My life

Mine to protect

MICAS POV

I showed her to the bedroom, watching her closely as she stepped inside like she wasn't sure she was allowed to be there. Her eyes moved everywhere at once walls, ceiling, the massive bed in the center of the room as if she were trying to memorize it before it disappeared.

For a split second, she just stood there. Then something in her shifted. She ran forward and threw herself onto the bed, laughing as she stretched out across it.

The sound hit me straight in the chest.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't long. But it was real. Free. Unburdened. For those few seconds, she looked like a girl who had never known fear, never learned how to brace herself for pain.

And then, just as quickly, it vanished.

She shot upright and scrambled off the bed, her gaze dropping to the floor, her shoulders curling inward. Embarrassment rolled off her in waves so strong I could almost taste it. Like she'd crossed some invisible line and was waiting to be punished for it.

That broke something inside me.

"It's ok"I told her gently. I made sure my voice was steady, calm. "I want you to be comfortable."

She looked at me like she didn't quite believe that was true. Like she was storing the words away for later, unsure if they'd still apply tomorrow. After a moment of quiet thought, she said she was tired. That she wanted to sleep.

Of course she was.

She climbed back into the bed, this time more cautiously, curling in on herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible. I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, but even while brushing my teeth, even while changing, my senses stayed locked on her. Listening. Watching. Making sure she was still breathing. Still there.

When I came back out, she wasn't asleep. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was too shallow, too controlled. The kind of fake sleep you learn when rest never feels safe.

I got into the bed slowly, careful not to startle her, and shifted closer. I felt her stiffen immediately every muscle locking, her body preparing for something bad. The reaction was instinctive. Automatic. Learned.

It made my chest ache.

I wrapped my arms around her gently, deliberately keeping my touch light. No pressure. No demand. Just warmth.

She hesitated for only a second before melting into me.

The tension drained out of her body like she'd been holding it for years. She fit against me perfectly, small and fragile and devastatingly precious. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, soft snores escaping her lips.

I held her tighter not enough to trap her, but enough to promise I was still there. I breathed in her scent, letting it ground me. She wasn't just my mate. She was something sacred. Something the world had tried to destroy and failed.

An angel.

And I swore silently that no one would ever take her from me.

---

I woke suddenly to a noise.

At first, I wasn't sure what had pulled me from sleep, but then I noticed the bed beside me was empty. Panic flared sharp and fast in my chest. I sat up, scanning the room, until I heard movement from the bathroom.

Relief followed, but it was uneasy.

She must've needed the restroom, I told myself. Still, I stayed alert, listening closely. I heard clattering,drawers opening, things shifting. I got up and knocked softly on the door, asking if she was okay.

Her response came out rushed and tangled. I caught only a few words. Something about pads.

Understanding dawned, followed by a quiet smile. My sister stayed over often enough that I'd learned to keep the bathroom stocked with anything someone might need. I told her where to look, then stepped back, giving her privacy.

A faint "thank you" reached my ears, barely louder than a whisper.

I returned to bed, but unease lingered. She was taking a while. I heard drawers again. That same hollow feeling from the hospital crept up my spine. The memory of locked doors and silence pressed in hard.

I was on my feet before I realized it.

I knocked again, my voice careful but edged with worry. She answered quickly this time—too quickly. Something dropped. A drawer shut. Then the door opened and she stepped out, avoiding my eyes.

She was okay. Breathing. Standing.

Relief crashed over me so strongly my knees almost buckled. I made a mental note to remove the razor blades tomorrow. Immediately. Permanently.

We climbed back into bed, and this time, she didn't hesitate. She turned and settled into my arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I held her as sleep pulled us both under again, knowing one thing with absolute certainty.

This was where she belonged.
And I would spend every day proving it to her.