Chapter 32
1411 Words
✨The Quiet Between Breaths.✨
Nasir — POV
He was wedged up on his bed, one knee bent, his back against the headboard, watching the slow rise and fall of Flora’s chest as she slept.
She looked smaller like this. Fragile in a way that made something tight coil in his chest. Her lashes rested against tear-stained cheeks, shadows still clinging beneath her eyes. She had cried herself into exhaustion, the kind that hollowed you out and left nothing behind but sleep. Not the gentle kind either — this was the sleep of someone who had fought their own mind until it finally won.
Nasir ran a hand over his face.
He replayed the night again and again. The panic attack. The way her body had trembled, how she’d clutched his shirt like he was the only solid thing left in the world. He had held her, murmured nonsense, felt helpless in a way he hated. He was used to fixing things. Handling problems. Breaking them down until there was nothing left to threaten him.
This… he couldn’t punch. Couldn’t plan his way out of.
His eyes drifted back to her face.
What brought this on?
The answer crept up on him slowly, unwelcome and sharp.
In all the conversations they’d had — the laughter, the teasing, the dancing, the almosts — she had never spoken about her family. Never talked about home. Never explained why she was here, in this town, instead of the one she’d boarded the bus from. She’d skirted around it with practiced ease, redirecting conversations, offering half-smiles instead of answers.
People didn’t do that unless there was something to hide.
Or something that hurt too much to name.
Nasir swallowed.
What kind of hell had she seen before she ever stepped into his life?
Carefully, he shifted off the bed. Flora didn’t stir. She slept on, limbs heavy with exhaustion, breath deep and uneven. He paused at the doorway, watching her one last time, then quietly pulled the door shut behind him.
The hallway felt colder without her.
He pulled his phone from his pocket as he walked, jaw tight, mind already made up. He didn’t like digging into people’s pasts without permission. But he liked the idea of her being blindsided by whatever demons followed her even less.
He stepped outside, the door clicking softly shut, and dialed.
Rafe picked up on the second ring.
“Boss.”
“I need everything,” Nasir said, voice low. “Background. Family. Where she came from. Why she left. Anyone who might come looking.”
There was a pause.
“Is this about—”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“I’ll have something by tonight.”
Nasir exhaled. “Good.”
He ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing. He didn’t feel relief. Just a heavier kind of resolve.
Whatever she was running from, he needed to be faster.
---
By the time Flora stirred, the sun was already high.
She surfaced slowly, awareness creeping back in pieces — the unfamiliar weight of blankets, the quiet hum of a house that wasn’t her own, the dull ache behind her eyes from crying too much. Her throat felt tight, raw.
Her first thought made her stomach drop.
Nasir.
She pushed herself upright, panic fluttering weakly in her chest, but it didn’t explode the way it had before. Just a lingering tremor, like an echo.
The door creaked open.
Nasir stood there, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he’d showered, holding a tray far too full for one person.
“Hey,” he said gently.
Flora froze.
“Oh—” Her voice cracked immediately. She cleared her throat and looked anywhere but at him. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, already crossing the room. “You needed it.”
He set the tray on the bedside table. The smell hit her next — eggs, toast, something sweet she couldn’t quite place, and soup. Actual soup. Her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl.
Her face burned.
“I made breakfast,” he said casually. “Then realized it was closer to lunch. So… both.”
She pulled the blanket up, mortified. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.”
She shook her head, embarrassed to the tips of her ears. “I must look awful.”
Nasir smiled, soft and unguarded. “You look like someone who survived a hard night.”
That made her eyes sting.
She turned away, staring at the wall, shoulders curling inward. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Flora,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t.
He didn’t force her. Instead, he nudged the tray closer. “Eat a little. Please.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for the spoon. She took a small sip, then another. The warmth settled in her chest, loosening something tight and painful.
Nasir watched her quietly.
They ate like that for a while — her in small, careful bites, him pretending not to notice the way she avoided his gaze. He filled the silence without pressing, asking easy questions. Did she sleep at all? Was her head hurting? Did she like honey in her tea?
He didn’t ask why she broke.
Not yet.
Eventually, when the color returned faintly to her face, he spoke again.
“Where did you come from?” he asked gently.
Her spoon paused.
She swallowed. “Not far.”
“Far enough to get on a bus,” he said, not accusing, just observant.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Another silence. He let it stretch.
“My family…” Her voice trailed off. She pressed her lips together, eyes fixed on the tray. “It’s complicated.”
“I figured.”
She laughed weakly. “That obvious?”
“To someone who knows what silence looks like,” he said.
Her shoulders sagged. “They’re… strict. Traditional. Everything was decided before I ever had a say.”
He waited.
“I didn’t leave because I wanted adventure,” she continued softly. “I left because staying felt like drowning.”
That was all she could manage. The weight of it sat heavy between them.
Nasir nodded once, like he’d expected that answer all along. He didn’t push for names or details. He reached out instead, resting his hand near hers — close enough to feel, far enough not to trap.
“You’re safe here,” he said.
She flinched at the word.
Safe.
The idea scared her almost as much as it comforted her.
After a moment, she took a breath. “You asked me to stay,” she said quietly.
“I did.”
“I will,” she said, then looked up at him for the first time. Her eyes were steady now, serious. “On one condition.”
He arched a brow. “I’m listening.”
“Tell me who you really are,” she said. “Not the charm. Not the smiles. The truth. The weight behind your name.”
The air shifted.
Nasir leaned back slightly, studying her. This wasn’t curiosity. It was self-preservation. She needed to know what kind of ground she was standing on.
“That’s a dangerous question,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “That’s why I’m asking.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“My name carries… expectations,” he began carefully. “Influence. Power. It opens doors and closes others. People either want something from me or fear me.”
She listened, unblinking.
“I didn’t choose all of it,” he continued. “But I choose how I move within it.”
“And the dangers?” she asked softly.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Those aren’t yours to carry.”
She nodded. She didn’t press. That was her gift — knowing when enough was enough.
“So,” he said, voice lighter, “do we have a deal?”
She hesitated, then extended her hand. “We do.”
He took it gently, squeezing once.
And for the first time since she arrived in this town, the weight on her chest eased — not because it was gone, but because she wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
- Writer
