THE PROTECTIVE BROTHER

The room held its breath.

Nathan Gavrila stood at the threshold like a shadow carved from moonlight and steel. He said nothing—just looked at her. For a moment, Adel couldn't move. The air around him was heavier, colder, but not in the way his mother had been. This was a different kind of cold—sharp, silent, and dangerous. And yet… somehow, it didn't frighten her.

She met his eyes.

They were the same as in the photographs: stormy gray, unreadable, intense. But in person, they were far more devastating. They pinned her in place—not cruelly, but as if he were memorizing her, searching for a crack or change.

Then his shoulders relaxed. Just barely. A breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding released from her lungs.

"You're awake," he finally said. His voice was deep, quiet, and laced with tension.

Adel nodded slowly, unsure of how this version of Adelina usually responded to him. She tried to mimic the softness she imagined he'd expect.

"Yes. I... woke up this morning."

Nathan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room dimmed with his presence.

He approached the bed and sat on the armchair beside it without asking. Close enough to touch, but far enough to observe.

"They should've called me the moment you opened your eyes," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Where was the doctor? The staff? That maid—Anya—she let you eat alone?"

Adel hesitated. "It's not a big deal, I—"

"It is," he cut her off, his jaw tightening. "You were unconscious for three days. Anything could've happened. You should never have been left alone."

His voice carried weight—not volume, but gravity. Like each word was sharpened and deliberate.

Adel watched him closely. He was immaculate. Black shirt fitted perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled halfway to his forearms, revealing veins and muscle. His hair, slightly tousled, fell just enough to shadow his eyes. There was something almost cinematic about him. Dangerous, yes—but beautiful too. The kind of man people obeyed without question.

And he was looking at her like she was the center of the universe.

"I'll talk to the doctor," he said, already pulling out his phone.

"Please don't," she blurted. "I mean—it's okay. I feel fine. Really."

He stilled, then lowered the phone. His gaze narrowed.

"Since when do you say 'I feel fine'?"

Adel blinked. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in slightly. "You always say you're tired. Or cold. Or bored. Never 'fine.'"

She faltered. Her pulse quickened. "Maybe I'm... changing."

Silence stretched between them.

Then something shifted in his eyes—doubt, maybe. Or curiosity. But he let it go. For now.

"I'll make sure they monitor you more closely. You'll stay here one more night. We're returning home tomorrow morning."

"Home?"

"The Gavrila estate. I've had your room prepared."

Adel hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

He stood suddenly. "You need to rest. I'll check on you later."

But he didn't leave. Not yet.

He walked to the window, adjusted the curtain to block out a harsh beam of moonlight, then returned to her side.

And then—so unexpectedly it made her breath hitch—he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her temple, gentle. Possessive.

"Sleep well, Adelina," he said.

And just like that, he was gone.

The next morning came with chaos.

Not from her—but from Nathan.

Adel, still in bed, heard his voice booming from the hallway. Deep, furious.

"—unacceptable! She could've collapsed! She hadn't eaten for hours! Where was the attending nurse? Who allowed this kind of neglect in a private facility that charges six figures a night?"

Adel flinched. She didn't need to guess who he was talking about.

When the door opened, his expression was stormy. He paused only when he saw her sitting upright, startled.

"Sorry," he said tightly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. But... you don't have to yell."

His jaw clenched. "They deserved it."

Adel almost smiled. There was something childishly intense about the way he said it. Like he truly believed no one in the world had the right to treat her with anything less than perfection.

Later, while being helped into a car by Anya, she caught glimpses of the hospital staff bowing, clearly terrified. Nathan said nothing. His hand rested lightly on her back as he guided her into the sleek black vehicle.

The ride was quiet.

Adel stared out the tinted window, watching the city blur past. She tried to make sense of her own existence. The memories of her past life were clear, sharp—every struggle, every disappointment, every moment of loneliness. But here...

A name. A body. A stranger's life.

And fragments of something else.

Flashes.

Laughter under sunlight. A piano melody. A pair of small hands reaching for a book.

Memories.

Not hers. Not Adel's.

But Adelina's.

They came like waves—brief, disorienting. She closed her eyes and let them pass.

"You're pale," Nathan's voice interrupted. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Just tired," she replied. "I think the motion got to me."

He reached forward, adjusted the car's temperature, and handed her a bottle of water without looking.

She accepted it wordlessly.

The Gavrila estate rose like a palace behind iron gates and manicured hedges. Stone columns, sprawling terraces, fountains shaped like marble lions. It looked like something out of an old European aristocracy fantasy. The car pulled into a circular driveway, where several staff members were already waiting.

Nathan stepped out first, then offered his hand to her.

Adel hesitated before taking it. His grip was warm and firm.

"Careful," he murmured. "Don't rush."

She nodded, but as she took a step, her vision swayed. The ground tilted slightly beneath her.

"Adelina!"

Before she could protest, his arms wrapped around her. She was lifted effortlessly—one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back. Cradled like she weighed nothing.

"Put me down," she whispered, embarrassed. "People are watching."

"Let them."

Her face burned. She pressed her forehead lightly against his shoulder. His scent—clean, crisp, faintly musky—made her dizzy all over again.

The staff bowed as Nathan carried her inside without breaking stride.

Inside, the estate was even more breathtaking. Marble floors, oil paintings, golden fixtures. But Adel couldn't focus. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, and not from weakness.

He carried her up a grand staircase and into a room twice the size of the hospital suite. Pale blue walls. A chandelier dripping with crystal. Floor-to-ceiling windows and silk everything.

Nathan placed her gently on the bed.

"You'll rest here. I'll have your meals brought up. Don't argue."

Adel looked up at him.

His face was unreadable again, but his hands lingered on the edge of the blanket.

"You scared me," he said finally, so low it barely reached her.

Then he turned and left without waiting for a response.

And Adel was left wondering: Was this protectiveness just sibling instinct?

Or was it something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous?