Chapter Seven: Questions Unasked
908 Words
The house felt too small.
Ayla noticed it the moment she stepped inside that morning. The walls hadn’t changed, the rooms were just as open, the same warmth filled the air—but something about it felt… tighter.
Like there wasn’t enough space to breathe.
Or maybe it was just him.
Lucan stood near the table, speaking quietly with her father. His posture was relaxed, controlled—but there was something off about it. A tension beneath the surface that only someone paying close attention would notice.
Ayla tried not to be that person.
She moved past them quickly, keeping her eyes down. If she didn’t look at him, maybe the bond wouldn’t react.
It did anyway.
A sharp pull tightened in her chest, subtle but insistent, like a reminder she couldn’t ignore.
She clenched her jaw and kept walking.
“Good morning,” Nyla’s voice came from behind her.
Ayla turned, forcing a small smile. “Morning.”
Nyla studied her for a second too long.
“You didn’t sleep much,” she said.
Ayla shrugged. “Jet lag from… coming home,” she muttered, clearly not convincing.
Nyla didn’t smile this time.
Instead, she stepped closer.
“What’s going on with you?”
Ayla froze slightly. “Nothing.”
“Ayla.”
The way she said her name—soft, but firm—made something twist in her chest.
“I said I’m fine,” Ayla replied, a little too quickly.
Nyla’s eyes narrowed just slightly. Not angry.
Suspicious.
Concerned.
“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” she said. “You barely ate last night. And—” she hesitated, glancing briefly toward Lucan before looking back at Ayla “—you’re acting weird around him.”
Ayla’s stomach dropped.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Nyla cut in gently. “And he is too.”
That hit harder than anything else.
Ayla opened her mouth, then closed it again.
What could she even say?
Oh yeah, by the way, your mate is also mine?
Her chest tightened.
“I just don’t know him,” she said finally. “It’s… awkward.”
Nyla held her gaze.
Searching.
For something deeper.
Something real.
Before she could press further—
A small voice cut through the tension.
“Mom!”
Both of them turned.
A little boy came running through the doorway, his small footsteps quick and uneven, laughter trailing behind him. He couldn’t have been older than four, his curls bouncing as he rushed forward without hesitation.
“Hey, baby,” Nyla said instantly, her whole expression softening as she knelt down, opening her arms.
He ran straight into them.
“I missed you!” he said, clinging to her.
“I missed you too,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his head.
Ayla stood still.
Watching.
Something in her chest cracked quietly.
Lucan stepped forward then, his entire presence shifting in a way Ayla hadn’t seen before. Softer. Warmer. Real.
He crouched slightly as the boy turned toward him.
“Dad!” the child said, grinning.
Lucan’s expression softened completely as he pulled him into a hug. “Hey, little man.”
Ayla’s breath caught.
Dad.
The word echoed in her mind, heavy and grounding.
This wasn’t just a bond.
This was a life.
A real one.
Built.
Lived.
Loved.
And she didn’t belong in it.
The bond pulsed again—stronger this time, reacting to the closeness, to the emotion, to everything happening right in front of her.
It felt wrong.
So wrong.
Ayla took a small step back.
Then another.
She needed distance.
But Nyla noticed.
Her eyes flicked up from her child, landing on Ayla again.
Watching.
Thinking.
Connecting things.
“Ayla,” she said slowly.
Ayla stopped.
“Yeah?”
Nyla stood now, her child still holding onto her hand. Her gaze shifted briefly to Lucan—who had gone still again—then back to Ayla.
“Look at me.”
Ayla’s heart started racing.
She didn’t want to.
But she did.
Nyla held her gaze, something deeper settling into her expression now. Not just curiosity.
Something closer to realization.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Ayla’s throat went dry.
Lucan didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
But she could feel his attention locked onto her just as strongly as Nyla’s.
Waiting.
Ayla forced a breath in.
Then out.
“…No,” she said.
The lie tasted bitter.
Nyla didn’t respond right away.
She just stared at her.
Long enough to make it clear—
She didn’t believe her.
At all.
⸻
The rest of the day felt off.
Too many glances.
Too many silences.
Too many moments where Ayla caught Nyla watching her… or Lucan.
And thinking.
Putting pieces together.
Ayla stayed distant. Quiet. Careful.
But the bond didn’t care.
It kept pulling.
Kept tightening.
And every time Lucan got too close—
Her body reacted before she could stop it.
A breath hitch.
A slight step back.
A look she couldn’t control.
And Nyla saw all of it.
⸻
That night, Ayla stood by the window, staring out into the dark forest.
Her reflection looked back at her—tired, conflicted, overwhelmed.
“This is falling apart,” she whispered.
Behind her, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Like the calm before something broke.
And deep down—
She knew.
Nyla was getting closer to the truth.
- Writer
