Nightmare

Ahana's POV

Sitting on the balcony under a starlit sky, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace. The soft glow of city lights stretched before me, and the cool evening breeze played with my hair. Having dinner with him in such a setting felt surreal, almost too good to be true. Maybe getting hurt wasn't so bad after all—being pampered, carried everywhere, and having no responsibilities felt like a luxury. I found myself stealing glances at him as he sat across from me, his features illuminated by the city lights.

"Don't stare at me like that," his deep, authoritative voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

Embarrassed, I looked away quickly, my cheeks burning. "I-I wasn't staring," I stammered, my eyes now fixed on my plate.

His gaze sharpened. "Don't play with your food. Eat it."

"I can't eat anymore," I protested softly, pushing my plate aside. "I already ate too much."

His jaw tightened, and his eyes locked onto mine. "You're not moving until you clean that plate." His tone left no room for argument. Without waiting for a response, he stood and left the balcony.

I slumped in my seat, pouting as I glanced at Mr. Jung, who stood nearby, smiling like he'd just witnessed the most heartwarming scene.

"Mr. Jung, it's not funny," I whined, crossing my arms.

But his smile only widened. "I've never seen him like this. You're lucky, Miss Ahana."

Lucky? I wasn't sure about that, but his words left me blushing. After much effort, I managed to finish my plate. Later, I sat back, enjoying the breeze, when a knock at the door interrupted my peace.

"Come in," I called, and he entered, his heavy steps and commanding presence filling the room.

His gaze landed on me, stern and assessing. "Why are you sitting here? You'll catch a cold. Sit inside; I need to talk to you."

He turned and walked back inside. I stood to follow him, but the pain from my injuries flared, making me stumble. Before I could hit the ground, his strong arms caught me.

His hands wrapped securely around my waist, and my palms instinctively gripped his broad shoulders for balance. Our faces were mere inches apart, and the city lights behind us seemed to dance in celebration. My hair fluttered in the breeze, and for a moment, it felt like we were the protagonists of a high-budget romantic anime.

My cheeks turned crimson as the memory of our earlier kiss replayed in my mind. His warm breath brushed against my face, his voice low and teasing. "You should've asked for help."

I tried to keep my thoughts steady, but my mouth betrayed me. "Don't you owe me an explanation for the kiss earlier?"

His hazel eyes glinted with amusement. "I thought you didn't want an explanation."

My eyes widened in shock. Did I say that out loud? Heat flooded my face as I wished for the ground to swallow me whole.

"Well, you provoked me," he added, his tone casual yet firm.

"H-How? I didn't!" I protested, looking down in embarrassment, my lips forming a pout.

"You did," he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress my frustration. "But…that was my first kiss," I whispered. "It was meant for someone I'd spend my life with."

His expression darkened for a moment, his jaw tightening. Jealousy flickered in his eyes, though he quickly masked it. "Then I suppose I should return it," he murmured.

Before I could process his words, his lips were on mine again. This kiss wasn't gentle like before; it was rough, filled with jealousy and an unspoken claim. I tried to push him away, my hands pressing against his chest, but he didn't budge. His dominance overpowered me, and I felt myself submitting to the intensity of the moment.

When I tapped his shoulder, gasping for breath, he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against mine. "Breathe, princess. I told you not to provoke me," he whispered, his voice tinged with something possessive.

The nickname made my heart skip a beat. "When…when did I provoke you?" I asked softly, my breath shaky.

He didn't answer, only lifting me effortlessly and carrying me to the bed. Gently tucking me in, he brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Don't bite your lips again," he warned before leaving the room.

---

It was well past midnight when I woke up to the sound of muffled cries. My body was drenched in sweat, and I couldn't move, trapped in the throes of a nightmare.

Images flashed in my mind—a car crash, a gunshot, someone falling. The chaos was overwhelming, and I felt myself spiraling into darkness.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me out of the void. His voice called to me, but I couldn't make out the words.

When I finally opened my eyes, his face was inches from mine, his expression a mix of concern and fear. Tears streamed down my face as I clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Shh," he murmured, his voice soft as he held me close. "You're okay. I've got you."

He sat on the bed with me on his lap, his hands cupping my cheeks. "Tell me," he urged, his hazel eyes searching mine. "What scared you so much? Trust me, princess."

I hesitated, but his steady gaze gave me the courage to speak. "It was… a car crash," I began, my voice trembling. "A gunshot… someone falling. I don't know how to explain it."

His body stiffened, and his eyes widened in shock. He looked at me like I'd just revealed a dark secret.

"Did…did I say something wrong?" I asked, my voice breaking.

Instead of answering, he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me as if I were his lifeline. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.

I didn't understand his reaction, but something told me that my nightmares weren't just mine—they were his, too. I felt his heartbeat against mine, strong yet erratic, as if he were wrestling with an invisible storm.

"You're the answer," he murmured so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

"The answer?" I repeated, confused.

He didn't elaborate, only holding me tighter. And in that moment, I realized that whatever connected us went far deeper than I could comprehend.