Heartbreak And Wars

Aloe's POV   I didn't sleep, not really didn't sleep, didn't sleep. I just kept my eyes open long after my body had given up, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds until I could convince myself to move. Every sound in the house made my heart jump.... Not minding if it's soft thuds, a creak in the floorboards, the faint hum of the refrigerator, it's all alarming cause I felt exposed.   Not in a physical way, I knew Blake had eyes on everything but in a way that made my chest tight, like being under someone's gaze could reach into me and pick me apart.   When I finally got up, I realized I wasn't entirely aware of why I'd done it. Part of me had wanted to see him, to test the presence I couldn't stop thinking about since I arrived.   Another part was more selfish, it was just a desire for comfort in a world that had become cold, distant, and frightening. I tried to push that last thought away. I am married and also pregnant. None of this changes that.   I found him in the kitchen. He was standing with his back to me, his fingers drumming lightly on the counter, calm and patient in a way that was infuriating. His jacket hung from his shoulders, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the lean tension in his arms. My stomach twisted, not entirely unpleasant, and I forced my eyes down to the floor.   "You're awake," he said, his voice was like a lullaby. I nodded, keeping my hands folded in front of me.   "You should rest," he added. "Tomorrow might be... A bit demanding."   "I'm fine," I muttered. Like who told him I want to rest... such a jerk. Oh dear, my hormones are getting the better part of me.   He turned, and I caught his eyes. There was something there, something he didn't bother explaining. It hit me in a way I wasn't prepared for. My pulse sped, a familiar, unwelcome heat curling low in my belly. I forced myself to breathe slowly, telling myself that it was just fear, just adrenaline, that I was safe, that none of this mattered because it couldn't.   And yet, the look he gave me stared longer than any warning, longer than I wanted it to. I could feel him noticing the slight quiver in my fingers, the way my breath hitched when he shifted closer.   Although he didn't move suddenly, he just moved a little bit closer, and even though the space between us is still much, the air around him pressed closer, and I realized I'd been holding myself tight against the counter just to stay upright.   I took a step back. "I need..."   "No," he interrupted. "You don't need to go back to the room and coil up." His voice dropped.   "You need to let yourself feel safe," he murmured.   I laughed, in a low and dry way. "Safe? I don't feel safe anywhere anymore."   He didn't argue. He just reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. My body reacted before my mind could, the tension in my shoulders, a shiver I tried to hide, heat I tried to ignore. I turned my face slightly, wanting to step back, but not fast enough. His hand went down  at the curve of my jaw.   "Don't fight it," he said leaning closer, and closer.   I wanted to pull away, push him, tell him he had no right, but my voice faltered. I had no words strong enough to push him out entirely.   My chest tightened, and immediately I remembered that I was still pregnant for my husband, that I am still someone else's wife. My hands moved to the small swell under my shirt, clutching the fabric over my belly almost instinctively, a silent boundary.   Blake noticed that I was uncomfortable. I could see it in the slight pause of his hand, the sharp intake of his breath, and I felt a strange, confusing relief. He understood, but that didn't make him stop entirely.   "Just stay here," he said. His lips curved faintly, but his eyes didn't soften. "I'm not going to cross a line you won't let me cross."   I swallowed hard, nodding, trying to gather myself. But it wasn't just control I was wrestling with, it was the way he made me aware of what I'd denied myself for so long. The desire, the freedom to want something purely for myself. Something I didn't have to hide behind.   He stepped closer again, but this time, in that teasing bad boy way. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I stepped back instinctively, pressing my back against the counter. My mind screamed, You can't. You won't. You mustn't. My body, though, betrayed me, betraying logic with every subtle twitch, every involuntary lean.   He studied me, silently, like he could read the war inside me without me speaking. Then, finally, he let out a low sigh, stepping away just enough to let me breathe.   "You're stronger than you realize," he murmured, almost to himself.   I shook my head, pushing him from my thoughts. "I'm not anyone's prize. I'm not..." I stopped myself, biting back the rest. I wouldn't admit to the tangle of emotions building inside me, because honestly I don't even know what I am saying..   He didn't press, just turned slightly, leaning against the counter. His presence filled the room, and I realized I could feel him without looking, without touching. Every movement he made was careful, almost like he was testing boundaries as much as respecting them.   I backed toward the bedroom, telling myself I needed rest, needed distance. My legs felt heavy, my mind buzzing with tension, with the unspoken electricity between us, I thought he would call me back again... but he didn't, and honestly I appreciate that.   I climbed into bed fully clothed, pulling the blanket over me like a shield, trying to calm my pulse.   And yet, despite every attempt, I felt his gaze as I lay there, and I knew that tonight, nothing would be simple.   Because Blake Matthew had entered my life not as a savior, not as a friend, but as a force I could neither control nor ignore. And I wasn't sure I wanted to.