Chapter Nine #3
I kneel beside the bed, careful not to startle her, and stroke her hair slowly, whispering, “Shhh, you’re safe, Ayla.
I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s just a dream.
” Slowly, her lashes flutter, her eyes huge and glassy, searching the dark for reassurance.
She looks at me, lost and trembling, and my chest aches with the need to protect her from every nightmare—past or present.
“Hey, beautiful,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper as my fingers gently thread through her hair.
She blinks up at me, eyes wide and glassy, her cheeks still wet with tears.
“Hi,” she breathes, and the sound of it sends my heart into overdrive.
I can’t look away—her long, tangled brown hair spills across the pillow, her face flushed, lips parted in confusion and relief.
She’s heartbreakingly gorgeous, even undone by fear and sleep, her curves outlined in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
For a moment, I just stare, struck silent by how vulnerable and perfect she looks.
I finally get it—why Alex can’t let her go.
In this moment, I’m not sure I could either.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice tremulous, and my heart aches for her.
I don’t think she even knows how much I wish I could pull every ghost out of her dreams and destroy them myself.
Seeing her fighting in her sleep, I feel this deep, helpless fury—not at her, never at her, but at the world and the men who did this to her.
I want to be the shield that keeps the darkness away, to fight off the shadows for her, even if I know I can’t win every battle, and the desire catches me off guard.
She sniffles and wipes her eyes, then looks away, her lashes fluttering. "Sorry for bothering you," she whispers, her voice so soft I almost miss it. Shame and exhaustion cling to her like a second skin.
I smooth my hand through her hair and shake my head, my voice gentle and certain. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me, Ayla. Not for this. Never for this. Nightmares like that… they don’t come from nowhere, and you don’t have to fight them alone.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “Yeah…” Her voice trails off, thin as a thread, and for a second I see her walls start to crumble. My chest aches with hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, she’ll let me be there for her.
I hesitate, torn between wanting to protect her and not wanting to push.
But the need to understand is stronger. “Ayla, earlier… in your dream, you were saying something about your dad.” My words are gentle, careful, barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you ever want to talk…
I’m here. You’re not alone. I want to be here. ”
For a heartbeat, the air is thick with things unsaid. She studies my face, searching for judgment, maybe, or just a lifeline. There’s a tension between us—her fear, my hope—and underneath, something warmer, something that could be more if she lets me closer.
“Can you lie with me, please?” she asks, her voice so small it almost breaks me.
She sounds desperate not to be alone, and I don’t hesitate for a second.
I slide into bed behind her, and she lets me wrap my arms around her, her body trembling against mine.
Gradually, I feel her relax, her shaky breaths evening out as I hold her tighter.
“Of course I will,” I whisper, stroking her hair in slow, gentle motions until her breathing settles and I know she’s drifted off again. I stay awake long after she’s asleep, determined to keep the nightmares at bay, even if all I can do is be here and hold her through the dark.
I know I should get up, give her space, be practical, and keep my boundaries clear.
I’m not supposed to want this, not supposed to want anything but to help Alex keep her safe.
But lying here, I finally understand him.
The urge to protect her is overwhelming, bone-deep.
I take in her scent, the feel of her warmth pressed against me, and the steady flutter of her heartbeat under my palm.
Something about her makes it impossible to let go—makes me want to be a shield between her and everything that’s ever tried to break her.
When I hear Zayn and Alex come home, I don’t move a muscle.
Ayla is still tucked against me, her breathing finally steady, and I can’t bring myself to leave her side—not after what she’s been through, whatever it is.
A few minutes later, their footsteps pause in the doorway.
I look up, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake her.
“She had a nightmare,” I whisper. “She asked me to stay.”
I feel awkward, like I owe them some bigger explanation, but the truth is simple. I just want to take care of her.
Alex’s expression softens, not a hint of jealousy or anger in his eyes, which honestly catches me off guard.
Just honest gratitude. “Thank you, man,” he murmurs.
“You stay, then.” His tone is gentle, almost protective.
Zayn nods, silent, and together they quietly pull the door shut, leaving me alone with Ayla in the hush of the room.
For a moment, I just listen to her breathing, letting the peace settle in. I’m not here because I want her for myself. I’m here because she needs someone, and right now, that someone is me. That’s all that matters.