<< ASHER POV>>
I didn't sleep much.
Not because the bed was unfamiliar it wasn't but because my body couldn't seem to decide whether it was safe to relax. Every sound carried weight. The house settled and creaked the way all houses did at night, but each noise pulled me halfway awake again, my mind already reaching for explanations it didn't need.
At some point, I heard footsteps.
They stopped outside my door.
I held my breath, staring at the dark ceiling, counting the seconds between my heartbeats. The handle didn't turn. No knock followed. After a while, the footsteps moved away.
Only then did I sleep.
When I woke, light filtered through the curtains in thin, pale lines. Morning felt tentative, like it wasn't sure it was welcome yet. I lay there longer than necessary, listening.
The house was awake.
Water ran somewhere down the hall. A cupboard opened and closed. The faint clink of ceramic against stone.
Ziven.
I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, already tangled from sleep. For a moment, I considered staying in my room until he left for work or wherever his life took him now. It would be easier. Safer.
But avoidance had never made anything better between us.
I got dressed quietly and stepped into the hallway.
The kitchen smelled like coffee. Fresh this time. I paused at the doorway, watching without being seen.
Ziven stood at the counter, sleeves rolled just enough to bare his forearms. He moved with the same efficiency I remembered measured, unhurried, like nothing could rush him unless he allowed it. The mug he used was the same one from last night.
He didn't look tired.
He never did.
I cleared my throat softly.
He turned immediately, like he'd been waiting for it.
"Morning," I said.
"Asher." Just my name again. Neutral. Even.
He stepped aside slightly, making space at the counter without looking at me. The gesture was practical. Considerate. Carefully impersonal.
"There's coffee," he said. "If you want."
"Thanks."
I took the mug he offered, our fingers narrowly missing each other. The space between us felt intentional, like a habit he'd never stopped practicing.
We stood there in silence, the kind that wasn't awkward enough to demand fixing. Ziven leaned back against the counter, arms crossed loosely, gaze directed somewhere over my shoulder instead of at me.
I noticed things I hadn't let myself notice last night.
How he angled his body away, even when it made no sense. How he chose positions that kept furniture between us. How he never fully turned his back, but never fully faced me either.
Distance, I realized, wasn't absence.
It was structure.
"You'll be staying long?" he asked.
I hesitated. "I'm not sure. A few weeks, maybe. Until I sort things out."
Another pause. Short. Controlled.
"That's fine."
Not I'm glad. Not stay as long as you need. Just acknowledgment.
I nodded, sipping the coffee. It was strong. Bitter. Exactly how he liked it.
"I'll be out most days," he continued. "Work runs late."
Of course it did.
"I won't get in your way," I said quickly, then immediately wished I hadn't. The words came out defensive, like I was already apologizing for existing.
His gaze flicked to me then. Just for a second.
"You don't," he said.
The way he said it made my chest ache. Not harsh. Not kind. Simply factual.
After breakfast, he left first.
I watched from the doorway as he slipped on his coat, movements smooth, practiced. He didn't check his reflection in the mirror. Didn't hesitate at the door.
"Lock up when you go out," he said, already halfway through the threshold.
"I will."
He nodded once and was gone.
The house felt larger without him.
I spent the morning unpacking slowly, giving myself excuses to stay occupied. Each item I placed felt like a small declaration that I was here now, whether the space wanted me or not.
By afternoon, the silence pressed in.
I took my phone out more than once, thumb hovering over contacts I didn't use. Eventually, I texted Marcus.
I'm back in town. You free later?
The reply came almost immediately.
Yeah. Where are you staying?
I stared at the screen before answering.
At my stepbrother's place.
There was a pause this time.
Ah, Marcus replied. That guy. Sure, come by if you want. Or I can come over.
The thought of bringing someone else into this house made my stomach twist.
I'll come to you, I typed.
We met at a café near campus, one I used to pass without ever going inside. Marcus waved when he saw me, his smile easy, familiar in a way that didn't require effort.
"You look thinner," he said, not unkindly.
"Thanks," I muttered, but I smiled too.
Talking to Marcus felt… normal. He filled the space easily, asked questions without prying, listened without weighing every word. I found myself relaxing without noticing when it happened.
When I laughed, it surprised me.
I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd done that.
By the time I got home, the sun had already dipped low, shadows stretching across the street. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, my mood lighter than it had been all day.
Ziven was there.
He stood in the living room, jacket draped over the back of a chair, phone in his hand. He looked up when I entered, his expression unreadable as ever.
"You're back late," he said.
"I met a friend."
Something shifted. Subtle. His jaw tightened for half a second before smoothing out.
"I didn't know you had plans," he said.
"I didn't either," I replied honestly.
Another pause.
He stepped aside, letting me pass. As I moved past him, I felt his attention follow me not like a gaze, but like pressure. Like he was tracking something he didn't want to touch.
"Next time," he said quietly, "let me know."
I stopped.
"Why?"
The question hung between us.
Ziven exhaled slowly, like he was choosing his words with care.
"This isn't… a place where people come and go freely," he said.
I turned to face him. "It's my home too. Isn't it?"
For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he said, "That's exactly the problem."
Silence followed.
He looked away first.
Later, in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door, replaying the exchange in my head. Every word. Every pause.
Distance, I understood now, wasn't something Ziven used to keep me out.
It was something he used to keep himself in control.
And whatever he was afraid of crossing
I was standing closer to it than I ever had before.