Forbidden Embrace

HIM

Daphne after  the fight with Rybak and Rafael:

It had been days since I last saw them, and yet, no matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts away, my heart ached with a dull, familiar throb. I knew I shouldn't dwell on it, shouldn't let the memories carve deeper wounds.

Still, every fleeting moment reminded me of the weight I carried—of them, of the accusations they hurled to ease their own pain,  everything I held dear shattered in an instant—the moment they turned on me to escape their own suffering.

It felt like déjà vu, a cruel twist of fate. I knew I shouldn’t blame myself for the chaos surrounding me, but the weight of regret was a familiar burden.I never imagined my life would unfold like this. They blamed me for it all, and suddenly, I was the villain in their story, left standing in the ruins of my own.

I’ve been alone for so long, ever since I started my career. I should be used to this, right? The solitude, the constant rebuilding of shattered pieces. And yet, there's a part of me that still longs for... something more.

Someone to share the burden, though the last time I tried, I was left feeling like a fool, abandoned by someone I thought cared. I swore I wouldn't make the same mistake again, but here I am, with Noah, wondering if I’m setting myself up for the same fall. I know deep down that I’m not responsible for the chaos swirling around me, but why does it feel like my fault?

Noah’s voice broke through the fog of my thoughts, his breath warm against my ear. "What are you thinking about so deeply?" he whispered, lying beside me. I shifted, turning to meet his gaze, my eyes heavy with unshed tears. His eyes searched mine, filled with a mix of concern and affection. His words were soft, almost tentative, as though he could sense the storm raging inside my mind.

My voice felt fragile, almost like a confession. "Why do you want to be with me?" I asked him, my voice trembling. “You’re not  in my thoughts, but I don’t feel anything with you right now. Am I really a monster? I’m hurting you, and I hate that. You deserve so much more for your patience and tolerance. But then again, you’re stubborn. I admire that about you. Yet,  I don’t feel… I don’t feel anything with you. So, why stay? Am I just too pathetic?"

My voice cracked under the weight of the question, and as the words escaped, a fresh wave of emotion washed over me. My chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath for too long. I was afraid of his answer, afraid of the truth that might finally unravel the last thread of hope I had left.

But Noah just lay there, staring at me, his hand resting on my waist, the silence between us growing heavy. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, even though he had every reason to. "You deserve better," I whispered, trying to convince myself more than him. "You deserve someone who’s whole, who won’t break you like I’m breaking."

Tears welled up in my eyes, cascading down my cheeks. Noah tightened his embrace, burying his face in the softness of my chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from me, and it sent his heart racing. Words escaped him; he could only hold me tighter, wishing to shield me from the turmoil within. Memories of our shared laughter and quiet moments danced in his mind, fueling his desire to comfort me. I didn’t deserve this—his warmth, his comfort.

And yet, he gave it anyway, holding me as though I might slip through his fingers if he let go. His breath was hot and steady against my skin, and the way his body pressed into mine made me feel grounded, anchored to something other than my own spiralling thoughts. I could hear his heartbeat, fast, in time with mine, and I hated how safe I felt in that moment. I didn’t deserve it.

But Noah said nothing. His silence, the way he held me, was more comforting than any words he could’ve offered. I could tell he didn’t know how to fix this, but he was here, refusing to let go, even when I couldn’t explain why I was falling apart.

Morning light spilled through the windows, and I could hear the soft clatter of Noah making lunch downstairs. The quiet sounds were a welcome distraction, but they couldn’t chase away the ache that had settled in my chest. My thoughts drifted back to the email from Everleaf last night. It had been cold, blunt—just the facts, nothing more. Still, the words had hit me like a sledgehammer, and I hadn’t slept since.

The reality of it all gnawed at me, hollowing me out from the inside. The night had felt eternal, as if time itself had conspired to keep me trapped in despair. I longed for an escape, wishing it was all just a dream, yet reality clawed at my insides.

I sat up, the room spinning slightly as I tried to pull myself together. My body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the burden of everything I couldn’t control. I didn’t know how to face the upcoming days, how to keep pretending like everything wasn’t falling apart.

I dragged myself downstairs, following the scent of food that had begun to drift through the air. Noah stood in the kitchen, moving with a quiet grace as he prepared lunch. He didn’t say anything when I walked in, just gave me a small, reassuring smile. His way of letting me know he was here, without pushing me to talk, grateful for him. Lunch is ready,” he called, his voice cutting through my reverie.

As we sat together, I felt a flicker of warmth amidst the shadows, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there were glimmers of light worth holding onto.

I sat down across from him, my hands resting in my lap, and stared at the plate in front of me. The food looked delicious, the kind of meal he knew I loved—comforting, familiar—but I could barely taste it. My mind was miles away, drowning in the what-ifs and regrets that never seemed to leave me alone. Noah's presence, though steady and calming, only made me feel more isolated in my own thoughts.

I lifted the fork to my mouth, but the food tasted like nothing—just texture, bland and disconnected from reality. It was as though I wasn’t really there, just an observer in my own body, watching myself do the things I was supposed to do. Chew, swallow, breathe—repeat. Everything felt mechanical, hollow, like I was going through the motions of living without actually feeling any of it.

Noah was quiet, his eyes flicking up to meet mine every few moments, like he was waiting for something—waiting for me to say something, to let him in. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him what he needed, not when I felt this empty. I placed the fork down, my appetite already gone, replaced by the familiar knot of anxiety that had taken residence in my stomach.

“You’re not eating,” Noah finally said, his voice low, cautious. He wasn’t pushing me, but there was a gentle concern in his tone, the kind that made me want to scream or cry. I hated that he cared, that he could see me unraveling, and that I had no way to stop it.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied, my voice flat, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, the silence between us growing thicker, heavier with unspoken words. I could feel him watching me, feel the weight of his gaze on my skin. But I kept my eyes on the table, tracing the patterns in the wood, trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest, the burning sensation behind my eyes.

He didn’t push further, just quietly took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. His warmth seeped into me, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the cold that had settled in my bones. Nothing was..