Lahat ng Kabanata ng Accidentally His.: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 36

The drizzle had picked up just enough to mist the air, beading on Drake’s hair as he stepped toward the door. He had decided, quietly and firmly, that he should leave. Miguel had asked him to, and there was no point in staying where he wasn’t wanted.The door opened, and the cool evening air rushed in. Drake didn’t bother to pull up his hood. The soft patter of rain against the pavement was strangely calming, even as the air clung cold against his skin. Without looking back, he stepped out of the apartment, his shoes carrying him toward the gate.From the doorway, Miguel’s gaze followed him like a shadow that refused to detach. His chest felt tight, not from the chill, but from the guilt gnawing at him, a relentless, bitter taste of the past. Every step Drake took away from him seemed to echo against the walls of his memory, dragging with it all the moments he wished he could rewrite.He wanted to run after him, to grab his arm and spill out everything, the truth about his parents mur

They slipped out of the noisy circle together, finding a quieter spot near the edge of the terrace. The city lights spilled in behind her as they talked, their conversation starting light. From family ties, old events, and passing jokes, but soon their words took on a different weight. It was then filled with flirtatious contents.Soon, she was pulling his hair. Both lips locked in a provocative kiss.Miguel’s lips lingered on hers, the kiss deep enough to draw a flush across her cheeks and a low whistle from someone watching nearby. Then a pointed cough cut through the moment.Miguel broke the kiss, with furrowed brows, his gaze snapping toward the sound. A guard stood a few feet away, rigid in posture, though his eyes betrayed the discomfort of having walked in on the scene.Miguel’s voice sharpened, low and edged.“What do you want?”The guard’s throat bobbed as he straightened further. “Your father… he requests your presence.”For a beat, silence hung between them, Miguel’s anger

He flinched back, pulse surging, braced for the worst, for the shadow that haunted his dreams to step through at last. Instead, a familiar reek of alcohol rushed in before the man himself. “Drake!” his uncle’s voice thundered, slurred yet vicious. His eyes were bloodshot, his figure swaying unsteadily as he filled the doorway like some looming wraith. “Evil child… I should’ve known. You think I can die of the cold outside? You can’t kill me the way you killed your parents!” The words lashed like knives, sharp and cruel, dragging old wounds wide open. Drake froze, staring at him, the accusation coiling through the silence. And yet, against all expectation, his chest loosened with a raw, shaky exhale. His uncle’s presence, though pathetic, staggering, and loud, wasn’t an intruder. It wasn’t the masked man from his nightmares. Relief washed over him, strange and bitter, clashing with the insult. At least it wasn’t someone come to finish the job. At least it wasn’t real death wai