Chapter 5: Still
She was the bravest little thing I’ve ever seen. –Elias
She didn’t eat lunch.
Didn’t speak.
Elias watched her walk down the hall like her limbs didn’t belong to her body.
Like every step was borrowed strength.
She went straight to her room, door clicking shut behind her.
He didn’t follow.
Didn’t knock.
He just stood in the kitchen for a while, unsure of what to do with his hands.
Or his thoughts.
He made her a plate anyway.
Simple. Toast. Apples. A boiled egg—without the yolk this time.
He left it on the table beside a glass of soy milk.
Then scribbled a note.
“You did well. I’m proud of you.”
It felt stupid the moment he wrote it.
Too much? Too soft? Too soon?
He placed it carefully next to the plate.
Then stepped back.
Like it might explode.
The house was quiet again.
But not the peaceful kind.
This silence had weight.
Like the air was holding its breath.
He checked his phone.
Did some paperwork.
Started cleaning the already-clean kitchen.
But his ears were tilted toward the hallway the whole time.
Once, he thought he heard something from her room.
Not sobbing.
Not shouting.
Just… breathing. Uneven. Almost broken.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t go near the door.
If she was crying, she needed to.
He thought about earlier—
The way she clutched his shirt like it was the last stable thing in the world.
She didn’t cry then.
Didn’t break.
Though he thought she almost did.
But now…
Now she was safe.
Now the walls wouldn’t bite.
Now the ground wouldn’t shift.
And it was always in the safety, wasn’t it,
when people finally allowed themselves to fall apart?
He heard her door open while he was in the gym.
He didn’t go out to check.
He figured she needed space.
Some time after sunset, when he walked past the table—
The food was gone.
Plate empty.
Milk half-drunk.
Post-it gone.
No note in return.
Nothing.
But the food was eaten.
It was enough.
He passed by her room, expecting silence behind a closed door.
And that’s what he got.
Later that night, he walked past the entryway on his way to bed.
The house was dim and still.
He almost missed it.
The shoes.
The old ones, her battered sneakers, were half-kicked under the bench like always.
Barely holding together.
But next to them, the new pair. Quiet. Undisturbed.
Set side by side.
Not polished. Not displayed.
Just… placed.
Like someone had paused.
Not to admire, not to celebrate.
Just to acknowledge.
He stood there for a moment.
She could’ve thrown them aside.
Could’ve shoved them out of sight like they didn’t exist.
But she hadn’t.
She had taken them off.
And even in her exhaustion, she came back to line them up neatly next to the door.
Not as a trophy.
But as a reminder.
She’d gone out.
She came back.
And she was still here.
He stared at the shoes a second longer.
Then turned off the hall light.
And finally,
Let himself sleep.
Chapter 6: Five Years Later
He’s a very responsible man, but sometimes I wish he’s not. -Liana
Liana
I hadn’t screamed in years.
Not in my sleep, at least.
But tonight, the old fear crept in again, like it had been waiting for me to get comfortable.
I woke up in a room I knew too well.
Elias’s house. My room. My home.
I’ve grown.
I’m not that helpless little girl anymore.
But part of me… part of me is still fifteen. Maybe it always will be.
Still clutching the same blanket like it could stop the world from falling apart.
Just like always, Elias appeared at the door in seconds.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low, concerned, but not panicked.
I nodded, still catching my breath.
He came closer, slower this time, then reached out his hand.
I took it.
It was warm. Solid. Dry. Steady.
The kind of hand that grounded you in reality.
And just like that, I started to calm down.
It suddenly occurred to me. Elias never initiates physical contact.
I don’t know why that thought popped into my head.
But it did.
He sat down on the edge of my bed, not too close.
Then said, “Our little princess is turning twenty tomorrow. That makes you an adult in your country, right?”
I nodded again.
Tomorrow was my birthday.
“Got any plans?” he asked.
I hesitated.
The truth is, I didn’t know.
I’d never had birthday plans.
No one ever celebrated for me.
