CHAPTER 6: HOW I FELL FOR HER

Andrel POV:

I still remember the exact day.

It was two weeks after her 18th birthday. I had come to their house to see her father, my best friend. He was running late, so I waited in the living room with a glass of water in my hand, scrolling through emails I wasn't really reading.

Then the front door opened.

Mila walked in from school. Her school bag was hanging heavy on her shoulder, her hair a little messy from the day. She looked tired. Her eyes were down, lost in thought, and there was a quiet sadness in them.

But even tired, she was beautiful. In a pure, innocent way that made the whole room feel softer.

Then she looked up and saw me.

In an instant, her tired face changed. She smiled. It wasn't a loud smile, it was small, shy, just with her eyes and lips. She greeted me, "Uncle Andrel."

Something in my chest shifted. It was a strange, warm connection I couldn't explain. Like my heart recognized her before my mind could.

I panicked. I forced a smile back, said a quick hello, and left their house earlier than I planned.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Her eyes kept coming back to me. That small smile. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself, you are 32 she is your best friends daughter. She is your ex's daughter. have you lost your mind? What if the tragedy repeats itself? What will her parents think of you?

To punish myself, I stopped going to their house. For weeks. I even booked a trip and went on vacation, telling everyone I needed a break from work. The truth was, I needed a break from Mila.

But distance didn't help. If anything, it made it worse. Every quiet moment on that beach, I thought of her. Her laugh from the kitchen. The way she says my name.

Slowly, painfully, I admitted it to myself.

I had fallen for Mila. For 18-year-old Mila.

When I came back, I couldn't stay away anymore. I started going to their house frequently again. Any excuse ,business with her dad, dropping off files, Sunday lunch. Just to get a glimpse of her.

And the more I saw her, the deeper I fell. I learned all her little habits. How she bites her lip when she is nervous. How she laughs and covers her mouth. How she reads a book and tucks her hair behind her ear every two minutes. To me, everything she did was beautiful.

Then I started noticing something that terrified me more than my own feelings.

Her eyes.

She no longer looked at me like I was her uncle. When I entered a room, she would look up quickly, then look away, then look again. She would smile to herself. Sometimes she would peep at me from behind her bedroom door, thinking I didn't see her. Sometimes she would stay hidden in her room the whole time I was there, and I knew it was because she was shy.

But she always came out before I left.

I wanted her, yes. But more than that, I wanted to protect her. So I did nothing. For almost two years, I was content with just seeing her, just being near her. I never crossed a line. I didn't dare dream of going after her.

Until her 20th birthday party.

That night, she came downstairs in a red floral gown. Her long hair dropped to her waist. She wasn't trying to be beautiful, she just was. Mature, graceful, glowing.

When she laughed with her friends, my heart was aching. I realized I had spent two years loving her from a distance, and I couldn't do it anymore. My heart was too full.

Later, I saw her walking alone to the quiet hallway at the side of the house. Her smile was gone. She looked sad again, just like that first day when she came back from school tired, with her eyes down. That sad look that first made me fall for her.

Without thinking, I followed her.

The hallway was dim and quiet, away from the music of the party. When I came close to her, all the feelings I had locked up for two years rushed up at once. My hand reached out to her back

But she flinched and stopped me.

Her voice was shaking when she whispered, "Uncle don't

First time being this close to you . First time feeling this.

And in that second, the guilt crushed me.

What was I doing? What would she think of me? What would her father, my best friend, think of me?

I am 34. She is 20. I am supposed to be her protector, not the reason she is shaking.

So I let her go.

I stepped back. My hands were trembling.

"I need air," I told her, my voice hoarse.

And I left her there in the hallway. Alone.

I walked out into the cold night, angry at myself, guilty, and more in love with her than ever before