“You should be careful while walking. Look at this,” Alax said to Elara, concern in his voice, as he sat on the floor, gently holding her foot. Ronan stood by the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand, clearly not pleased to see Alax there.

Alax glanced at Ronan through Elara’s shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he said.

Ronan just nodded.

Then Alax fell silent and took both of Elara’s hands in his. “Elara,” he said softly, looking up at her. Elara, still gazing at him, her eyes full of love, remained quiet.

“I have to go out of the city with my father for a few days,” Alax said.

“Okay,” Elara replied calmly. “Good luck — maybe you’ll impress him this time,” she added with a smile.

Alax’s father often scolded him, saying he wasn’t good enough, comparing him to other children who were “better.” But Alax always tried his hardest to make his father proud, never letting a single chance slip by. Elara knew how much this meant to him, and that’s why she smiled and wished him well.

Alax looked at Ronan, who was still standing by the kitchen counter. “Ronan, I know you’re not that close to Elara, but she doesn’t really know anyone else besides me. I can’t trust anyone else… so can you look after her while I’m away?”

“Hey, I don’t need him. I can manage by myself,” Elara said immediately.

“Sure… I will,” Ronan replied, his voice calm but his eyes betraying a hint of something more.

With that, Alax headed for the door, but then he returned, hugging Elara tightly and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Take care,” he whispered.

Ronan burned with jealousy, but there was nothing he could do. Elara, of course, felt a pang of sadness — he hadn’t even stayed ten minutes with her. Yet, there was something else in her mind, something unsaid reflected in her eyes.

“So, you can leave… no need to stay here,” Elara said, dialing her new friend Mira.

Ronan came up behind her as she leaned back on the sofa, her phone pressed to her ear. He gently took the phone from her hand. “Why… why can’t I stay here?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

Elara turned her head toward him, noticing him leaning close. “I didn’t give you the right to — “ she began.

Ronan pressed a finger to her lips, just as she had done to him before. “I’m not asking for any other right,” he said softly. “But your condition isn’t good, and I won’t need your permission to take care of you.” With that, he turned to leave the apartment.

“Then where are you going?” Elara asked.

Ronan shot her a smirk over his shoulder and walked out.

“He has mood swings worse than I do during my period… one second rude, the next chill,” Elara mumbled to herself, shaking her head as she called her friend again.

After an hour, the doorbell rang.

Elara was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone. With a sigh, she put it aside and grabbed the crutches resting beside her. The bell rang again — sharper this time.

She hobbled slowly toward the door, her ankle still aching. When she finally opened it, her eyes widened.

Ronan stood there, smiling — with a bag slung over his shoulder.

Her gaze dropped to the bag, then back to him. “What’s with the bag?” she asked.

“Let me in,” he said casually and stepped inside like he already lived there.

“Hey — hey!” Elara shouted after him, but he was already in the living room, sitting comfortably on the sofa, flipping through the TV channels.

Elara followed him, irritation written all over her face. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the bag?” she demanded.

Ronan looked up at her, then took her hand gently. “First,” he said, helping her sit beside him, “stop standing so long. Your ankle’s still hurt.”

“Don’t change the topic,” she snapped. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”

He leaned back, totally relaxed. “I’m here to take care of you.”

“What? You can’t stay here! How can I live with a boy?” Elara said, her voice trembling slightly.

Ronan straightened up and leaned closer to her — close enough that she could feel his breath, though he didn’t touch her. Their eyes locked, the air suddenly heavy between them.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked in a low, deep voice that sent a shiver through her.

Elara’s heart skipped. “Who… who’s afraid? why you always said that,” she stammered, her eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips — lips that looked dangerously close.

“Elara…” he breathed her name, lowering his forehead until it gently touched hers. “You won’t believe this, but… it started a long time ago.”

She blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What started long ago?”

Ronan opened his eyes, suddenly realizing what he was about to confess. He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat. “Forget it,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “Where’s my bed? I’m sleepy.”

Elara just stared at him, half confused, half flustered — wondering what he almost said.

“What bed? I only have one,” Elara said, tying her hair back into a loose bun.

“Wow,” Ronan grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “So… are we sharing it? I don’t mind,” he teased, leaning back with that familiar smirk.

Elara threw a pillow straight at him. “Don’t think nonsense! I meant you’ll have to sleep somewhere else. It’d be better if you just went home.”

Ronan caught the pillow effortlessly, spinning it in his hands. “I’m fine here. I can sleep anywhere,” he said casually.

Elara grabbed her crutches and tried to get up, but before she could, Ronan was already on his feet. He gently took the crutches from her. “I’m here to help, remember? Let me do my job,” he said softly.

“But when you came inside, you left me at the door.”

He smirked and helped her to her room, then stepped back as she closed the door behind her.

Ronan went to the couch, set two cushions under his head, and lay down. The weather was chilly, but he didn’t seem to care. Within minutes, he drifted off to sleep, the dim light of the living room casting soft shadows over his face.

The door to Elara’s room creaked open. She stepped out quietly, wrapped in her shawl, holding a blanket in her hands. Slowly, she made her way to the couch, balancing on her crutches.

Ronan was fast asleep. His expression was calm, peaceful, almost boyish. Elara smiled faintly, her eyes softening.

She spread the blanket over him gently, careful not to wake him. For a moment, she just stood there, looking down at him — remembering everything between them, all the chaos, the confusion, and the unexpected kindness hidden beneath his arrogance.

“Why do I feel a connection with you?” she whispered. “Why can’t I throw you out? Why…..” She stopped in the middle, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead — unaware that her heart had already made its choice.