ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
I leaned forward in front of the mirror, trying to wipe away the last traces of makeup. My hands trembled slightly, though I couldn't tell if it was exhaustion, nerves, or the thought that Alex was in the same room with me. Sharing a room with him… the words kept looping in my head. Sharing a room. With him.
I splashed some water on my face, blinking rapidly. My reflection looked back at me, tired but tense. I forced myself to steady my hands. Get a hold of yourself, Elena. You're acting like a child.
I picked up my cotton pad and rubbed at the stubborn mascara under my eyes. My mind wandered, as it always did when I thought about Alex. His grey eyes… the sharpness in his stare. That cold wall he built around himself. The way he made everything feel like a battle I wasn't prepared for. And now, apparently, we'd be living under the same roof. For how long? Until after the wedding. That thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably.
I was just thinking about the impossibility of it all when the bathroom door creaked open.
I froze mid-motion, my hand still hovering over the mirror. And then I saw him.
Alex. Standing there. A towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his toned body. His hair plastered to his forehead, droplets glistening along his neck and shoulders. He looked… impossibly real, impossibly dangerous, impossibly beautiful.
I blinked once. Twice. My chest went tight, my jaw slackened, and for a split second, I couldn't breathe. I felt like I had stumbled upon an alien, a vision too perfect to exist in this world.
He didn't notice me at first, too busy drying his hair with another towel. But then his eyes lifted, and they met mine.
"What are you looking at?" His voice was low, but edged with curiosity.
I froze. Heat flooded my face. I wanted to turn away, to escape, to disappear into thin air. I grabbed for the door handle, intending to rush past him back into my room… but my foot caught on the edge of the small stool beside the mirror. I stumbled. My arms flailed.
Before I even realized what was happening, I was falling backward. My eyes closed instinctively, bracing for the pain of hitting the floor.
But I didn't hit the floor.
Instead, I collided with something warm, solid, and wet.
Alex's hands caught me mid-fall, strong and unyielding. His grip was firm but careful, as if he had expected the chaos I brought with me. His chest was still damp, the heat radiating from him making my face burn hotter.
"Stop being so clumsy," he said, his tone unusually soft, almost… worried.
I opened my eyes slowly, my chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. I was looking up at him, straight into his grey eyes. For the first time, the cold barrier I had imagined around him cracked just a little. There was a flicker of concern, something almost human, almost vulnerable. My chestnut brown eyes widened as I realized it.
I wanted to say something, thank him, apologize, scream at myself for being so foolish, but words failed me.
He didn't give me the chance to dwell on it. Alex bent slightly, scooping me up as if I weighed nothing. I felt myself being carried with ease, his strong arms keeping me steady against him. My heart was hammering violently, and I could feel the warmth of his chest, the firm pull of his muscles beneath the towel.
He set me down carefully on the edge of the bed. I stayed still for a moment, not daring to breathe too loudly, as if making a sound would shatter this fragile moment of his care.
Without a second glance, Alex turned and walked toward the wardrobe, disappearing behind its closed doors. I heard the soft click as it shut, and suddenly, I was alone. The quiet of the room pressed against me, but it was no longer comforting, it was deafening.
I stared down at the bed, my hands fidgeting in my lap. My mind replayed what had just happened. His expression. The way he had caught me. The flicker of worry in his eyes. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make me smile softly, almost imperceptibly.
And then I scolded myself. Why do you care? Get a hold of yourself, Elena. He's cold. He's impossible. You can't… You can't start noticing things like that.
I shook my head, trying to clear the images from my mind. Slowly, I stood and walked toward the bathroom. The mirror reflected my flushed cheeks and wide eyes. I splashed my face again with cold water, trying to wash away not just the makeup but the sudden, confusing emotions stirring inside me.
I pulled off my gown, letting it drop softly to the floor, and changed into my pajamas. The bathroom felt impossibly small now, filled with the echo of the water dripping from earlier, my own breaths, and the lingering thought of him. I reminded myself that he was still behind the wardrobe, still in the room, and that I shouldn't disturb him. I didn't want to.
I dried my hair quickly and brushed it, keeping my movements steady, even though my heart refused to calm. Focus, Elena. Just focus on yourself.
Finally, I turned toward the bedroom. The bed looked inviting, warm, and impossibly comforting after the chaos of the day. I slipped under the covers, pulling them close around me as if they could shield me from all the complications of living with him.
I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, replaying the events in my mind. Alex's grey eyes. The tension in his voice. The unspoken concern. It's just a fluke, I told myself. He probably won't do it again. He's still that same cold, distant man.
But a small, stubborn part of me couldn't shake the memory. His hands, holding me steady. The way he didn't scold me for being clumsy until after he had caught me. The way his expression softened for a split second, just long enough for me to see it.
I rolled onto my side, hugging the covers a little tighter, scolding myself for caring. Why do you even notice these things? I whispered to myself. It doesn't matter. It's not going to mean anything. Don't let it mean anything.
The quiet in the room felt absolute now. The wardrobe remained closed, hiding him, preserving the fragile bubble of solitude I had left for myself. I focused on my breathing, telling myself to sleep, to rest, to let the day end.
I felt my eyelids grow heavy. My body relaxed into the mattress, the soft sheets pressing against me, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up. The room smelled faintly of soap and damp fabric, a reminder of him, of that moment that wouldn't leave my mind.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew I would remember the way he had looked at me tonight. The way he had broken his cold exterior just enough to reveal something human, something unexpectedly… real.
But I didn't let myself dwell on it. I forced my thoughts elsewhere. Tomorrow would bring new complications, new rules, new… everything. Tonight, I needed rest. Tonight, I needed to forget what had just happened, or at least tuck it away in a corner of my mind where it couldn't trouble me.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the room lull me into sleep. My chest rose and fell slowly, my mind finally quieting as the day's chaos faded.
Yet, even as I drifted, I couldn't stop the thought from lingering: the image of his grey eyes, the subtle worry he had shown, and the memory of the strength in his hands.
Why does it matter so much? I whispered to the darkness.
And with that question unanswered, I finally let myself sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be easier, calmer, and that the man I was forced to live with would remain the same cold, distant stranger I had been prepared for.