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Her voice cracks as it rises. “Send him away!”

The scream echoes through the apartment before dissolving into ragged breaths. She’s panting by the time she sinks onto the couch, her entire body trembling.

“I don’t want to see a doctor.” Her eyes turn pleading. “I don’t want a fucking doctor, you hear me?” Then, just as suddenly, she’s on her feet again.

What the hell is going on?

“Elara—”

“Fuck you. I said send him away.”

She storms towards me, yanking the refrigerator door open before slamming it shut so hard the bang nearly swallows another scream.

I don’t make a move, attempting to study her. What is she hiding from me?

“El—”

“Say my name one more time and I’ll—”

I catch both of her wrists before she can finish, guiding us backward until her lower back collides with the cold marble edge of the kitchen counter.

She struggles against my hold, jerking violently before driving her knee toward my groin but I stop her.

My free hand catches her knee, forcing it down as I wedge one of my legs between hers, pinning her in place.

A hiss slips past her lips, but I don’t loosen my grip. I don’t want to hurt her. Hell, I shouldn’t be laying a hand on her at all.

After what happened that night, the last thing she needs is another man restraining her. Yet, despite the panic blazing in her eyes, I know it isn’t my proximity that’s terrifying her.

She’s terrified the doctor will find something she doesn’t want me to know.

Her eyes are haunting—dark with fear, yet strangely vacant, and the sight makes my heart ache.

“P-please?” The word leaves her on the heels of a broken sob, barely more than a whisper.

And my heart thuds. I cave, offering a small nod, I watch the fight drain from her as she instantly stops struggling.

I pull my phone from my pocket and send the doctor a quick message, telling him his assistance won’t be needed— for now, at least.

Sliding the phone away, I hold her gaze. “Breathe for me, Elara.” I murmur in a low voice.

No tears fall, but I can see them lingering, threatening to spill at any second. As badly as I want answers—what she’s hiding, what’s hurting her—I can’t bear to push her any further.

I can wait, until she’s ready.

I lean forward and brush my lips against her forehead, pausing there for a heartbeat.

My breath stalls.

I just kissed her. But she doesn’t push me away.

“It’s okay.” I whisper, making no move to leave. And the way she’s clutching my shirt, I don’t think she wants me to either.

Her shoulders visibly relax, her hands splaying across my chest, fingers curled lightly into my shirt as her gaze stays fixed somewhere ahead.

She barely reaches my chest, leaving me with a clear view of the crown of her head. Strands of warm gold frame her face, catching the light and glowing softly every time she moves.

She is unreal, like a princess pulled straight out of a fairytale.