Chapter 24. Observations Helps You Grow

Bliss

“Rest. Heal. And maybe… train.”

“Train?”

“You’ve got something inside you, Bliss. Something rare. You might not want it, but it’s rare. You might as well learn how to use it before someone else tries to use it again, you.”

I swallowed, “You mean Liam.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

 We both knew it.

Eventually he stood and held it in his hand. “Come on, it’s cold.“

I hesitated… then took it.

His hand was warm. Steady. 

Alive 

And so was I. For now that would have to be enough.

I used to think closeness meant danger.

The way Liam would corner me with sweet words and poisonous touches.

The way his silence felt like a trap.

The way power always came with a price.

But Kharo didn’t move like that.

He never asked for anything. Never reached for me unless I did first. He was a fortress—solid, still, and terrifying in all the right ways. 

And for the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like I needed to keep running.

Not when he was around.

We didn’t talk much after the night in the grove.

But something in me had changed.

I felt it in the way his gaze lingered longer during breakfast. In the way his voice softened when he gave commands I usually ignored.

On the way he walked a little closer when we were training.

He still didn’t touch me.

He didn’t have to.

Because of his presence, it settled something in me.

Something I’d never realised was constantly trembling.

It hit me during sparring, of all things.

Kharo had paired me with Sayeed again—one of the mid-ranked guards with sharp elbows and a mouth never shut.

I hated him, which Kharo probably knew.

Maybe it was part of the training. Push me until I snapped.

Except I didn’t snap.

I moved fast, ducked low, and shoved Sayeed on his ass in less than two minutes.

“Again,” Kharo said from the edge of the mat.

I caught his expression—the subtle raise of his brows, the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Pride.

Not the arrogant kind. The quiet kind. Like I’d done something worth noticing. 

And that look, it melted something inside me.

I stood there in the middle of the mat, chest rising, heartbeat thundering for all the wrong reasons.

Because suddenly it wasn’t just adrenaline.

I wanted him to look at me like that again.

I didn’t say anything for the rest of the training. I sent through the drills, followed the form, and pretended like I wasn’t watching him from the corner of my eye the entire time.

He didn’t watch me like a general. He watched me like he saw me.

Like a woman.

Every flinch, every spark, every piece of myself I thought I had buried.

It wasn’t romantic. 

It was worse.

It was real.

I lingered after training, waiting until the others cleared out. He was checking a clipboard—notes, maybe evaluations.

He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“You let your guard drop when you pivot now.”

I crossed my arms. “Thanks for the feedback.”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised. “It wasn’t criticism, just observation.”

“Same thing”

“No.” He said setting the clipboard down “criticism meant to tear you down. Observation helps you grow.”

My breath hitched.

There it was again—that way he talked to me, like I wasn’t fragile.

Like I was capable, like I was still whole, even when I didn’t feel it.

He started to turn away, but I stopped him. “Kharo.”

He paused. 

I hesitated, the words thick in my throat. “Why do you do it?”

He looked at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do what?”

“This.” I said. “Train me. Protect me. Give me space. You don’t owe me anything.”

His gaze softened. “Don’t I?”

I blinked. “No. You didn’t ask for any of this; you didn’t choose me.”

He stepped closer—not touching, just close. The gap between us is a breath. “Maybe I didn’t choose this. But I am choosing you. Every day.”

My heart jumped. 

I didn’t know what to say.

So I didn’t.

Later that night, I found myself back in my room, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. My mind kept circling the way he looked at me.

The way he said my name, the way he stood still when I was spiralling.

I wasn’t used to stillness. I was used to people towards me with teeth bared and fake smiles. Was used to lie wrapped in charms.

But Kharo didn’t lie.

He just watched and waited.

And now… he was waiting for me to catch up.

I turned over, annoyed at myself for how warm my cheek felt.

Was I seriously blushing?

Goodness. This was ridiculous.

I threw off the cover and padded into the bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie—my cheeks were pink, my hair was a mess, and my eyes were still haunted. But there was something else in them too.

Something soft

Something… curious

Did I like him?

No. I respected him. Admired him, maybe. Trusted him.

That was all. 

Right?

The next morning I caught him in the kitchen alone.