Chapter 16 Close Enough To Feel
1459 Words
Adam stood rooted to the spot.
The flowers were from Leon. Her controlling, power-hungry ex. He did not deserve Lily; he never had. Adam wanted to go back out there, throw the flowers in the deliveryman's face, and demand that he tell the sender to go to hell. He did not want Leon anywhere near Lily, not now that she was legally his.
"Adam, did you hear me?" Lily exclaimed.
Adam just stood there, staring into space. His eyes fixed on the phone, then the roses.
“Okay,” he said calmly. Too calmly. “Then they’re not staying.”
He reached for the bouquet, fingers already curling around the black wrapping.
“No—” Lily said instinctively, then stopped herself. She wasn’t even sure why she’d spoken. Habit, maybe. Years of being conditioned to smooth things over, to avoid escalation.
Adam paused and looked at her.
“Do you want them here?” he asked, gently but firmly. “In your space?”
She looked at the flowers again. The way they dominated the counter. The way they felt like a statement rather than a gift.
Possession, not affection.
“No,” she said, the word coming out stronger than she expected. “I don’t want them here.”
That was all Adam needed to hear.
He carried the bouquet out of the kitchen and set it down by the front door, well away from the heart of the villa. Not thrown. Not destroyed. Just… removed.
When he came back, Lily realised she’d been holding her breath.
She exhaled slowly.
Her phone buzzed again.
She didn’t look at it this time.
“Block the number,” he said quietly. “All of them. No exceptions.”
Lily hesitated. “What if it’s my mum?”
“If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail,” he replied. “Right now, you don’t owe anyone access to you.”
That word — owe — made something twist in her chest.
She’d spent years believing she owed everyone something. Leon. His family. Her own parents. Peace. Compliance. Silence.
Her thumb hovered… then tapped.
Block.
The screen went still.
She felt both lighter and more terrified at the same time.
Almost immediately, another notification appeared — this time from her mother.
Her throat tightened.
Adam saw her expression change. “Your mum?”
She nodded.
“I already know what she thinks; she always sides with Leon and his family. I don't need to read her message. She thinks I’ve disappeared,” Lily said quietly. “She thinks I’m being dramatic. That I’ll come back once I calm down, that I will behave like a good little girl."
“And what do you think?” Adam asked, his voice so calm, and the way his eyes twinkled with such concern and care made Lily look away.
Lily looked around the villa — the glass walls opening out to the darkening ocean, the soft lights beginning to glow as evening settled in. This place didn’t feel like an escape anymore.
It felt like a beginning.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that if I go back now… I will never be free to be myself, and I will never be truly happy.”
Adam didn’t argue.
He stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel his presence — solid, grounding.
“Then you don’t go back,” he said. “Not tonight. Not ever. You have me. I will always be there for you, Lily. No matter what."
She swallowed hard.
“I’m scared he’ll show up,” she admitted. “That he’ll just… appear. Like he always did. I mean, this is nothing compared to what he could do. He knows I am here."
Adam’s gaze flicked briefly toward the windows, the shadows stretching longer outside.
“He won't get near you,” he said. “And even if he did, he won’t get past me,” Adam finished. “This place has security. Cameras. Staff. And me. I don't care how powerful he thinks he is."
She let out a shaky laugh. “You make it sound like a fortress.”
“It kind of is,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “And you’re allowed to feel safe here.”
Another silence settled.
Adam glanced toward the hallway. “Do you want me to turn some lights on? You always hated the house being too dark.”
Her head snapped up. “You really remember that, too?”
He shrugged lightly. “You used to leave lamps on even during movie nights. Said darkness made your thoughts louder.”
Her chest ached.
“I didn’t even realise I still do that,” she murmured, a little embarrassed.
“I did,” he said. "I notice everything."
He moved through the living room, switching on a few lamps, warm light filling the space and chasing away the long shadows pooling near the walls.
Lily’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately.
She noticed.
So did Adam.
“See?” he said gently.
She gave a small, grateful smile.
Her phone vibrated once more on the counter — this time, a voicemail notification.
She didn’t listen to it.
Not yet.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling softly against the glass.
Lily walked toward the window, peering out into the night. The villa grounds stretched wide and dark beyond the lights, trees swaying slowly.
For a moment, she could see nothing but her own faint reflection in the glass — small, uncertain, more fragile than she wanted to be.
But then Adam’s reflection appeared behind hers, tall and steady, a warm presence that somehow softened the edges of her fear.
“You’re shivering,” he said quietly.
She hadn’t noticed. But she was.
Adam stepped closer, just close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. Not touching — waiting, like he always did, letting her choose the distance.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be,” he murmured.
Lily’s breath hitched. Something old and buried stirred in her chest — a memory she hadn’t let herself think of in years.
Back at uni.
Before Leon.
Before everything changed.
She remembered sitting in the library, head in her hands, panicking about an exam she didn’t think she could pass. Everyone else had brushed her off, told her to “calm down” or “stop being dramatic.”
Except Adam.
He’d sat beside her, nudged a chocolate bar across the table, and said with absolute certainty:
“You’re the smartest person here. You don’t realise it yet.”
She had laughed that day — bright, real, unrestrained. Adam had grinned like he’d won a prize.
And for the first time in her life, she’d felt… enough.
That same warmth flickered now.
“You always did that,” she whispered, still staring out the window. “Back then.”
“Did what?” His voice was closer now.
“Made me feel like I wasn’t… stupid. Or weak. Or too much.”
He exhaled softly, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh of disbelief.
“You were never any of those things.”
She felt her throat tighten. “Leon said—”
“Forget what he said,” Adam cut in gently. “He taught you to doubt yourself so he could feel bigger. That wasn’t love, Lily.”
Her eyes stung.
She didn’t want to cry.
Not again.
“Adam…” she whispered, her voice breaking before she could stop it.
He finally reached out — but slowly, giving her room to pull away. His fingertips brushed her forearm first, light as a question. When she didn’t flinch, he shifted closer, his hand settling fully over hers.
That simple touch sent warmth spreading through her whole chest.
“Hey,” he murmured, “look at me?”
It took her a moment, but she turned.
And when she did, the look on Adam’s face stole her breath.
Concern. Admiration. Something deeper she didn’t dare name.
“You’re safe,” he said again, softer this time. “And you’re not alone anymore.”
Her lashes fluttered.
The space between them felt charged.
A step closer.
A breath closer.
If she leaned in—
If he did—
Something would change.
She felt the pull, warm and terrifying, like the start of a storm she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
Adam’s hand slid up her arm, resting gently on her shoulder. His thumb brushed her collarbone without him seeming to realise.
“Lily…” he whispered.
Her heart thudded.
“ I-I think I will head to bed now." Lily suddenly said, turning to walk away.
- Writer