Birthdays didn’t exist until I started living with Elias.
I looked at him.
And suddenly, it felt like just being with him would be enough.
I didn’t need cake or candles.
Just him.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He tilted his head, thoughtful.
“Well… how about horseback riding?”
I blinked.
He smiled a little.
“I’m off tomorrow. I can take you. I remember you said you liked horses.”
Liked was an understatement.
There was a time when I couldn’t sleep at all.
Therapists helped a little.
Medication helped less.
But equine-assisted therapy?
That saved me.
Something about the calm power of horses made it easier to breathe, easier to exist.
After that, I’d loved horses.
But I stopped going.
It was expensive.
Far away.
And I didn’t want to ask Elias for more than he was already giving me.
I knew I was the responsibility that he didn’t ask for, but he took care of me anyway.
He’s the best person in the world.
So when he said it, he’d take me, I felt something in my chest light up.
A tiny flicker of joy.
I looked at him with eyes that probably sparkled way more than I intended.
“Really?” I asked.
“I want to go.”
He smiled again. “Then we’ll go.”
I nodded.
Tried to act calm.
But inside, I was twelve kinds of excited.
He stood up.
“Get some sleep, birthday girl. We’ve got horses to meet.”
Then he left, gently closing the door behind him.
I laid back down, staring at the ceiling.
He still calls me “princess” sometimes.
And I still don’t know what that does to me.
But I do know this:
I’m turning twenty tomorrow.
And the only person I want to spend that day with…is him.
Chapter 7: Horses -Liana
He’s always been watching me… but I want him to touch me. -Liana
Liana
The air smelled like grass, leather, and sun.
I hadn’t been around horses in years, but the scent was so familiar, it made my shoulders drop.
Like my body remembered how to breathe again.
“This one’s Starling,” Elias said, gently patting the side of a tall chestnut gelding.
“He’s calm. Follows basic commands. You okay with him?”
I nodded.
“Yeah,” I said. “He reminds me of the one I used to work with during therapy.”
Elias gave me a small smile. “Thought so.”
Starling flicked his ears as I stepped closer.
I placed a hand on his neck.
He was warm. Solid. Alive.
My fingers ran through the short hair of his mane like it was muscle memory.
“Still got the touch,” Elias said.
I smiled without meaning to. “Only if he does all the work.”
He chuckled. “That’s the kind of riding I like. Low risk of being thrown off.”
I turned to him. “You’ve ridden before?”
“A few times. But don’t expect anything fancy. I don’t bounce like I used to.”
I knew he was turning thirty.
Sure, he didn’t look like thirty.
He’s ten years older than me.
Luca, one of his teammates, used to joke that I should call Elias “uncle.”
He said it casually, but something about the way he stood, solid, steady, always scanning the area, made me think he could still take down five guys barehanded if he had to.
Then I looked up at the saddle.
It was a lot higher than I remembered.
Maybe because I was small. Or maybe because I hadn’t done this in too long.
I hesitated.
Elias noticed. “Want help?”
“…Yes, please.”
He moved closer.
His hand slid gently around my waist. Just enough to lift. Just enough to guide.
His fingers rested on my hipbone for just a second, but it felt like an electric current ran straight through me.
I caught my breath.
My skin buzzed.
What was that?
Then he lifted me. Effortless.
Like I weighed nothing.
I landed in the saddle, heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
He adjusted the stirrups, checked the reins, then looked up at me.
“Good?”
“Yes,” I said, a little too fast.
He nodded, then led Starling out toward the trail.
We walked slowly, side by side.
Elias held the lead rope.
I let Starling follow him without needing to steer.
The trees swayed gently above us.
The sun filtered through the leaves in patches.
It felt like something out of a memory that wasn’t mine.
Something peaceful. Like it belonged to another life.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a while.
“I like it here,” I replied. “It’s… nice.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Figured you’d like it.”
I looked at him. “Thanks for bringing me.”
He glanced back at me, a slight grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.
“You’re welcome, my little princess.”
