Selena’s P. O. V.
As I collapse onto the sleeping bag, I press my fists against my ears, trying to block out the sound of my own heart pounding, trying to convince myself that I did the right thing. I can’t let him get close to me. Not now, never.
I hear Mr Luther’s footsteps from outside and then his deep voice. “Selena. Let me in.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring him.
“There’s a vacant tent nearby, Mr. Luther. You can sleep there.” I respond, feeling a deep ache in my chest. All I want right now is to sleep in his warm arms like last night, but I can’t-and it hurts so much.
Silence.
I imagine him standing there, probably running his hand through his hair in frustration. I bite my lip, not ready to change my mind.
“Selena, please,” he requests, making my chest even more heavy with pain. I know I’m not doing right with him, but I’ve no other choice.
“I need space.” As I force myself to say these words, fresh tears trickle down my cheeks.
I need him. But how can I say this?
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a firm tone.
I press my fingers to my temples. Why is he so stubborn?
“Mr Luther, just go!” I snap, louder this time.
“No,” he replies, his tone grim.
Oh God, I have to let him in because it seems he won’t give up, and I don’t want him to spend the entire night outside in the cold.
I can’t be so cruel.
After sighing, I stand up and unzip the flap just enough to peek out. He’s standing there, arms crossed, his jaw tight. The cold wind brushes against his face, but he doesn’t bother with it.
I open the zipper completely. “You’re impossible.”
He doesn’t say a word as he steps inside. I grab a pillow and place it between us as a barrier. “Stay on your side. We’re just sleeping.”
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue, but he just nods. “Fine.”
I lie down on my side, facing away from him, and close my eyes, hoping sleep will come quickly. I hear him settle down on the other side of the pillow. There is a complete silence between us.
My body is stiff, and I can feel his warmth, even though we’re not touching. His breaths are steady but shallow, as though he’s fighting just as hard as I am to keep control.
Hours pass-or maybe it’s just minutes. I don’t know anymore. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I drift off to sleep, hoping for a miracle to happen that I don’t have to push him away from me.
***
James’s P. O. V.
I lie there, staring at the fabric of the tent ceiling, listening to her soft breaths as she falls asleep. She’s so close, yet so far, separated by the damn pillow she placed between us.
I’m longing to hold her close to me like last night. My fingers itch to feel her soft skin. Fuck! Why is it so hard to resist her?
This woman drives me insane.
I lean closer and inhale the fragrance of her hair. It’s intoxicating, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything else. The scent of her hair is becoming my addiction.
But then I pull back, clenching my fists. She needs space. She’s asked for it, and I have to respect that. I can’t force it to be mine.
I close my eyes, trying to sleep, though every fibre of my being aches to hold her, to feel her close.
Fuck! I can’t sleep.
So, I open my eyes and watch her like the stars we admired earlier. They shine bright, lighting up the dark, just like she does in my life.
And even though she’s asleep, her presence soothes me in a way nothing else ever has. For now, this is enough. It has to be.
And, I can only hope that one day she’ll let me in-not just into her tent, but into the guarded corners of her heart.
***
The next day, we’re returning from the trip, and as I expected, Selena doesn’t sit with me on the bus. She chooses a seat by the window with another student, avoiding me completely. I sit in the back seat, trying to focus on anything else-my phone, the passing scenery-but I can’t stop thinking about her.
She’s keeping her distance, and it’s driving me mad. After everything we shared-after the way she fit perfectly in my arms just two nights ago-she’s shutting me out.
Fuck! I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have expressed my feelings to her so soon. It’s my fault that she’s pushing me away now. I’m so damn angry with myself-I messed everything up.
As I can’t take it anymore, I pull out my phone and send a text to her.
Me: Please don’t do that.
After a few seconds only, my phone vibrates with her reply.
Selena: Do what?
I clench my jaw before replying to her.
Me: I can feel it, Selena. You’re keeping your distance from me.
It takes a moment before she texts me back.
Selena: It’s for the best. For both of us.
I stare at her text, feeling a pang in my heart. She’s sitting just a few rows ahead, yet she feels miles away.
Me: I don’t like it.
The reply comes quickly this time.
Selena: In the end, this is how it’s going to be. So it’s better if we start maintaining boundaries now and avoid getting too attached.
Too late for that, Selena. I didn’t want to, but I’ve already gotten attached to you. And it isn’t something I can switch off.
However, I can’t force her. I have to give her space and time.
Me: Fine.
I don’t send another message, and neither does she.
I spend the entire way staring at the photos of her that I secretly clicked during the trip. Each one of them captures her beauty in a way that feels almost unreal. The way her eyes light up when she’s genuinely happy is mesmerising.
There’s one picture of her standing by the waterfall, her hair damp, and she is laughing. I can almost hear that sound now. How can someone be so effortlessly captivating?
***
Next Morning
I sit in the dining hall, my eyes glued to the staircase, waiting for her to come downstairs. She doesn’t show. My coffee grows cold, untouched as the minutes tick by.
Does she think avoiding me entirely is the solution?
But she has college today. She should have come for the breakfast by now. Selena never gets late for college. She is punctual.
Why do I feel like something is wrong? Is she alright?
As this thought enters my mind, I immediately rise from my chair and rush to her room.
“Selena?” I call out, knocking on the door.
But get no answer.
My heart races with worry as I knock louder. “Selena.”
I just hope she is alright.
“Selena, if you don’t answer, I’m coming in,” I warn, giving her one last chance.
Shit! Still, I don’t get a response.
Without wasting another second, I order a servant to bring the spare key to her room. The key I swore I’d never use unless absolutely necessary.
When the servant returns with the key, I immediately unlock the door and push it open.
The room is quiet, the curtains drawn. My eyes immediately land on her. She is curled up in bed, the blankets pulled tight around her.
“Selena?” I approach, calling her.
At first, it looks like she’s just asleep, but as I get closer, I notice how pale she looks, which makes me even more anxious.
I kneel beside the bed, so damn worried about her, praying that she’s fine and just in a deep sleep.