The first thing she noticed was the quiet.
Not the comforting kind — the heavy kind.
The kind that followed nights where too much had been seen, heard, felt.
Elena blinked awake slowly, sunlight soft against her curtains, her head thick with remnants of worry and something like longing tangled together. She couldn't sleep the whole night.
Memories rushed back in pieces.
Nathan's colleagues.
Their sharp smiles.
Their strange comments.
Kyle's gentle warnings.
Nathan's fingers at her waist on the dance floor.
And—
Her heartbeat stumbled.
His voice through the half-closed door.
> "Everything is under control."
"She's getting along really well."
"Closer than I planned."
"I'll give you the good news soon."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Maybe… maybe she misheard. Or misunderstood.
The gala was loud. Her nerves were high.
It could have been about someone else entirely.
But the unease slid under her skin anyway.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers.
Instead, it offered her silence — the kind that let last night replay again and again until she wasn't sure what bothered her more:
The comments.
The call.
Or the way Nathan had smiled after… as if nothing had happened.
Her phone buzzed beside her pillow.
She exhaled, bracing herself for Nick, or Adrian.
But the name on her screen made her heart jump in a different way.
Nathan.
Another buzz.
> Nathan: Good morning, beautiful.
Nathan: Last night was unforgettable. You were the highlight of my evening.
Her chest tightened.
The words were warm, steady, perfect — exactly the kind of line he always knew how to deliver.
And yet…
They landed differently this morning.
He's making it all seem like nothing!
His colleagues remarks, ridiculing her publicly and his silence most above anything. He made it seem like a funny banter.
How he said they were curious because he never brought a date with him ever. He doesn't mix pleasure with business, she recalled his words.
She scrolled up, staring at the picture he had taken of them last night — her in that champagne silk dress, him impossibly composed beside her. They looked like a couple who belonged in that world.
Except she didn't feel like she did.
She set the phone aside and pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes.
"I shouldn't overthink," she whispered to herself.
But her mind looped Nathan's voice from the phone call again, overlapping with Kyle's words:
> "When Nathan sets his mind on something, he's relentless."
Relentless.
Focused.
Intentional.
Everything she loved about him…
Suddenly felt like something she didn't quite understand.
What am I missing here?
Why does he feels like a puzzle with missing pieces?
Her phone buzzed again.
> Nathan: Are you awake?
Nathan: I miss you already. You were my highlight of last night, gorgeous!
Her stomach warmed at the sweetness — and twisted at the memory of what she'd hear.
She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.
She wasn't going to jump to conclusions. She wasn't going to spiral. She wasn't going to ruin something just because she got scared.
But does it feel scary?
Nathan cared about her.
Nathan chose her.
Nathan told Kyle he was dating her.
He told his best friend about me, that should mean something, doesn't it?
He wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
She repeated it like a mantra until her heartbeat calmed a bit.
A soft knock sounded on her door, making her sit up.
"Elena?" Nick's voice. "Breakfast?"
"Coming!" She replied weakly. She had her energy drained.
She stood, brushing her hair out of her face, catching her reflection in the mirror.
She looked tired.
Conflicted.
She looked at herself—dark circles, damp hair, hands that wouldn't quite stop trembling.
When had she started looking afraid?
Elena didn't reply to Nathan.
She saw all three messages — the "good morning," the "highlight of my night," the "I miss you" —
and she let the blue ticks sit there like tiny confessions she wasn't ready to answer.
Not yet.
Her fingers hovered, tempted to type me too, but something tightened in her stomach.
Should I talk to Dree?
No, I can't put him in stress again.
He already doesn't like Nathan and Nathan had asked her to keep it to her.
Then what do I do?
She slipped her phone into her pocket and headed downstairs.
The familiar clatter of pans and Nick's terrible humming drifted through the hallway.
She smiled despite herself.
Okay… maybe this will help.
She stepped into the kitchen.
Nick stood over the stove, flipping eggs like he was auditioning for a cooking show he would absolutely be rejected from.
His hair was still damp from a shower, sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose around his neck.
He looked over his shoulder the second he sensed her.
"There she is," he said. "Sleeping Beauty wakes."
Elena slid into her usual seat. "More like 'Overthinking Beauty,' but thanks."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Yikes. It's one of those mornings."
"You have no idea."
"Well," he said, plating toast and eggs dramatically, "lucky for you, I am here to serve wisdom, comfort, and possibly salmonella."
She snorted. "Your cooking isn't that bad."
He set the plate in front of her. "No, no. Don't sugarcoat it. The truth shall set me free."
Elena smiled for real this time, the kind that unclenched something in her chest.
Nick sat across from her, digging into his own food like he hadn't eaten in days.
"You look tired," he said casually, eyes flicking up to hers. "Long night?"
Her fork paused halfway.
Elena shrugged. "The Gala was tiring and then sleep refused to come."
He nodded as if he knew exactly what she meant and maybe he did, in his own way.
But he didn't push.
"Hmm," he said instead, "next time we get one of these fancy invites, I'm sending you as my representative. Wear a badge that says 'Nick Hamilton — emotionally unavailable but spiritually present."
She laughed. "You're impossible."
"Debatable," he said. "Now eat. You look like someone wrung your soul out and hung it to dry."
She took a bite.
Warm. Familiar. Safe.
Exactly what she needed.
After a quiet moment, she said, "I barely see you anymore."
Nick froze mid-chew.
"…Uh oh."