We kept going, Starling’s hooves crunching over dirt and fallen leaves.
At one point, Elias paused to adjust the saddle strap.
I leaned down without thinking, and for a second, our faces were just inches apart.
Too close.
He looked up at the same time I looked down.
Our breaths mingled for a second.
My lips could’ve brushed his cheek if I leaned forward just a little more.
My breath caught.
Then he stepped back.
Professional. Calm. Like nothing had happened.
“Strap’s fine,” he said.
He didn’t say more.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t joke.
Just moved on.
I was disappointed.
I didn’t know why.
I sat back in the saddle, suddenly feeling stupid.
Like I’d imagined the tension.
Like maybe it was all in my head.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
But I knew I didn’t want him to pull away.
He glanced at me then, eyes narrowing just slightly.
Like he’d caught something in my expression that I hadn’t meant to show.
“You wanna try a trot?” he asked, nodding toward the trail ahead.
“Let him run a little?”
I blinked. “Run?”
“Well, more like jog,” he said. “Starling’s trained. He won’t go fast.”
I hesitated.
I’d never ridden at anything above a slow walk.
Back in therapy, everything was slow. Gentle. Safe.
But it sounded fun… I kind of wanted to try.
“I guess,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.
I figured my eyes were sparkling. Not that I intended them to.
Elias gave me a look that almost counted as a grin.
Then, in one smooth motion, he swung himself up onto the horse behind me.
I nearly jumped. “You’re—what—?”
“Relax,” he said. “I’ll steer. You just hang on.”
And before I could think of a reason to stop him, Starling started to move.
The rhythm shifted.
The world blurred just a little.
I grabbed the horn of the saddle with both hands and laughed before I could help it.
The wind touched my face.
My heart thudded, not from fear this time, but from something lighter.
Something like freedom.
For a few seconds, I forgot everything else.
The silence. The sadness. The way he’d stepped back.
All I could feel was the warmth of the sun, the movement beneath me, and the steady presence of Elias just behind me, close enough to guide, but not overwhelm.
It was the closest we’d ever been since the day he saved me.
I liked the way he had his arms around me.
It made me feel warm and safe.
And his body touched mine just a little as the horse trotted.
It was… exhilarating.
By the time we looped back toward the barn, I’d memorized the way his shoulders moved when he walked.
The way he adjusted his sleeves every few minutes.
The way he always looked back, not at me, but at everything.
As if danger could come from anywhere.
As if protecting me was just instinct.
He helped me down from the horse, careful not to touch me more than necessary.
It was weird.
I’d never noticed it before today.
And again, I felt it. That buzz under my skin.
I wanted him to grab my hand.
I wanted him to steady me a second longer.
I didn’t know why.
But he stepped back and gave me space.
“Nice ride,” he said.
“Yes,” I smiled at him. Or at least I hoped I did. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Chapter 8 : Horses -Elias
I fought to protect her smile… from this side of the line. -Elias
Elias
We were twenty minutes out when my phone buzzed.
So I pulled over to check.
Luca:
What’s up, old man
Why are you driving at 7 on a Saturday?
Me:
Taking my little princess out for her birthday
Luca:
oooh~ that makes sense
She’s not really a “little” princess anymore, huh?
Me:
She turned 20 today.
There was a pause. Then:
Luca:
…so does that mean I can shoot my shot?
I didn’t answer.
Then I did.
Me:
You wanna die?
Luca:
😂😂 chill bro I’m kidding
sort of
I put my phone face down in the cupholder and didn’t bother replying again.
Luca was all talk. But still.
The idea, just the idea of Liana in someone else’s arms, left a bitter taste in my mouth.
It wasn’t jealousy.
It was something else.
Something I didn’t want to name.
I guess I was just being protective.
The barn smelled like hay, clean leather, and morning dew.
She lit up the second we stepped out of the truck.
Not with words. Just… her shoulders dropped, her eyes softened.
She took a deep breath like she finally remembered how to.
