CHAPTER 118: 118

""Does it hurt that much?"

His voice was so soft... too soft... as though he was afraid the question itself might break me.

I opened my mouth to answer but the words never formed.

Because at that exact moment, Nyxella crawled closer on the bed and pressed her tiny palm against my cheek. Her warm hand brushed away one of the tears I hadn’t even realized had escaped.

"Sowri," she whispered in her baby-soft voice, waving her small hands in apology as though she thought she’d caused my pain.

My chest tightened painfully.

"Oh, sweetheart..." I breathed, but she was already turning toward Nix, with her little bouncing curls as her lower lip pushed into a stubborn pout.

"Mama sowri," she said again, this time complaining to him telling him, as though he were responsible for fixing it.

A small, unwilling smile tugged at Nix’s lips.

He looked at her the way only a man who had loved her long before knowing the truth would look full of wonder, tenderness, and a heartbreak he was trying to hide.

"Mama will be okay, my darling," he murmured, touching a gentle finger to her cheek.

Nyxella giggled at the tickle.

He moved a stray curl away from her eyes, his touch reverent.

"Your mama is strong... so strong."

The words were soft.

But then his gaze shifted past her straight into me as his eyes darkened.

And the softness... collapsed.

A thin blade of hurt slid through his tone as he added, quieter, almost to the child in his lap

"She doesn’t need me anymore."

My breath caught.

Nyxella watched him curiously, unaware of the ache bleeding through the silence.

Nix continued softly stroking her curls, but his next words were directed at me sharp in their gentleness

"She’s already so strong she doesn’t need my help at all, isn’t she?"

He lifted Nyxella and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before looking at me again.

"After all... she has you, little one."

The unspoken words hit harder than any shouted accusation.

She chose being alone over me.

She ran away.

She hid our daughter.

She didn’t let me in.

And my stomach sank trying to process it all.

Nyxella leaned into his chest, smiling brightly, completely unaware that her innocent affection was tearing open wounds neither of us had healed.

And Nix held her like she was the only warmth he had left.

But his eyes

His eyes never left mine.

And in them I saw everything including the pain he was trying but also failing to mask behind the quiet smile he wore for our daughter.

He wasn’t just holding Nyxella.

He was holding the last piece of me he still trusted.

I felt the emotions I had bottled up for days clawing their way up my throat. I wanted to shout to tell him how much I still needed him... how every piece of me was splintering without him being the only thing strong enough to hold me together.

My knees felt loose, but I rose anyway, instinct already pulling me toward him, toward the warmth I’d been starving for. I opened my mouth just a whisper away from confessing everything when something flickered at the edge of my vision.

My brows knitted as I turned toward it, and there wedged almost perfectly into the shadowed corner of the room was the tiniest blinking red dot.

A camera.

Almost invisible...

The realization struck like a slap, burning the hope right out of me.

I swallowed the hurt, blinked back my tears so hard my eyelids quivered, and steadied my breath before turning to Nix.

"Please... can you take your leave."

My voice didn’t shake. Not even once. It was frighteningly calm.

He didn’t react. Not with annoyance, not with confusion.. nothing. Just a small nod. As if he understood more than I wanted him to. As if he saw the camera too... or worse, saw me breaking and chose silence.

He bent slightly, giving Nyxella a small smile a soft, fleeting one that didn’t even reach his eyes then turned and walked out.

No emotion on his face.

And I made sure none crossed mine either.

Because if the camera was recording, then he was watching.

And my father didn’t need any more ammunition.

When the door shut, I exhaled slowly too slowly.

Nyxella stared at me with wide, confused eyes, her tiny fingers gripping her stuffed toy as if she sensed the storm collapsing inside me.

"I know, baby..." I whispered, but there wasn’t time not for explanation, not for emotion, not for the luxury of breaking down.

I pulled open the drawer beside the bed, fingers trembling only a little as I grabbed the pain relief tablets. I arranged her feeding bottles on the desk, lining them neatly even though my thoughts were anything but neat. The studio apartment felt smaller than ever.. tight walls, stale air, and tension stitched into every corner.

Ever since we arrived in Australia, Father had insisted we remain here in the studio.

"Temporary," he said.

"Just until the apartment is ready," he said.

But days were beginning to stretch into weeks, and the studio felt less like a temporary space and more like... surveillance.

Today, he claimed, everything would be sorted.

Today, we’d finally move.

Today, things were supposed to change.

But standing here withmy hand aching, my chest hollow, my daughter watching me like she could sense my breaking point I doubted even you could understand the life I was balancing on a thread.

And the thread was beginning to fray.

I picked Nyxella up one more time, slipping my hand beneath her little arms as I tried to settle her into the baby carrier. My fingers were still sore, but I managed.

Just as I reached to buckle her in, Lara burst into the roo again her breath uneven, and her face tight with worry.

"What happened?" I raised an eyebrow, my voice sharper than intended.

She said nothing just extended a folded letter toward me with trembling fingers.

A cold weight sank in my chest.

I snatched it from her hand and tore it open. The moment my eyes skimmed the words, a frustrated, humorless sigh escaped me.

