Nena stomped out of the bathroom, phone pressed to her ear, voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Yes, Ayana is here! She's actually babysitting him! Can you believe it?" she laughed, pacing in the hallway.
"I mean—she's the only one he'll let near him. Not Mark. Not Liam. Not even Jake. Just her!"
She paused, giggling. "Yep. All on Seraphina's orders. I would have volunteered, obviously, but I'm busy being fabulous."
She hung up and spun on her heel, smirking at the three boys leaning casually against the lockers.
"Guess what?" she said, eyes glittering.
Jake grinned immediately. "What? Did she finally trip over her own feet?"
"Very funny," Nena said, rolling her eyes. "No, Ethan is stuck at home sick, and Ayana—just Ayana—is taking care of him. Can you imagine?"
Liam let out a low whistle. "Wow… okay, that's… impressive. She survived the front gate, too?"
Jake laughed, nudging Mark. "Bet he's panicking inside. Or pretending he's not. Classic Ethan."
Mark shifted, jaw tightening just slightly, though he tried to play it cool. "Yeah… yeah, probably. She's… competent."
Jake smirked. "Competent? You mean perfect, right? Don't tell me you're jealous, Mark."
Mark frowned. "I'm… not jealous. Just… curious."
Nena snorted. "Curious? Sure, Mark. Totally 'curious.' You're green around the edges."
Jake clapped his hands. "Alright, alright. So the scene: Ayana vs. Sick Genius. Stakes are high. I predict chaos. Or maybe romance. Or both."
Liam laughed. "I just want popcorn."
Nena tossed her hair. "Nope. You guys? Supporting cast. Ayana's the hero here. The rest of you? Background extras."
Mark groaned under his breath, but Jake leaned closer to him. "Relax, bro. It's not like he's your problem… yet."
Mark rolled his eyes, muttering something about "definitely not my problem" while clearly glancing at his phone like he was half-checking on Ayana anyway.
Jake winked at him. "Good luck, Ethan. He's in good hands… mostly''
--
By the time night rolled in, the mansion had quieted down. The chandeliers above sparkled faintly, and the corridors echoed only with the soft hum of the air conditioner.
I found myself in Ethan's room again, this time with no phone calls, no teasing from friends—just the soft, steady presence of him in bed.
He was tucked under the blanket, eyes closed, breathing shallow but steady. His red nose still peeked out from the blanket, and I couldn't help but smile.
I placed the tray with another spoon of soup and some water on the bedside table.
"Okay," I said softly. "Time for another round. Don't make me chase you."
He opened one eye lazily, gave me a look that clearly said, try me, and then rolled over onto his side, stubborn.
I sighed, adjusting the pillow under his head. "Fine, but I'm not leaving until you eat something."
He blinked at me, lips twitching, silent but defiant.
I scooped a spoon of soup and held it to his lips. He leaned back, eyes half-closed, then finally took it.
"Ugh," he muttered, voice muffled. "You're… relentless."
I raised an eyebrow. "Someone has to make sure you survive."
He let out a quiet, almost inaudible laugh—the kind that barely reached his lips. Then he settled back against the pillows, letting me take care of the small tasks around him: fixing his blanket, setting his water, folding some laundry I found on a chair.
At one point, he reached just enough to swipe a spoon from my hand with a teasing flick of his fingers. "Too slow," he whispered.
I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "You're impossible."
He didn't argue. Instead, he let me feed him another bite, eyes flicking to mine for a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to catch the quiet warmth in his gaze.
Later, I sat in the corner, trying not to fidget as I read a book I'd brought along. Every so often, he would make small, almost imperceptible gestures—pulling the blanket tighter, adjusting his pillow—always careful, almost protective.
When I moved to pour him a glass of water, he reached just far enough to brush my hand gently, as if checking I was okay.
I looked down at him, eyebrows raised. "Careful… you might get me spoiled."
His lips curved faintly, and he let out the softest, quietest hum—a sound that said more than words ever could.
And in that quiet, warm room, with the faint hum of the night outside and Ethan's subtle, silent attention on me, I realized something.
This was more than taking care of a sick genius.
He wasn't loud about it. He wasn't dramatic. But he trusted me. He noticed me. And, somehow… I think he liked it.
Even if no one else knew.
Even if he didn't say a single word.
And somehow, against all odds, I didn't mind one bit.
--
The night air was cool when I stepped out of Ethan's gate, the grocery list folded in my pocket like a mission briefing.
Soup ingredients. Medicine. Juice. Crackers.Nothing dramatic. Just a short walk.
The mansion lights dimmed behind me as the gate slid shut with a soft metallic click.
I adjusted the strap of the grocery bag on my shoulder and started down the street, humming quietly to myself, unaware that I wasn't alone.
Two streets away, a black car rolled to a slow stop.
Inside, the man in the passenger seat lowered his binoculars.
"That's her," he said softly. "Alone."
For the first time in days—weeks—she was alone.
No Jake leaning on a wall.No Mark pretending not to hover.No Liam trailing a few steps behind.
Just Ayana. Walking. Vulnerable.
The driver's fingers tightened around the wheel. "You're sure?"
"She came out of Ethan's place. No guards. No boys."A pause."This is the window."
The car moved again, quiet, deliberate, keeping its distance.
I turned a corner toward the small neighborhood store, phone in hand, rereading the list. I didn't notice the way footsteps synced with mine—too far back to hear clearly, too controlled to rush.
A shadow peeled itself off a wall behind me.
"Now," one of them murmured into an earpiece.
A hand reached out—
And froze.
A motorcycle engine roared suddenly at the end of the street.
Bright headlights flooded the road.
The man cursed under his breath, pulling back into the darkness as the bike slowed near me.
"Seriously?" Nena's voice called out as she lifted her helmet visor. "You went out alone?"
I blinked in surprise. "Nena?!"
She parked beside me, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Jake felt weird. Sent me to 'check the vibes.'"
From the shadows, the men stiffened.
"Abort?" the driver whispered.
"Wait," the other hissed.
Because the night wasn't done betraying them.
Another presence entered the street—calm footsteps, unhurried.
Mark.
Hands in his jacket pockets. Expression unreadable.Like he'd just been passing by.
He stopped beside me, glancing at the grocery list in my hand. "You forgot the honey," he said casually.
I stared. "How do you—"
"Ethan always takes honey when he's sick."
Across the street, the men went rigid.
"That's two," the passenger muttered.
Then another voice echoed from farther back.
"Wow. Grocery run without me? I'm hurt."
Jake stepped out from between parked cars, grinning like he hadn't just shattered someone's plan.
He slung an arm loosely over my shoulders. "You're grounded."
The silence across the street snapped.
"Pull out," the driver said urgently.
"Now."
The car eased away, disappearing before any of us noticed it had ever been there.
I laughed lightly, unaware of how close the night had come to swallowing me. "Did you guys plan this or—"
Jake snorted. "Nah. Just instincts."
Mark's eyes lingered on the dark end of the street a second too long before he looked away.
Nena slid her helmet back on. "Next time? Don't go alone."
I nodded, still clueless. "Okay, okay."
They walked with me to the store, arguing over soup brands like nothing had happened.
Behind them, far away, a fist slammed into a dashboard.
"So close," the scarred man growled.
A voice crackled through the earpiece—cold, displeased.
"You failed."
"She wasn't alone," he snapped. "They showed up out of nowhere."
A pause.
Then the voice replied, calm and dangerous.
"Then we wait for the moment they don't."
The line went dead.