Chapter. 11

{Third person's pov}

Arizona was inside the wardrobe trying to change her wedding dress but she couldn't open the strings of her corset.

She sighed when she failed once again in opening the string, Slowly she turned around and made her way towards the room.

"Um... can you help me with this?" She asked as she spotted Everett sitting on the couch and doing something on his laptop.

Everett didn’t look up immediately. His fingers paused on the keyboard for just a second, enough to register her voice, her hesitation.

Then he closed the laptop. Slowly. Deliberately.

When he looked up, his gaze went to her… then to the back of her dress where the corset strings were tied.

A brief silence.

Not awkward, measured. He stood up, setting the laptop aside, and walked toward her without a word. His steps were calm, unhurried… but there was a certain awareness in the way he stopped behind her, leaving just enough space.

“Turn around,” he said quietly. Not cold. Just direct.

Once she did, his hands hovered near the strings for a second, like he was making sure she was certain about this.

Then, carefully, he started loosening them. No sudden movements. No unnecessary touch. Just precise, controlled motions as the tight lacing began to give way.

“You tied this too tight,” he remarked, tone low, almost distracted. “You wouldn’t have been able to open it yourself.”

The fabric loosened gradually, giving her room to breathe. His fingers brushed lightly against her back once, accidental, brief but he immediately adjusted, keeping a respectful distance.

A pause. Then, softer... “Next time,” he added, almost under his breath, “ask sooner.”

The last knot loosened. He stepped back instantly. “It’s done.”

She held the dress near her breast in order to prevent it from falling, "Thankyou," She whispered and looked at him.

Everett’s eyes lifted to hers for a brief moment—then just as quickly, he looked away. Not out of disinterest… but restraint.

He picked up his laptop again, more as a way to give her space than out of urgency. “Get changed properly,” he said, tone even. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, “I’ll be here.”

He didn’t move toward the wardrobe, didn’t turn his back completely either, just angled himself slightly away, creating a quiet boundary without making it obvious.

His fingers tapped lightly on the laptop, but his focus wasn’t really on the screen anymore.

After a second, he spoke again, voice lower this time.

“You don’t have to thank me every time.” A beat.

“It’s… unnecessary.”

But the way he said it wasn’t dismissive. It sounded more like, he wasn’t used to being thanked at all.

She nodded and walked inside the wardrobe, After a while she came back dressed in a pajama and top.

She looked at him and he was settled on the couch, "Um are you going to sleep on that?" She asked.

"Yeah, You can be comfortable on the bed." Everett said and Arizona bit her lips, "Umm... we can share the bed, it's big enough for two people... isn't it?"

"It is but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, Arizona." He said and she shook her head, "It won't make me uncomfortable."

Everett went still for a moment. Not visibly... but the kind of stillness that came from thinking too fast, weighing too many things at once.

His eyes lifted from the screen to her. “You’re sure?” he asked, voice quieter now. Not challenging, confirming.

A beat.

Because this wasn’t just about space. It was about boundaries. Trust. Timing.

When she didn’t take it back, he closed the laptop again, slower this time. “Fine,” he said, standing up.

But even then, he didn’t walk straight to the bed. He moved with that same controlled distance, stopping at the edge instead of immediately getting in.

“You take that side,” he gestured, keeping it practical. “I won’t cross over.”

No teasing. No hidden meaning. Just… clarity.

He slipped off his watch, placed it on the side table, then lay down on the far edge of the bed, on top of the covers at first, like he wasn’t fully committing to it.

A deliberate gap between them. Silence settled in the room. Not heavy… just unfamiliar.

After a moment, he spoke again, staring at the ceiling.

“If at any point you feel uncomfortable,” he said, voice calm, steady, “you say it. I’ll move.”

A pause.

Then, softer, “I meant what I said earlier.” That she wasn’t alone. He didn’t look at her. But he didn’t move away either.

She took the other side and nodded, She settled on the bed and turned her back towards him.