Page 28 of Unrequited

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently. “Let’s get you some food.”

All I want is to spend time with him. I want to know that I'm safe, that no one is coming after me. I want to live in this fragile little bubble we've created. Just us. Just for now.

Please, just for a little while.

“I’m definitely feeling better,” I say, almost surprised by my own honesty.

“Aye,” he replies with a smirk. “That boy was a novice then.”

The way he says it—it’s grim. Final.

And maybe I should feel something. Horror? Sadness? Guilt? But I don’t.

“A novice?” I ask, my brows furrowed. I press for more. “What do you mean?”

But he doesn’t answer. He only gestures toward the couch. “Sit down, Zoya,” he says. “Let me take a look at you.”

Then he crouches in front of me, his hands on either side of my hips. His hair curls slightly at the ends, brushing the tops of his ears. His eyes—god, those eyes—they’re the brightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen.

His features are carved, symmetrical, and his cheeks are ruddy. There’s pride in the way he holds himself. A fierce, quiet confidence. It makes me feel safe. Untouchable.

“Did I do the right thing? Texting you?” I ask, unsure, whispering my doubt out loud.

“I told you to call me if you needed me,” he replies firmly. “Of course you did the right thing.”

“I was just afraid that I—” My voice catches. He presses his finger gently to my lips, silencing the fear.

“I understand. If you’d called your brothers, you would’ve opened a whole new kettle of fish, wouldn’tyou?”

I nod. I’ve always liked the Irish turn of phrases.

“I did the right thing,” I whisper.

He smiles. “Aye. You did.”

His approval does something to me, something that feels a lot like longing.

Since I was a little girl, I always knew how this would end.

I’d be married off, arranged by Rafail, no doubt. He’d try to find someone suitable for me, someone proper. My brother isn’t a monster, but the family comes first.

Love, though? Love has always been out of the question.

“Let’s get you settled, hmm?” he says, standing back up.

Thank god. I could listen to him talk all night. His voice soothes something raw in me. I want to ask him to read to me. To tell me a story. Anything.

“I love your voice,” I whisper, my cheeks pinkening with the honesty.

He glances at me and smiles, and I wonder… I wonder.

Maybe he’snotas dangerous as I fear. Maybe I’ve been so conditioned to see trouble where there is none that I’ve made him out to be more dangerous than he really is.

Maybe wecouldhave a future, just the two of us.

It’s stupid, I know. I’ve barely even kissed this man. He’s only kissed me once.

He’s Mr. Thursday, not my fiancé. And yet… he saved me tonight.