I introduced her to Starling, the gelding I’d reserved.
She ran her hand along his neck like she’d done it a thousand times.
She probably had, back in therapy.
The horse leaned into her touch without flinching.
Still had the touch, I told her.
She smiled. The real kind. The kind you don’t plan.
It hit me harder than I wanted it to.
She hesitated before mounting. I offered help. She said yes.
So I stepped in.
My hand found her waist, barely a grip at all.
Her ribs were right there, thin, fragile.
She’d grown, yes, but still felt too small for this world.
And then… contact. Just a second.
Skin. Warmth. Something electric.
I pulled my hand back the moment she was settled.
No.
Not now. Not ever.
She was a kid when I found her.
She’s still a kid.
Even if her body was growing into something else, my job wasn’t to notice that.
She looked good on that horse.
Relaxed. At home.
Like this was where she belonged, not in some house with a man twice her size.
I led Starling down the trail, letting her enjoy the ride.
She was quiet, as usual.
But not the shut-down kind of quiet.
Just… present. At peace.
I said something about the weather.
She thanked me for bringing her.
Then she smiled again.
Not just with her lips. Her eyes smiled too.
Like being here meant something.
She said, “Thanks for bringing me.”
I wanted to say, Anytime.
But I just gave her the usual line.
“You’re welcome, my little princess.”
She didn’t flinch at the nickname.
She never did.
But this time, it felt different in my mouth.
Too soft. Too easy.
I looked away before I could think about why.
At one point, I paused to adjust her stirrup.
She leaned down to check.
Too close.
Our faces just inches apart.
I looked up.
She looked down.
Her eyes caught mine.
Big. Dark. Full of something I wasn’t ready to define.
I stepped back immediately.
“Strap’s fine,” I said, voice flat.
She blinked. Her face fell, just a fraction.
I saw it.
I felt it.
She was disappointed.
And I hated that I was the reason.
But I couldn’t let her read me wrong.
Couldn’t let my line blur.
One slip, and this whole thing falls apart.
To fix it, I did what I always did.
I gave her something else to focus on.
“You wanna try a trot?” I asked. “Let him run a little?”
She perked up immediately.
“Really?” she asked. Her voice lifted, lighter than before.
“Really,” I said. “Starling won’t go fast. I’ve got him.”
She nodded, eyes bright.
God, when was the last time she looked this happy?
In one smooth move, I mounted behind her.
She startled. “You’re—what—?”
“I’ll steer. You just hold on.”
She did.
And we moved.
The pace wasn’t much, just a light jog, but the motion lifted us both.
She laughed.
Out loud.
A real laugh.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard that sound before.
The wind hit her face.
She tilted her head back, loose strands of hair whipping past my arm.
She didn’t even notice me anymore.
And that was good.
That was how it should be.
Because all I wanted, what I’ve always wanted, was to see her happy.
To give her something the world never had.
Safety. Space. A chance to heal and thrive.
Even if that meant keeping my distance.
Even if that meant staying on this side of the line—forever.
We finished the ride just before noon.
She talked more on the walk back. Not much. But enough.
I could tell she was happy. Lighter.
Almost… like a normal twenty-year-old.
I helped her down from the horse, careful not to touch her more than I had to.
And again, I felt it.
That flicker of heat. That stupid little jolt under my skin.
I ignored it.
The drive home was quiet.
She was tired.
Her head leaned against the passenger window, hair slightly damp from the sun.
She dozed off somewhere around the freeway.
I glanced over.
More than once.
Her face was relaxed. Peaceful.
Like the weight she always carried had let go for a moment.
This was the version of her I fought to protect.
Not the girl from five years ago, curled up in a warehouse.
Not the one who flinched at footsteps or couldn’t sleep through the night.
But this—
The one who laughed. The one who reached out.
The one who was finally starting to live.
I turned my eyes back to the road.
Told myself I didn’t need more than that.
She had no idea.
No idea how tightly I was holding the line.
And no idea that someday, someone else might not.
