Chapter 4: The Morning After

Aksh gripped the sides of the wash basin, his reflection glaring back at him. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

Last night was replayed in his head like a cruel joke. Her breathless gasps. Her trembling under his touch. The way she had clung to him, opened for him.

His throat tightened. Anger surged hot in his veins.

> “This is her fault.”

“She acts so innocent, but she isn’t.”

“She’s just a bitch pretending to be pure.”

The words echoed in his mind, harsh, bitter, meant to shield him from the truth—that he had lost control. That she had broken through the walls he never let anyone touch.

He spat into the sink, splashed water on his face, and glared harder at his reflection.

In the room, Gia stirred awake slowly, unaware of the storm raging inside him. Her eyes fluttered open, the morning light soft on her face. She stretched like a sleepy child, her lips parting in a quiet yawn.

She looked… innocent. Too innocent.

The complete opposite of what he was trying to believe.

When he walked back into the room, his steps were heavy and controlled. He stopped at her bedside, staring down at her. For a heartbeat, he wanted to grab her, demand answers, accuse her.

Instead, his hand moved on its own—brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

She sighed softly, leaning unconsciously into his touch.

Something inside him cracked. But the moment her eyes opened, catching him in that softness, he snapped back. His lips pressed into a scowl, his eyes hard.

Gia blinked up at him, confused, almost guilty. Realizing she had been curled against him, she quickly sat up, muttering, “Sorry…”

He turned away without a word, fury tightening his shoulders as he grabbed his toothbrush and stalked back to the washroom.

His reflection this time looked harsher. He wanted to believe the lie—that she wasn’t what she seemed. That she had played him. That she deserved his anger.

But the memory of her wide, trusting eyes when she looked at him last night wouldn’t leave.

He slammed his palm against the basin, muttering under his breath.

> “Damn you, Gia.”

When he returned, she had bundled herself in the blanket again, lips parted in sleep, looking frustratingly innocent.

Gia rubbed her eyes sleepily, curling deeper into the blanket when Aksh ordered her to wake up.

“No…” she mumbled, voice muffled.

His jaw tightened. He yanked the blanket off, ignoring her whine. “Get up.”

She pouted, hair sticking out in messy strands. “You’re so mean…”

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the washroom. She stumbled after him, too sleepy to resist.

Once inside, she leaned against the wall, yawning like a child. “I don’t wanna…”

Aksh sighed through his nose, irritation burning in his chest. Why does she act like this? Like she’s innocent? She’s not. She can’t be.

And yet… his hand moved on its own. He squeezed toothpaste onto her brush, held it up in front of her.

“Open your mouth,” he said flatly.

He guided the brush into her mouth, his hand steady, his expression unreadable. She obeyed, cheeks puffed, eyes shining with amusement as he carefully brushed for her. It was ridiculous. Intimate. Domestic.

When he finished, he held out a glass of water. She swished it, spitting into the basin, then grinned at him with foam still clinging to her lip.

Aksh froze. Something inside him twisted. He quickly wiped her lip with his thumb before she could react, his touch rougher than necessary.

“Done,” he said sharply, shoving the brush back into place.

“Bossy,” she teased under her breath, following him out like an obedient shadow.

At breakfast, he placed a plate in front of her first before sitting across from her.

Gia sat with arms crossed, lips pouted, glaring at him with sleepy defiance. Her eyes narrowed, cheeks puffed—silent fury for being dragged out of bed.

Aksh met her stare, his face hard.

She stabbed at her food, chewing with exaggerated annoyance, never breaking eye contact.

His mouth twitched. For a second, the corners of his lips almost lifted. He looked away quickly, covering the slip with a hand against his mouth, shoulders tight with restraint.

But when his eyes flicked back, she was still glaring, chewing angrily, her face glowing with childlike stubbornness.

Something in him cracked. Not enough to laugh, not enough to soften out loud—but enough that he couldn’t look at her without fighting it.

So he dropped his gaze to his plate, masking everything behind silence.

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