LOVE IS A INTERNAL ARGUMENT: An Introverts romance🩰

FUN'S OVER

Morning — Aliana’s POV

Aliana woke slowly, wrapped in warm sheets and the faint memory of Atticus’s lips against her cheek.

Soft. Unrushed.

So gentle she almost convinced herself she imagined it.

Then her phone buzzed.

Atticus Everheart:

Good morning, Aliana.

I hope you slept better than I did.

Another buzz.

Atticus:

Not that I didn’t sleep. I just kept thinking.

(Yes, unfortunately, I think now.)

Mainly about how you might disappear after human interaction, so I made it my personal duty to remind you I still exist.

And then:

Atticus:

Also, I absolutely should NOT be thinking about you at 7 a.m. but here we are.

Another.

Atticus:

And please don’t run away from me today.

I’d like to keep my sanity intact. Thank you. 👍🏽

A sound slipped out of her—

A snort.

She actually snorted into her pillow.

Then laughed. Warm. Quiet. Embarrassingly giddy.

He’s too much, she thought.

Entirely too much.

And still… she was smiling like an i***t.

She showered, trying not to think about the almost-kiss, but every drop of hot water brought back the feeling of his hands, his voice saying her name like it held weight.

She toweled off her hair, slipped into clothes—

And her phone exploded.

Notifications. Mentions. Messages.

Her sisters. Friends. Adriana’s PR assistant.

Arabella:

OH MY GOD GO CHECK i********: RIGHT NOW! Are u okay ali???

Adriana:

Sweetheart, don’t panic.

…But you need to see this.

Her stomach dropped.

She opened the link.

There she was.

In every angle possible.

Walking beside Atticus.

Smiling softly at him.

His hand brushing hers.

Headlines screamed:

> ATTICUS EVERHEART SPOTTED WITH NEW MYSTERY GIRL — THE SHY VALENCOURT HEIRESS?

> BAD BOY EVERHEART CHECKS ANOTHER NAME OFF HIS LIST

> ALAINA VALENCOURT DESPERATE FOR ATTENTION? FROM ADRIANA’S HUSBAND TO HIS BEST FRIEND — SOURCES SAY SHE CHASES MEN LIKE HER SISTER ARABELLA.

Her blood boiled.

“My sister doesn’t even chase men,” she muttered under her breath.

“She’s just friendly. There’s a difference.”

Then she saw the worst one:

> Is Atticus Cheating? The Everheart Family’s Preferred Match Revealed.

Below, an old photo—months old, but the internet didn’t care.

A tall, stunning blonde stood beside Atticus at a charity gala.

Rosalina Laurent.

All ethereal elegance and champagne-confidence.

Like she’d been sculpted by a designer who only worked in gold.

Next to her, Aliana suddenly felt like—

…the “quiet one.”

…the one who blends into the background.

…the one who’s good, but never great.

…the ballerina who was always praised for potential, never perfection.

Comments rolled in like knives:

> “Aliana is cute but Rosalina is NEXT LEVEL.”

“Why would he pick the shy bookworm ballerina over a socialite?”

“Seraphina Laurent is Everheart material. Aliana isn’t. His parents wanted the engagement.”

“Rosalina could calm Atticus down. No more running around with random girls.”

Her fingers tightened around her phone.

She didn’t want to care.

But the ache under her ribs said she did.

Not jealousy.

Just the exhaustion of being compared without asking to participate.

People were too much.

This is why she preferred solitude.

Why anxiety wrapped around her ribs when things got loud, messy, overwhelming.

Her phone buzzed again.

Atticus:

Are you awake?

I’m trying very hard not to imagine you reading these articles.

Please tell me you’re okay.

Her throat tightened.

She wasn’t okay.

And that scared her.

Her hand shook as she reached toward her nightstand—toward the anxiety medication she rarely allowed herself to use.

I hate being this way. I get anxious whether I want to or not…

---

A nap, a shower, and a lot of staring at her ceiling later, she picked up her phone again.

It still hurt.

But she refused to let the world swallow her whole.

She typed:

Aliana:

I’m fine. It’s just social media being social media. Can’t control people.

She tossed her phone onto the bed and stood, pacing—

A chime echoed from the front gate.

She froze.

No.

No way.

Her phone buzzed:

Atticus:

I’m coming over. I’m pulling up.

Her heart launched itself into her throat.

He came.

He actually—

She padded downstairs and opened the door.

Atticus stood there, slightly winded, hair tousled like he’d run stressed fingers through it the entire drive.

His expression softened instantly when he saw her.

“Hi,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“I told you I was fine,” she muttered, arms crossing defensively.

“That was a lie.”

He brushed past her into the foyer like he owned the place.

“You— you can’t just show up like this,” she stammered.

“I absolutely can,” he said.

“Especially when the person I care about is pretending nothing hurt.”

Care about.

Her stomach flipped.

“I said I’m fine.”

“Aliana.”

He said her name with that unbearable softness that made her want to melt and flee all at once.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly—she did.

His eyes were warm, concerned, serious in a way Atticus rarely was.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” he said.

“The things they said about you were disgusting.”

“It’s not just about me,” she murmured.

“Then what is it?”

Silence.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

He stepped closer.

“Is it her?” he asked gently.

Her breath stilled.

“Rosalina,” he said. “The woman in the photo.”

Her fingers curled into her palms.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

“Aliana,” he murmured, “you looked like you got punched in the chest.”

She flinched.

Her mask cracked.

“I didn’t like… reading it,” she admitted, voice trembling.

“About me. About you. About my sister. And that woman.”

His jaw tightened.

“You think I’m involved with her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“She means nothing to me. She always meant nothing.”

“She’s beautiful,” Aliana blurted before she could stop herself.

Atticus went still.

“And?” he said, incredulous.

“Well… apparently according to everyone else—and your parents—she looks like someone who fits next to you.”

Her voice grew small, thin.

“Someone people take seriously. Someone who doesn’t get mistaken for—”

She cut herself off.

“Stop,” he said softly but firmly.

She did.

Atticus lifted her chin with the gentlest touch.

“You are not the ‘cute one.’ Or the ‘quiet one.’ Or lesser in any way.”

His voice dropped to something rough, real.

“You’re the one who walked into my life and made everything else look dull.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

“And,” he added, mouth brushing close to her temple without touching, “I don’t put effort into people I don’t care about. I don’t waste my time.”

She stepped back a fraction—just enough to breathe.

He let her.

“You didn’t have to come,” she whispered.

“I did,” he said simply.

“Because you matter to me. And I’m not letting lies undo the connection we’re building.”

“Atticus…”

“Oh relax,” he teased softly.

“I’m not confessing my undying love.”

She huffed a laugh despite everything.

His expression softened again.

“You can deal with things alone,” he said. “I know that.

But you don’t have to.”

She swallowed.

“You’re… too kind for your own good,” she muttered. “I don’t like it.”

A small grin tugged at his mouth.

“And you’re too strong for yours.”

The air thickened.

Warm.

Charged.

Her phone buzzed with another notification—another headline, probably.

Atticus didn’t even glance at it.

“Whatever they say,” he murmured, “it’s just noise.”

Her lips twitched.

“Okay then… what are we?”

He matched her smile—slow, warm, devastatingly sure.

“Something real,” he said.

“And something I’m not running from.”

Her heartbeat fluttered, traitorous.

“Can I hug you?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

He pulled her in gently—never too tight, always leaving room for her to leave.

She didn’t.

Not for a long moment.

And for the first time in a long time…

She didn’t want to.