But that wasn’t my place to think about.
She was safe.
That was enough.
Chapter 9 : Sweat –Liana
I’m drawn to him… like a moth to a flame. -Liana
Liana
Elias had turned one corner of the house into a gym.
A full one.
With weights, a bench, resistance bands, and all those heavy things that look like they belong in a superhero movie.
I never really paid attention to it before.
It was just… background.
Like the sound of his blender in the morning or the scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway.
But today, I noticed it.
Because today, I watched him use it.
He was doing chest presses, lying on the bench, lifting a bar that looked like it could crush me in one drop.
His arms moved in slow, controlled motions.
Every repetition pulled veins to the surface.
His forearms were dusted with sweat. Tight. Corded with muscle.
His T-shirt clung to his back and shoulders like it was trying to survive.
My throat went dry.
I didn’t know why.
I wasn’t scared.
I wasn’t even embarrassed.
I was… curious.
Was this what people meant when they said someone was attractive?
Because I’d seen good-looking people before. On TV. In magazines.
But none of them made my stomach feel weird.
None of them made me forget how to blink.
I sat on the floor a few feet away, pretending to scroll through my phone.
But I wasn’t looking at anything.
I was watching him.
And I didn’t understand why.
Why I couldn’t take my eyes off him?
He finished his set and sat up, grabbing a towel to wipe his face.
He noticed me then.
“What are you doing there?” he asked, taking a sip from his water bottle.
I tried to sound normal. “Nothing.”
He raised a brow. “You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes.”
I blinked. “Oh. I guess I lost track of time.”
He chuckled. “That’s a first.”
I hesitated.
Then said it.
“Can you teach me?”
He paused mid-drink. “Teach you what?”
I pointed at the weights. “That. Working out.”
He looked at me like I’d just asked to join the army.
“You want to lift weights?”
“I want to exercise,” I clarified. “You always say it’s good for me.”
“I do,” he said slowly. “But you always change the subject.”
“I’m not changing it now.”
He set the bottle down, still watching me.
“Why the sudden interest?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Because I didn’t know how to explain.
Because “I just want to be near you” sounded pathetic.
Because “I like watching your arms move” wasn’t a real reason.
Because “I want you to look at me like I’m not a fragile little thing” was too close to the truth.
So I shrugged. “I just want to try.”
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted.
Not warmer. Not softer.
But focused.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He stood, grabbing a mat from the wall and laying it down in front of me.
“All right. Let’s start with the basics. No weights yet. Just movement.”
He guided me into a squat.
Hands out, feet shoulder-width apart.
I tried.
I wobbled.
My legs trembled before I even bent halfway.
Elias laughed a little, the way you would laugh when you see a puppy trip.
I knew he wasn’t laughing at me.
But I was a little embarrassed.
He said with a smile, “It’s a start.”
We went through a few stretches, lunges, something called a plank.
Everything burned.
My arms shook.
My face flushed, not from the exercise, but from how close he stood.
How calmly he corrected my posture.
How sometimes, when his fingers brushed my shoulder or back, I felt that buzz again.
That strange, tingling, skin-deep awareness.
Like my body noticed something before my mind caught up.
After fifteen minutes, I collapsed onto the mat.
Elias crouched beside me, handing me a water bottle.
“You good?”
“I think I’m dying,” I muttered.
He smiled. “Nah. Just sweating. That’s different.”
I looked at him again.
His jaw was sharp. His neck glistened. His shirt had darkened around the chest.
His whole body looked like it had been carved for battle and built for comfort, all at once.
I shouldn’t notice these things.
But I did.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle.
“Anything for my little princess.”
We sat in silence for a while.
I listened to our breaths. His was even. Mine was a mess.
Then I asked, “Do you really think I can get stronger?”
He turned to me. “I know you can.”
Not maybe. Not if you try.
Just… I know.
Like he’d already decided it for me.
And in that moment, I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to be someone strong. Someone capable.
Someone he wouldn’t have to save all the time.
