sleepless and broken

Episode 6

Scout's pov

Sprawled across the bed in her wedding dress, mascara smudged, hair a mess. The earlier drama had settled into silence, leaving only slow breaths and the weight of the moment.

I stood in the doorway, staring at her.

What the hell was I supposed to do with this?

With her?

The woman who had spent the entire evening fighting me, spitting venom with every word, standing tall even when it was clear she had nowhere left to go. The woman who, despite everything, refused to be broken. And yet, she has become silent and fragile, a sharp difference from the drame she had caused during the ceremony.

I should have been relieved.

I wasn’t.

Sighing, I pressed the intercom. "Rosie."

“Yes, sir?” Her voice crackled through the speaker, steady as ever.

“Come to the master suite.”

Minutes later, Rosie appeared at the doorway. Her sharp eyes flicked from me to Bella. She didn’t need an explanation. Rosie had been with me long enough to understand things I didn’t have the words for.

“What happened?” Her voice was softer than usual.

“She drank too much,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Can you—” I gestured toward Bella, unsure how to even phrase what I needed her to do.

Rosie’s lips pressed into a thin line—not judgmental, just knowing.

“I’ll take care of her,” she said, moving toward the bed. “You should rest.”

She had always been a mother figure to me, and tomorrow, she was leaving temporarily to visit her family. She had stayed long enough, always looking after things that weren’t her responsibility. I owed her more than I could say.

I turned and walked out, shutting the door behind me. But I couldn’t get today out of my head. How she had nearly ruined the wedding. How she had stood there in front of everyone, defiant, refusing to be tamed.

This wasn’t just some rebellious bride throwing a tantrum. She was more than that. Messier than that.

For the first time since this entire arrangement had been set in motion, I wondered if I had underestimated what I was dealing with.

I poured myself a drink, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass, but didn’t take a sip. My mind was in chaos.

I wasn’t used to this feeling.

Frustration,curiosity.

I didn’t like it.

Bella was supposed to be a problem I solved, not a mystery that kept me up at night. She was supposed to fight me, resist me. That was the game, wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel like I was losing control of the pieces?

Before I could think better of it, I was heading back to the master suite.

The room was dim. Rosie had turned on the bedside lamp and left quietly.

But the bed was empty.

For a second, my stomach clenched. Where had she gone?

Then I heard movement.

She was in the corner, pacing.

Her arms were wrapped around herself, her head bumping lightly against the wall. Over and over. Like she was trying to ground herself or disappear.

Soft sounds filled the air.

She was crying.

I didn’t say anything right away. I just watched. Had she woken up? Or was she sleepwalking?

The way her fingers curled into her arms, like she was holding herself together. The way her shoulders shook, her breathing slow and uneven.

She looked lost. And despite everything, despite how much trouble she had caused me today, something in me twisted.

“Bella.”

She didn’t hear me. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care.

She turned, but her steps were clumsy and unsteady.

That was when I knew she was sleep walking ,her eyes were opened as if she knew exactly what she was doing

When she stumbled, I caught her without thinking.

She flinched at first. Then she just… stayed.

Pressed against me, shaking.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

She wasn’t fighting me now. No sharp words, no glare. Just exhaustion.

I guided her back to the bed and eased her down. She was still trembling. Still lost somewhere in her head.

I should have left then.

I didn’t.

Instead, I sat beside her, watching the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

“Bella,” I tried again, softer this time.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. She looked at me like she wasn’t sure if I was real or just another part of the nightmare.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

The words should have made me angry.

But they weren’t. Not this time.

Because she didn’t say them like a warrior preparing for battle.

She said them like a woman who was breaking.

I swallowed hard, running a hand through my hair. “I know.”

Silence stretched between us. Heavy and unbearable.

And then, in a voice so quiet, I almost didn’t catch it—

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Something cracked in my chest.

She wasn’t asking for comfort. She wasn’t asking for kindness. She was asking for anything but the loneliness that had settled around her like a second skin.

I didn’t answer. I just lay down beside her, pulling the covers over us.

She stirred slightly, her body pressing against mine.

I should have kept my distance and reminded myself that she was just another piece in a larger game because this isn't real ,she will wake up the next day and not remember anything.

But in that moment, with her curled beside me, fragile in a way I’d never seen before, the game didn’t feel as important.

I closed my eyes, the image of her tear-streaked face etched in my mind.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Every time she shifted, every small sound she made, I found myself aware of her presence. At some point, she whispered something under her breath,words I couldn’t quite catch, murmured in a way that made it clear she was lost in dreams, or maybe memories.

And for the first time, I wondered what those memories were.

What had turned the fiery, defiant woman into someone who could stand tall in front of hundreds of people but break so quietly when she thought no one was watching?

I didn’t know.

But I was starting to realize that I wanted to find out.