Elena crossed her arms. "Seriously. You come home at, like, 2 a.m. and leave before sunrise and sometimes don't even bother to come back... Are you running a mafia ring on the side?"
Nick set his fork down dramatically. "I wish. At least then I could dress better."
"Nick."
He sighed, leaning back. "I know, I know. I've been a ghost."
"So… what's going on?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "These new export contracts? They're monstrous. Dad's expanding to Asian line and everything is landing on me. Meetings, warehouses, distribution issues… it's madness."
"So madness means ignoring your sister?"
He gave her a look. "Madness means saving this company from drowning in artisanal ceramic vases."
She snorted. "Tragic."
"Devastating," he agreed. "Also… I'm heading to Edinburgh in a few days."
Her smile faded. "What? Why?"
"Mom and Dad want me there. Something about restructuring meetings." He waved a hand. "But I think they just want to keep an eye on me before I combust."
Elena nodded slowly.
"And maybe," Nick added softer, "I'll pressure them to come home. Said it's been too long. Might guilt-trip them into a week here."
Her eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Yeah. Thought you'd like that."
She hesitated. She felt nausea kicking in.
Would I?
With everything happening with Nathan…
with the way last night had shaken her…
Did she really want Mom and Dad back right now?
Nick misread her silence as worry.
"Hey," he said gently, nudging her foot under the table. "Don't stress. I'll be back before you even miss me."
She tried to smile. "I always miss you."
His expression softened. Real, warm, brotherly.
"You know I'm always a call away, right?" he said.
She nodded. But she gave up on food.
Her thoughts drifted back to her phone.
To the messages she hadn't answered.
To the words she overheard in that hallway.
Nick kept talking about travel plans and meetings and strategies…
But Elena's mind was replaying one sentence on loop:
> Everything is under control. She's getting along really well.
Nick grabbed his keys, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Alright, Ellie," he said, ruffling her hair the way he always did, "I'll miss you, okay? Take care while I'm gone."
She forced a smile. "I will. Promise."
His footsteps faded down the hall…
Then the door clicked shut.
Silence swallowed the house whole.
Not peaceful silence
but the kind that presses on the ribs, tightening with every breath.
Her mind replayed the Gala, the phone call, the tone in Nathan's voice, the words she hadn't been meant to hear.
What do I do now?
Her phone buzzed sharply.
A message lit up the screen.
> Nathan: Where are you lost?
She stared at it, unable to form a reply.
Left it on read.
Another buzz.
> Nathan: Are you alright?
She was still reading it when the third appeared almost immediately:
> Nathan: Talk to me, sweetheart. What's worrying you?
Problems don't solve themselves when you run from them.
Her throat tightened painfully.
How was she supposed to ask him?
How was she supposed to say I heard you talking about someone… about a plan… about something ending?
She wasn't good at confrontation,
never had been.
And she wasn't ready to hear an answer she couldn't take back.
So she locked the phone with trembling fingers, left all three messages on read… and walked away.
She took the longest shower she could bear, letting the steam burn away the questions clouding her chest. But even there, under hot water, the doubt clung to her skin like perfume.
When she stepped out, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, her chest still tight—
The doorbell rang.
Her heart lurched.
She tugged on a pair of shorts and a tank top, barely registering how exhausted she looked—dark circles, damp lashes, skin pale from too much thinking.
She opened the door.
Nathan stood on the other side.
Still in last night's clothes.
Eyes bloodshot.
Jaw tight.
Like a man who'd been pacing instead of sleeping.
The moment he saw her—her wet hair, her tired eyes, her silence,
he didn't wait.
He stepped forward and pulled her into him, arms wrapping around her with a force that made her breath catch.
"Elena," he whispered, voice breaking in a way she'd never heard.
"What happened, my darling?"
She froze in his embrace, her fingers curling weakly against his shirt.
"I was worried sick," he murmured, tightening his hold.
"I couldn't concentrate on anything since last night. Couldn't sleep. I just… needed to see you. I wanted to be with you."
Her breath trembled violently.
She lifted her gaze. The tears she'd been holding back finally swam to the surface.
Her breath trembled violently.
She lifted her gaze —
and the tears she'd been holding back finally spilled, warm against Nathan's thumbs as he cupped her cheeks.
"Elena… sweetheart… look at me," he whispered.
She tried.
But the questions choking her —
What did I hear?
Was it about me?
What are you hiding? — tangled in her throat until she couldn't breathe right.
"I… I don't…" she stammered, her voice cracking. "Nathan, I—"
The room tilted.
Just a little.
Her fingers loosened on his shirt.
Nathan's eyes widened. "Elena?"
"I'm… fine," she whispered, though her body swayed. "I just— I just need—"
Her knees buckled. Her hands shivered.
The world dimmed.
She felt herself falling—
But strong arms caught her instantly.
"Elenaa!"
Nathan's voice dropped its composure entirely — raw, terrified, unguarded.
Her head fell against his chest, her breath shallow and uneven.
"Stay with me," he murmured urgently, one hand on her back, the other trembling against her cheek. "Sweetheart… please… look at me."
Her eyelids fluttered weakly.
Nothing responded the way she wanted it to.
Nathan lifted her off the ground in one smooth motion, holding her tightly against him.
"Baby—"
his voice cracked, low and desperate,
"—don't do this to me."
Her pulse slipped faint in his arms.
The last thing she felt was the warmth of his heartbeat against her cheek.
The last thing she heard, right before darkness took her, was his voice — unsteady, alarmed in a way she'd never heard:
"Elena… don't leave me like this."