Chapter 4: Don't Play With Her Heart

Gaea

I had been writing for hours.

Six chapters done in one sitting.

I should’ve felt proud.

Instead, I just felt… tired in a way that had nothing to do with work.

At least I was making progress. At this rate, I might actually finish the book sooner than expected.

I sighed and stood up, walking toward the living room.

Clyden was asleep on the sofa.

Again.

He insisted I write in his room because he said he was “too tired from work,” but I refused.

Trusting a shameless man like him alone in a bedroom with me? Absolutely not.

“I'm going home,” I said, gently tapping his knee.

He stirred immediately, rubbing his eyes like a child being woken up.

The expression on his face made me pause.

Soft.

Sleepy.

Strangely innocent.

It was unfair how he could look like that after everything he says and does.

“Clyden, I’ll just fix my things in my apartment first before coming back—”

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled.

I raised a brow at him.

Of course.

I clicked my tongue but still walked to the kitchen.

“I swear, I’m starting to feel like I’m taking care of a child,” I muttered. “Clyden, behave.”

Before I could even reach the stove—

Arms wrapped around me from behind.

I froze.

Warm.

Strong.

Too familiar already.

“Hey—how am I supposed to cook if you’re doing that?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed while my heart suddenly forgot how to behave.

He didn’t let go.

Instead, he leaned his head lightly on my shoulder.

“I thought you said you were going home,” he said quietly.

“I am. After I cook you something.”

A small pause.

Then—

“It feels nice,” he murmured. “Having someone here.”

My hands slowed.

“What?”

“Stay here,” he added, voice lower now. “Stay beside me.”

I turned my head slightly, glancing at him.

Then I lightly tapped his forehead.

“Is that your way of saying you like me?”

He let go instantly, rubbing his forehead like I had seriously injured him.

I laughed.

“Don’t say sweet things. It doesn’t suit you.”

He smirked again.

“Is that your way of saying you’re affected?”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the stove.

“Whatever you say.”

The food was simple—just pork soup. I wasn’t even sure if he liked it.

I wasn’t used to cooking for someone else.

Especially not someone like him.

“Who called you earlier?” I asked without thinking when he came back.

He stopped walking.

I didn’t know why I asked that.

Maybe I was just used to asking that question with Russu.

I didn’t even look at him as I served the food.

“I was just curious,” I added quickly. “Eat.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he just watched me.

That intense stare again.

Like he was reading something I wasn’t saying out loud.

“Who’s messing with your head?” he finally asked.

I stiffened.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I focused on my food.

“Gaea,” he said again, sharper this time. “I asked you.”

I looked up.

The tone made something inside me tighten.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” I lied. “Just eat. You said you were hungry.”

His brows furrowed.

“There’s no ‘we’ between us,” I suddenly said, cutting off whatever was building in the air.

Silence.

Then—

“I know,” he replied, voice quieter now.

“…You really like reminding me of that.”

I frowned.

“Then why do you act like there is?”

“You’re impossible to understand,” I added, frustration slipping through. “And don’t tell me you’re jealous or something, because we literally just met!”

I stood up abruptly—

But he grabbed my wrist.

Firm.

Not painful.

But enough to stop me completely.

“Don’t drag food into your mood,” he said calmly. “Sit.”

Something in his voice made me obey before I could even think.

I sat back down.

Why did he feel so… overwhelming sometimes?

Like I was the one reacting, and he was the one deciding what happens next.

He watched me for a moment.

Then—

“Who are you thinking about?” he asked again, quieter.

My grip tightened on the spoon.

I didn’t want to answer.

Not because I was hiding something from him—

But because I was hiding it from myself.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I finally said.

My voice dropped.

And for the first time, I didn’t need to say the name.

Because he already knew.

“The guy who promised me forever,” I continued, my chest tightening. “The one who said he would marry me… but still left.”

My throat burned.

I forced myself to look at him.

“I don’t want to talk about him because it still hurts when I do.”

Silence filled the room.

Heavy.

But then—

Clyden smiled.

Not mocking.

Not teasing.

Something softer.

Something dangerously gentle.

“Handsome, right?” he said suddenly.

I blinked.

“What?”

“Look at me,” he added casually. “Forget him.”

My lips parted slightly.

“…Are you seriously trying to compete with my ex?”

He leaned closer.

“Not compete,” he said. “Replace.”

My heart skipped.

“You’re insane,” I muttered, shaking my head.

But I still looked at him.

And that was the problem.

He noticed everything.

“That’s better,” he said. “Keep looking at me.”

I reached over and lightly flicked his nose.

“Stop flirting with me, Clyden.”

He leaned back, hands raised in surrender.

“Not flirting,” he said. “Just stating facts.”

I sighed and went back to eating.

But my heart wasn’t calm anymore.

Not even close.

—

He brought me back to my apartment that night.

The city lights were dim, the streets quieter than usual.

I stepped out of the car, adjusting my bag—

And then I saw him.

Russu.

Standing not far from my building.

Wearing the leather jacket I had given him.

My chest tightened instantly.

I didn’t even realize I was smiling until I started walking toward him.

“Russu?” I called softly. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t look at me at first.

Then—

He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Gaea,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His voice.

That familiar voice.

The one I used to trust completely.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up.

But something felt different now.

Faint.

Distant.

Like I was remembering instead of feeling.

“Gaea!”

I turned.

Clyden.

He was walking toward us, expression dark.

Cold.

Dangerous.

“Who is he?” Russu asked immediately, tightening his hold on me.

Before I could answer—

Clyden spoke.

Slow.

Sharp.

“I should be the one asking that.”

Then he looked at me.

And everything else disappeared.

“Why is he holding what’s mine?”

My breath hitched.

“What?” Russu frowned. “Who are you?”

Clyden stepped closer.

No hesitation.

No fear.

“I’m the one who should be asking that,” he said. “Why are you touching my woman?”

My eyes widened.

“Clyden—wait—”

But it was too late.

Clyden moved fast.

And punched him.

The sound was sharp.

Final.

I gasped.

“Don’t play with her heart,” Clyden said coldly. “She’s not yours anymore.”

Then he turned to me.

And for a moment—

Everything softened.

Not his voice.

But his gaze.

“You’re not a toy,” he said. “You don’t get to be thrown away and picked up whenever someone feels like it.”

My chest tightened.

“I don’t care what your past is,” he added quietly. “But don’t go back to something that broke you.”

Silence.

Then he reached out his hand.

“Come here.”

I hesitated.

Then slowly—

I took it.

And he pulled me away.

Leaving Russu behind.

But as I followed him, one thought echoed in my mind again.

Louder than before.

I came here to finish a story…

So why does it feel like the story is now choosing me?