexi stepped closer and enclosed it gently on her own.

Tears shimmered in the grandmother’s eyes as she looked from Nico to Alexi—together. She nodded weakly, her smile deepening, as though something long-awaited had finally come to rest.

No words were needed.

Nico felt his throat tighten. Alexi blinked back tears.

In that still hospital room, surrounded by soft beeping and pale light, one truth became clear: seeing them together brought the grandmother peace.

For Alexi, in that instant, the pretense had dissolved into something real.

Suddenly, Alexi’s phone began to ring.

She glanced at Nico. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded, silently telling her it was okay to take the call. She rose up.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, stepping out of the room.

The moment she saw the caller ID, her chest tightened. Mom.

She answered quickly.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Oh my God, Alexi,” her mother burst out. “Since you traveled to New York, I’ve been trying to reach you. You could have at least sent a text—if not called.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Alexi said, closing her eyes. “There’s just… a lot going on right now.”

“And what would that be?” her mother asked sharply.

“Mom, please,” Alexi said gently. “Calm down . I’ll explain everything when I’m free, okay?”

There was a brief pause.

“I hope you and Nico are okay.”

“Yes, Mom,” Alexi replied. “We’re perfectly fine.”

“Alright then,” her mother said more calmly. “Do call me when you’re free.”

“I will, Mom.”

She ended the call and turned back—only to find Nico stepping out of the room.

His jaw was tight, his gaze firm. Anger clung to him, but beneath it, Alexi could see something else—pain, held back tears.

She took a step toward him.

“It was my mom,” she said quietly.

“I hope she’s fine,” Nico replied, his voice distant.

“Yes. She is.”

“We should head back now,” he said abruptly, already walking away.

Alexi didn’t blame his coldness. Seeing his grandmother like that must have hurt more than he was willing to show.

She simply stood there, watching him walk away, her heart aching for the words he couldn’t say.

The ride home passed in suffocating silence that early evening.

The moment the car stopped, Nico stepped out without a word and went straight into the house. Alexi hurried after him.

“Nico,” she called, her voice echoing faintly through the halls.

He didn’t answer.

He moved quickly, his footsteps sharp against the marble floors, heading downstairs—to the quiet bar room. Alexi recognized it instantly. It was where she had seen him the night before.

She followed.

When she reached the doorway, she found Nico pouring himself a drink, his back to her, the amber liquid splashing carelessly into the glass.

“Nico, please,” she said, her voice shaking. “Talk to me, you have been avoiding me for hours now.”

“Lexi, not right now,” he replied coldly.

She moved closer anyway. Before he could stop her, she reached out and took the glass of wine from his hand.

His voice cracks with anger, sharp and uncontrollable.

“ Give it back,”he said harshly.

“ No, you don't get to shut me out.” Her hands trembled. Her chest tightened.

He hissed and took another glass and poured himself another

“ Talk to me.” She said "I am just trying to understand you Nico.” Her eyes burned. Tears spilled over before she could stop them.

“Say something,” she cried. “Anything.”

Nico turned away and stood by the window,his shoulders rigid as he drank his wine.

Alexi’s sobs grew louder. She wiped at her face, but the tears kept coming, her body shaking.

When Nico finally turned back, he froze.

He saw her—crying, broken, standing there clutching the forgotten glass in her hands.

Something in his face changed.

The hardness melted. His jaw loosened. Concern flashed through his eyes, raw and unguarded.

“Lexi…” he said softly, stepping toward her as he dropped the glass of wine on the table.

“Lexi…” his voice dropped, thick with regret.

He reached for her, pulling her into his arms as she cried against his chest, the walls he built crumbling at the sound of her pain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her tighter. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He gently took the glass of wine from her hand and set it aside. Before she could speak, he pulled her closer, guiding her down onto his lap as he sank into the chair. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other cradling her back, holding her as though letting go might break her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again and again, his voice low and sincere.

He brushed his fingers through her hair, slow and soothing, pressing her gently against his chest. Alexi rested her face there, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the warmth of him surrounding her.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered once more.

She lifted her head, her eyes still shining with tears. Reaching up, she touched his face, her thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Their gazes locked—soft, searching, full of everything they hadn’t said.

Then he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, unhurried and warm, as if he were apologizing with every touch of his lips. She responded instinctively, melting into him, her hand fisting lightly in his shirt as the world around them faded away.

“Hmmm.”

Anna’s voice broke the moment.

“Food is ready.”

Alexi froze—then immediately became shy, a soft laugh escaping her as she buried her face back into Nico’s chest. He smiled, amused and unbothered, his hand still resting protectively at her back.

“All right, Anna,” he called. “We’re coming.”

Anna smiled knowingly and walked away.

Nico looked down at Alexi.

“Shall we?” he asked.

She nodded, and as they stood, he laced his fingers through hers. Hand in hand, they walked out together.