CHAPTER 9

"You need to be more careful," he said, his voice sharp. "From now on, my bodyguards will be watching you closely. You're not going anywhere without them."

Tears welled up in Emily's eyes. "But I haven't done anything wrong," she said, her voice breaking. "This isn't what you think… it's just a mosquito bite."

But Ethan didn't seem convinced. His frustration spilled over. "I can't trust you if you won't even explain yourself," he shouted, pacing across the room. "If I give you too much freedom, you'll end up making choices that will ruin your life."

Emily's face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt trapped, misunderstood. "Why can't I leave the house?" she cried, desperate for an explanation.

Ethan spun around; his eyes fierce. "Because I care about you," he shouted, his voice trembling with emotion he hadn't shown before. "I don't want you to get hurt or make mistakes that you'll regret later. If I let you do whatever you want, you'll... you'll end up getting involved with someone who doesn't care about you. Someone who'll destroy your life!"

His words hit her like a slap. "Why is he saying these things?" she thought, her heart breaking. It was as though his protective nature had turned into something else, something darker that she didn't recognize.

After a long, tense silence, Ethan stormed out of the room, leaving Emily alone, devastated. She sank onto the bed, sobbing, her hands shaking. "What's happening between us?" she wondered, her mind swirling with confusion and sadness.

Ethan s POV

"Finally, after a month, I'll see her". The thought of seeing Emily again brought an unfamiliar warmth to Ethan's chest. He had missed her more than he cared to admit, her presence had become a constant comfort in his life. However, delays with his flight kept him away longer than expected, and his impatience grew. A friend had persuaded him to stop by a bar to catch up, and one drink turned into several. By the time he returned home, he was unsteady, his mind clouded with alcohol—and thoughts of Emily.

As he stumbled through the front door, the room spun slightly, and he struggled to find his footing. He was aware of how off-balance he was, but he couldn't shake the one clear image in his mind: Emily. Where is she? he wondered, the thought of seeing her keeping him focused as much as his fuzzy mind would allow.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on him—soft, warm, familiar. Emily.

Her voice, filled with worry, cut through the haze. "Ethan!" she said, her hands trying to steady him. He could hear the concern, feel her touch, but everything around him felt distant. His steps faltered, and he leaned into her more than he intended. I've missed her so much, he thought, but the alcohol made it difficult to control his body, his emotions.

"Ethan, what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to hold him up. He could barely make out her words, and before he knew it, his footing gave way, sending both of them tumbling to the floor.

The world spun again, but when they hit the ground, everything narrowed to one thing—Emily. She was underneath him, her body pressed against his, and all he could see, all he could feel, was her. His heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. His mind, muddled and unclear, could only focus on how close they were—how beautiful she looked even in this moment of chaos.

His hand tightened on hers instinctively, preventing her from getting up. He didn't want her to leave, not yet. Emily's breath was soft against his skin, and for a fleeting moment, something stirred inside him, something deep, intense, and unfamiliar. His face was inches from hers, and he could see the confusion and concern in her eyes, but also something else, something he couldn't name.

Without thinking, without considering the consequences, Ethan leaned in. His lips brushed against hers, hesitant at first, then deeper, more intense. The kiss ignited something within him, something he hadn't realized was there, and for a brief, burning moment, everything felt right.

But even through the fog, a small voice in his head tried to pull him back. This isn't right. Not like this, it whispered, though the alcohol dulled its urgency. Before he could let go of the moment, Emily gently pushed him away, her touch soft yet firm. Her voice broke through, shaky and filled with concern. "Ethan, please... let me help you."

Her words reached him, and it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. He blinked, suddenly realizing what had just happened, and shame washed over him. His grip loosened, and he let her go, his chest tightening with regret. What have I done? he thought, guilt already gnawing at him.

The next morning, Ethan woke up with a pounding headache. He sat up slowly, trying to piece together how he ended up in bed. His memory from the previous night was foggy, fragmented—he remembered coming home, but everything after that felt like a dream, hazy and unclear. He vaguely recalled seeing Emily, but he couldn't be sure if that memory was real or just a part of his drunken imagination. He had experienced dreams about her before—ones that left him questioning his emotions when he woke. Maybe last night had been just another one of those.

He finished his morning rituals, splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to clear his mind. But as the day began, a sense of unease still lingered. He was eager to see Emily again after so much time apart, the thought of her bringing a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.