MasukShen POVThe rain hits hard the moment I start running, cold, sharp, relentless. My shoes slam against the wet ground, slipping slightly with every step, but I don't slow down. I told him five minutes, and Avelin is waiting. Father needs the medicine. Nothing else matters right now.The world has turned into a blurred landscape of grey and black. The familiar paths of Cliffhaven, which usually feel so welcoming, are now treacherous under the weight of the storm. My breath tears out of my throat in ragged bursts, nearly swallowed by the howling gale. Every muscle in my legs screams from the effort, but the image of Father collapsed on the floor, and the look of sheer terror frozen on Avelin's face acts like a lash across my back, driving me forward. Salt from the sea spray mixes with the rain and stings my eyes, but I push through. The small bottle of pills sits heavy in my pocket, a tiny object carrying the full weight of a man's life.The storm grows louder around me. Thunder cracks
Avelin POVEverything becomes noise. Then nothing. Then chaos.“Father!” My voice breaks as I drop to my knees beside him. He’s on the floor, not sitting, not resting, collapsed. His hand claws at his chest as if something inside him is trying to tear its way out. His breathing feels wrong, too fast, too shallow, like he’s drowning without water.The sound of his struggle fills the small room, a wet, jagged rasp that tears through the inn's silence. I can see the frantic pulse in his neck, the skin there grey and slick with cold sweat. It feels as if the very air has been sucked out of the hallway, leaving me lightheaded and trembling. I reach for him, my hands hovering for a second because he looks so fragile, so unlike the man who raised me. The strength that once defined his every move has vanished, replaced by a terrifying, animalistic fight for air.“Stay with me,” I whisper, gripping his hand. It’s cold.“No, no, no—this isn’t happening.” I try to remember. First aid, breathing
Shen POV(Flashback before the Collapse)I wake up before the sun. For a moment, I don’t move. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant ocean, the quiet hum of the inn before it wakes, and the soft, steady breathing beside me. Avelin. He’s curled into me, his head resting on my chest, one arm draped across my waist as if it belongs there, as if I belong here. My hand is already in his hair. I don’t remember putting it there, but I don’t move it. I never do. This feels like something I should hold on to, like something important, as I might lose it. I close my eyes briefly, then open them again and simply watch him.He stirs slowly, then opens his eyes. The moment he sees me, he smiles, soft, warm, real.“Morning,” he murmurs.“Morning, baby,” I reply quietly. His fingers tighten slightly in my shirt.“You’re staring again.”“Can’t help it.”He huffs softly but doesn’t look away. We don’t get up right away; we never do. Later, I bring up coffee, two cups, simple,
Avelin POVIt starts small, so small I almost miss it. Father pauses halfway up the stairs one morning, just for a second, one hand gripping the railing tighter than usual, his breath slightly uneven.“Father?” I ask, frowning.He waves it off immediately. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just tired.”I don’t believe him, not completely, but I let it go because he has always been strong, always steady, the kind of man who doesn’t break. But then it happens again, and again. By evening, he is sitting more often, resting longer, his shoulders heavier, his movements slower. Still controlled. Still proud. But different.“Something’s wrong,” I tell Shen quietly one night. We’re in the kitchen, cleaning after dinner. Father has already gone to bed too early.Shen doesn’t answer right away. He watches the doorway, then looks back at me. “I know,” he says. That simple, that certain.The next morning, Shen doesn’t give him a choice. “You’re seeing Dr. Len,” he says firmly.Father frowns. “I said I’m fine
Shen POVThat night, we move more slowly, more aware, as if time itself matters. Every second feels precious. I hold him close, my hand sliding along his back, grounding myself in something real, something I can keep. Outside our window, the crashing waves and whispering winds serve as a backdrop, but inside this room, the air is thick with a heavy, sweet melancholy. I trace the line of his spine with agonizing slowness, committing the feel of his skin to memory. I am terrified of losing. It feels as though we are trying to condense an entire lifetime of devotion into a single night, pouring every unspoken promise and every ounce of our shared souls into the quiet space between us. I pull him flush against me, needing to feel the physical proof that he is here, that he is real, and that he is mine for as long as the universe will allow. “You’re mine,” I murmur against his skin. Not ownership, not control, just truth, just bond. His breath catches slightly. “I know.” And the way
Shen POV A year begins without me noticing, and somehow I find myself wishing it would never end. The seasons change quietly, summer fading into gold and amber, leaves gathering along the paths near the inn. The air cools, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of salt and woodsmoke. Then winter arrives, bringing cold mornings and warm fires. Avelin is wrapped in soft layers, cheeks flushed pink from the chill. I learn the rhythm of it, the way he warms his hands around a cup before speaking, the way he leans closer to me without thinking. I find myself mesmerized by the simple beauty of his existence in the dead of winter. Watching him pull an oversized knit sweater over his frame, his breath forming small white clouds in the freezing morning air, fills me with a fierce, protective warmth that defies the cold. I learn to anticipate his needs before he voices them, stoking the fireplace higher before he enters the room, preparing his tea exactly as he likes it when he wakes. This dom







