บททั้งหมดของ My Bestfriend’s Brother : บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

Zayne POVI didn't make it home, I tell myself I will.I even get into the car, start the engine, pull out into traffic—but somewhere between the first turn and the second, I know I’m not going anywhere that requires me to pretend I’m fine.So I circle back. Park, kill the engine and sit.Hands resting on the steering wheel, fingers tight, breath too shallow for the silence that surrounds me. There’s a pressure building again, not the distant kind. Or the kind I can push aside with work, distraction or routine.This one is immediate, like something is knocking from the inside, demanding to be let through. I close my eyes.“Not here,” I mutter under my breath.But it doesn’t listen, it never does. It doesn’t care about timing or setting or whether I’m ready. It just comes at me hard. —Sound first, a sharp noise, door slamming open. The memory snaps into place so suddenly it makes my chest jerk. My hand tightens on the wheel, and then, I’m not in the car anymore.—A hallway, narrow,

Isla’s POV Three days, that’s how long I stayed gone. No calls, no messages, no explanations, just silence.Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much. And because everything I learned felt too heavy to bring back into the same space where I was supposed to breathe, laugh, love… live.So I ran, not physically far, but far enough. A quiet hotel, no name attached, cash payment, curtains always drawn. Just me and the truth, and for three days, I let it settle.Let it hurt, let it strip everything away until all that was left was what mattered. Zayne.—The moment I turn my phone back on, it vibrates nonstop like it’s been waiting for me. Message after message flooding in. Missed calls stacked on top of each other. Notifications that don’t stop.My chest tightens as I stare at the screen. Because I already know. I already know whose messages I’m going to open first, but I don’t. I scroll.My mom.Deadbeat (Celeste): Isla, please call me. I know you saw something. You don

Isla POVThe first thing I notice is the peace. The kind that wraps around you instead of suffocating you, the kind that lets you rest.I wake up slowly, my cheek pressed against something warm—solid—and familiar.Zayne.My fingers curl slightly where they’re resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath my palm. There’s no panic in my body, it feels strange, new even.But not wrong.I tilt my head slightly, looking up at him. He’s already awake. His eyes are on me, quiet, observant, like they’ve been there for a while.“You stare a lot,” I murmur, voice still thick with sleep.His mouth tilts slightly. “You moved throughout your sleep, baby.”“That’s not the same thing.”“You stole the blanket, literally.”I narrow my eyes. “You literally sleep like a human furnace.”“That’s not my fault.”“It is when you trap me in it.”A quiet huff leaves him—almost a laugh—and something warm settles in my chest. This….this is what normal life feels like.His hand moves absently

Isla POVI woke up slowly, the way you do when your body’s already decided the day is starting whether your brain’s on board or not. No alarm, no sudden jolt, just this gentle pull toward consciousness, like someone had turned the volume up on the world a few notches. My eyes fluttered open to soft gray light filtering through the half-closed blinds. The apartment smelled like the leftover takeout we’d forgotten on the counter last night and the faint trace of Zayne’s cologne still clinging to the sheets. I lay there for a second, letting my senses catch up, feeling the familiar dip of the mattress beside me.Zayne was still asleep, face relaxed in a way that always caught me off guard. One arm was flung across my waist, heavy and warm, his fingers loosely curled against my hip like even unconscious he was making sure I stayed put. His breathing was deep and even, chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm I’d memorized over the last few months. The tension that used to live in

Isla POVThe morning after I found out about the baby, the apartment felt different, lighter, somehow, like the walls themselves were holding their breath along with me. Zayne hadn’t stopped touching me. Not in the obvious way, but little things: his hand brushing my lower back when I reached for coffee, fingers lingering on my stomach when he thought I wasn’t looking. We’d spent half the night tangled up talking about due dates and names and how we were going to turn the spare rooms in his penthouse into something soft and safe. By the time the sun climbed high enough to spill across the kitchen table, he’d made up his mind.“We’re telling my parents today,” he said, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. His voice had that quiet certainty he got when he’d already decided something big. “Not about the baby yet. First I want to tell them I’m marrying you. Then we’ll drop the rest.”I looked up at him, fork paused halfway to my mouth. “Today? Like, right now today?”He l