Of course.

Of course it would be today.

The apartment Dad had so proudly told us about... the one he’d insisted was "perfectly safe" and "fully secured"... had collapsed. Completely. Concrete and steel reduced to dust and danger.

If we had already moved in if I had been inside with Nyxella

I swallowed hard as the thought settled in

We would have been buried alive.

I stared around the studio again, taking in its cramped walls. A single bed. A tiny wardrobe. A desk that doubled as a dining table. The air barely moved inside this place.

This room wasn’t big enough for me and Nyxella how much more with Lara sleeping on the floor every night?

No. We couldn’t keep living like this.

"Do this," I said, gathering my thoughts quickly. "Inform everyone that something came up. Today’s class is over. Once they leave, we’ll book a hotel room until we’re able to get a proper apartment."

Lara nodded swiftly and hurried back toward the studio.

I exhaled and bent to lift the baby carrier again but suddenly the room tilted.

Not a gentle sway.

A violent shift like the entire room split into two versions of itself.

My vision doubled. Nyxella’s little face blurred into two overlapping images. My knees weakened instantly, and a hot rush shot through my skull.

I sank onto the bed.. no I collapsed leaning back until my head hit the headboard. The wood felt cold against my scalp, but the rest of me was burning. It felt like waves of dizziness were washing over my body, each one heavier than the last.

My breath shortened.

My chest tightened.

I pressed both palms flat against my thighs, trying to ground myself.

In... one breath.

Out... slow.

Again... slowly.

My heart drummed in my ears, loud enough to drown out the world. The room kept spinning and walls bending, colors dulling, sound muffled beneath the pounding inside my skull.

I shut my eyes, squeezing them until tiny flashes of white light sparked behind my eyelids.

Moments or minutes, I couldn’t tell passed before I felt a small weight crawl onto me.

Nyxella.

Her tiny hands pressed against my stomach as she rested her head there, as if she could shield me from the dizziness with her little body.

I took another breath. Then one more. Slowly, the rush of heat in my head faded, replaced by a heavy, dragging exhaustion.

Just a moment... just a little rest...

I must have whispered it maybe only in my mind because the darkness that pulled me under came too easily.

When I finally opened my eyes again, everything was... black.

Not the spinning blur from earlier.

Not the dizzy haze.

Actual darkness.

The entire room was pitch black, shadows swallowing everything. The air felt cooler, the blanket over my body soft and tucked in neatly.

Blanket.

My mind snapped awake fully.

I remembered leaning on the headboard... but now I was lying flat, comfortably positioned on the bed, my legs stretched out, my body covered as if someone had carefully and gently laid me down.

And the strangest part?

I hadn’t felt a thing.

Not the touch.

Not the movement.

Not even the shift from sitting to lying.

Someone had tended to me... while I slept like a stone.

And that realization sent a quiet shiver through my chest

"If it was an assassin, then you’d be dead."

I exhaled shakily, pushing myself to my feet. My legs still felt like they were made of damp paper, but I steadied myself against the edge of the bed.

Nyxella wasn’t in sight.

Good. That meant Lara had her.

I brushed a hand over my face, forcing myself to focus. I needed to step out, find them, make sure everything wa..

A soft drip... drip... drip reached my ears.

Water.

My head turned slowly toward the bathroom.

That wasn’t the confusing part.

The confusing part was the faint, warm flicker of orange light dancing under the door.

Candlelight.

"Lara?" I called, taking cautious steps forward.

Silence answered.

A sudden spike of panic lanced through my chest.

Nyxella.

What if she had wandered in? What if..

I didn’t let the thought finish.

My steps quickened into a stumbling rush, and I shoved the bathroom door open.

The sight that hit me made me freeze in place

Every breath in my lungs vanished.

The tiny bathroom was bathed in a gold, wavering glow from a single candle set on the counter.

Steam curled lazily through the air, thick and warm, making the light ripple like liquid.

And in the center of that fog...

A man stood with his back to me.

Water slid down the broad line of his shoulders, trailing over firm muscles that tensed and relaxed with the slow movement of his breathing. His wet hair dripped steadily, dark strands clinging to the strong curve of his neck. His torso was a detailed map of scars and tattoo old ones white and faded, newer ones barely healed each one telling stories I once knew by heart.

His skin glowed under the candlelight, golden and damp, the water outlining every sculpted line of his back.

I knew that back.

I knew that body.

My heart slammed so hard it hurt.

"Nix...?"

He paused.

His head tilted slightly, just enough for me to see the sharp line of his jaw, droplets tracing the edges before falling.

My breath came out in a shaky stutter.

There he was.

Bare skin, with wet hair, candlelight, steam all of it wrapping around him like some sinfully unfair painting.

He arched one brow, his expression unreadable.

But his eyes...

Those eyes roamed over me as if taking in the fact that I was awake, standing, and still staring like someone who’d forgotten how to exist.

For a long moment neither of us said anything.

Just silence.

Steam.

Candlelight.

Heartbeats.

Then, very calmly, he asked

"...so... are you going to keep staring, or should I pretend you haven’t just walked in on me naked for no reason?"