RUN FROM ME

CHAPTER SIX_THE FEELINGS I COULDN'T NAME

CHAPTER SIX — THE FEELING I COULDN’T NAME

ALESSANDRO

I started sleeping less after Sera arrived.

Not because of problems.

Problems were normal.

This felt different.

My mind stayed too aware of her presence in the estate even when I was nowhere near her.

I noticed when she laughed downstairs with Isabella.

I noticed when she skipped breakfast.

I noticed when she stayed awake too late because the light under her bedroom door remained visible from the hallway.

Small things.

Useless things.

And somehow I remembered all of them.

I stood in the kitchen late that night pouring coffee when Isabella walked in.

She stopped the second she saw me.

“You look miserable.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

I ignored her and took another sip instead.

Isabella leaned against the counter watching me carefully.

“You like her.”

The sentence came too casually.

Too directly.

I looked at her slowly.

“No.”

“That was also too fast.”

I exhaled quietly through my nose.

“She’s staying here because it’s safer.”

Isabella rolled her eyes immediately.

“Oh my God, you actually believe that excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It absolutely is.”

I set the cup down harder than intended.

“She was involved the moment she helped me.”

“That’s not why you brought her here.”

My jaw tightened slightly.

“Enough, Isabella.”

But she didn’t stop.

Because unlike everyone else around me, Isabella rarely feared my moods.

“You look at her like you’re trying to understand something,” she said more softly this time.

That irritated me because it was too accurate.

I looked away first.

Outside the kitchen windows, the estate lights glowed softly against the darkness. Quiet. Controlled. Safe.

At least physically.

Emotionally was becoming something else entirely.

“She’s different,” Isabella continued.

I hated that word.

Different meant unpredictable.

Different meant weakness if handled incorrectly.

Still…

I remembered Sera sitting in the library earlier, trying to act calm while holding that book too tightly every time I looked at her.

Nervous.

Soft.

Trying not to show it.

Something unfamiliar settled low in my chest again.

Not obsession.

Not yet.

Something quieter.

Something dangerously close to attachment.

And I did not know what to do with that.

---

Later that night, I passed by the garden balcony and saw her again.

Sera stood near the railing wearing one of the oversized sweaters Isabella forced into her room earlier that day.

The wind moved softly through her hair while she stared out toward the estate lights below.

For a moment, she looked peaceful.

Untouched by the world I lived in.

I stayed there longer than I intended.

Watching quietly.

Then she turned suddenly and froze when she saw me.

I noticed the way her breathing changed slightly.

The way she held herself carefully around me now.

Not relaxed.

Not afraid.

Aware.

“You’re awake late,” she said softly.

“So are you.”

A small silence followed.

Not uncomfortable this time.

Just quiet.

The wind carried the faint scent of rain again.

She looked down toward the gardens before speaking.

“Your house feels lonely at night.”

That sentence caught me off guard more than it should have.

Because she was right.

I looked out toward the dark estate.

“It wasn’t built to feel warm,” I said honestly.

Her eyes shifted back to me slowly.

Then, after hesitating—

“You seem lonely too.”

No one said things like that to me.

Not anymore.

Maybe not ever.

For a second, I forgot how to answer.

And somehow…

that unsettled me more than violence ever could.

I leaned back slightly against the balcony doorway, studying her quietly while the night wrapped around the estate in soft silence. Most people filled silence too quickly around me. They rushed to explain themselves, to impress me, or to avoid saying the wrong thing.

Sera didn’t.

She just stood there holding the sleeves of the sweater over her hands slightly because of the cold.

Small habit.

I had started noticing all of them.

“You shouldn’t stay outside this late,” I said after a while.

A faint smile touched her lips.

“That sounded almost normal.”

“Almost?”

“You make everything sound like an instruction.”

I watched her carefully.

“That bothers you.”

“Yes.”

“But you still listen.”

That made her expression shift slightly.

Not anger.

Something more uncertain.

“I don’t always know how not to around you,” she admitted quietly.

The honesty in that sentence settled somewhere dangerous inside me.

Because I understood exactly what she meant.

People adjusted themselves around me naturally.

Fear did that.

Power did that.

But Sera’s reaction felt different.

More emotional than fearful.

That was the part I could not fully understand yet.

She looked back out toward the gardens again.

“Sometimes I think this place is beautiful,” she murmured softly. “And then I remember I didn’t choose to be here.”

I stayed silent for a moment.

Because there was no good response to that.

She was right.

I had taken away her choice the moment I brought her into my world.

The problem was…

every time I imagined letting her leave, something in me resisted immediately.

Instinctively.

Like the thought itself felt wrong.

“You’re thinking too much again,” I said finally.

A quiet laugh escaped her.

Soft.

Tired.

“You say that every time I start noticing things.”

“What things?”

Her eyes lifted to mine slowly.

“The way everyone around you watches your reactions before they speak.”

Silence.

“The way people are scared of disappointing you.”

Another silence.

Then softer this time—

“The way you notice everything about me.”

My jaw tightened slightly.

She noticed that too.

Of course she did.

Sera noticed emotions the way other people noticed weather.

Carefully.

Constantly.

The wind shifted colder across the balcony.

Without thinking, I stepped closer and pulled the edge of the sweater more securely over her shoulder where it had slipped slightly.

The movement was simple.

Small.

But the second my fingers brushed against her shoulder, she stopped breathing for half a second.

I felt it instantly.

So did she.

Her eyes lifted slowly to mine.

Too close now.

The air between us changed quietly.

Dangerously.

My voice lowered without meaning to.

“You’re cold.”

Her lips parted slightly before she answered.

“A little.”

Neither of us moved away immediately.

And for the first time in years…

I felt something unfamiliar crack softly beneath the control I had spent my entire life building.