That night, when they finally went to bed, it was Axel — uncommonly enough — who couldn't sleep.
He lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughts looping quietly behind his eyelids. Part of it was worry — about the party, about whether Zane and Sunny had managed to hold the place together without anything getting broken or anyone getting hurt. But that wasn't what kept his chest tight.
No, what kept him awake — as always — was the woman lying beside him. Laura, curled up and nestled against his chest, her breath soft against his skin.
She was healing. Slowly, steadily, bravely. And yet, even now, even after everything, she still apologized. Apologized for not being able to stay longer. Apologized for not feeling like she was enough — as if her worth hinged on how long she could survive a crowd that drained her.
They had only stayed two hours at the party. And when she tugged gently on his sleeve, eyes already distant, he hadn't asked a single question. Of course they left.
She came first. Always.
Besides, the party wasn't what either of them had expected. She thought it would be a small get-together — a chill evening with a few familiar faces and soft music in the background. Instead, it was a circus. A flashing, echoing, full-circle spectacle of influential people, business deals happening over cocktails, and eyes that lingered too long.
He was proud of her — not just for lasting those two hours, but for listening to her body when it started saying no. For choosing to leave, even when her own mind whispered she should try harder, stay longer, please more people. He knew how difficult that decision had been for her.
And truthfully, he'd rather they leave early than stay and risk something worse — her passing out again, dissociating, collapsing under the weight of it all.
Or worse… what had almost happened earlier.
That memory hit him like a jolt in the dark: the way those men had sat down beside her when he'd stepped away — just for a minute — to get drinks. One of them had placed a hand on her thigh, far too casually for it to be innocent. By the time Axel returned, Laura was already stiff, eyes unfocused. He'd seen that look before. It made his blood run cold.
She was safe now. She was here, warm and breathing and real beside him. But the fact that she had to go through that — again — gnawed at something deep inside him.
He hadn't said much about it afterward. Didn't want to add guilt to her already heavy heart. But the truth was… he hated himself for stepping away. Even for that moment. He should've known better. Should've stayed by her side — should've protected her, like he promised he would.
He looked down at her now, her brow relaxed in sleep, one hand resting gently over his ribs. And all he could do was hold her closer.
She didn't need to apologize for anything. Not for leaving early. Not for being overwhelmed. Not for needing rest. She had survived the night — and that, to him, was more than enough.
---
That morning, even though Axel had barely slept, he was already up before the light had fully settled in through the windows. His body was tired, but his mind was already set. He wanted to do something for her — not big or flashy, just something quiet. Thoughtful.
Something soft.
She'd had a rough day yesterday, and though she never asked for anything, he knew. He always knew.
So, while the world was still half-asleep, he prepared a small breakfast. Nothing too heavy — he knew she wouldn't eat much anyway. A cup of warm tea, a new blend he found in a little shop she liked but hadn't tried before — something with a floral hint and calming herbs. A bowl of yogurt, lightly drizzled with honey, and a few slices of fresh fruit arranged in a little spiral like he'd seen her do once when she was bored in the kitchen. It wasn't perfect, but he tried.
Then, balancing the tray, he returned to the bedroom where she was still curled beneath the blanket, the soft rise and fall of her breath steady. Gently, he sat down beside her and set the tray on the bedside table before pulling out something else — the well-worn fairytale book they always read together at the library. The one about the girl who wandered into the woods and slowly, page by page, found herself.
He figured… today, they could have their reading session in bed instead.
When she stirred awake, eyes blinking open slowly, she looked over at him — first at the tray, then at the book in his lap. Her brows lifted in quiet surprise. He gave her a small smile but didn't say anything. And neither did she.
Instead, she sat up slowly, adjusted the blanket around her legs, and picked up a slice of fruit. The smallest smile tugged at her lips as she brought the tea mug to her lips, sipping cautiously. Her eyes softened at the taste — he could tell she liked it. Then, without breaking the silence, he opened the book and began reading from where they left off yesterday.
His voice was soft, low and even. He read not just the words, but the rhythm of them — the way he always did when reading to her. And she just listened, quietly nibbling at the fruit, letting the warmth of the tea settle in her chest.
Time passed gently like that — slow, kind, unhurried.
Eventually, without a word, she leaned her head against his shoulder, her body sinking into him like the final piece of a puzzle. He paused for a second, as if to absorb the moment, then kept reading.
A few pages later, she pressed a light kiss to his cheek — just once — a silent thank you.
And that was enough.
---
Later, after the tea had cooled and the breakfast tray sat half-finished on the nightstand, Laura spoke.
It was quiet at first — a hesitant ripple in the stillness.
"Axel…" she said softly, her voice barely more than a breath.
He paused mid-sentence and looked down at her. Her head was still resting on his shoulder, but he could feel the tension settle in her frame. He closed the book without a word and set it aside, giving her his full attention.
She hesitated, eyes flicking to the edge of the blanket. "Remember how… everyone was looking at me yesterday?"
He didn't respond right away. Let her finish her thought.
"Nico even asked why everyone suddenly went so…" She trailed off, searching for the right word, her brows knitting together.
"Quiet?" Axel offered gently.
She nodded, lips pressing together.
He let the word settle between them for a beat, thinking carefully before speaking.
"It's out of respect," he said finally, his voice steady but kind. "You deserve that. It's not pity, Laura. No one's looking at you like you're broken. Or fragile."
She didn't respond, but he felt the shift in her breath — the way she was listening, waiting.
"We all just…" He stopped, the words catching slightly in his throat before he pushed forward. "We love you. Too much to pretend you haven't been through hell. And we've watched you… slowly reclaim yourself. Day by day."
Her eyes welled slightly, but she blinked it back, steadying her breath.
Axel reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "That kind of strength doesn't make people uncomfortable," he murmured. "It humbles them."
She didn't say anything in response — no nod, no whispered thanks. But her actions spoke for themselves.
She leaned into him, quietly, deliberately. The kind of lean that wasn't just about affection, but about trust. Her head found the curve of his neck, and her hand, still in his, gave the faintest squeeze. Then she closed her eyes.
And he felt it — the moment her body finally let go of the tension it had been holding.
Her shoulders softened. Her breathing slowed. She melted into him like she had nowhere else to be, like the war inside her had gone quiet, even if just for now.
Axel exhaled too, low and steady, and wrapped his arm around her.
There was no need for words.
In that moment, her silence was the loudest form of love.
---
After breakfast, they decided to take a bath together — a quiet indulgence, one they rarely allowed themselves. Axel's apartment, modest as it was, had both a shower and a bath — something he appreciated more than he ever thought he would.
He prepared it carefully, adjusting the temperature until the steam curled lightly above the water's surface. He stepped in first, testing it, then leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "It's perfect," he called out softly.
Laura appeared a few moments later, a towel wrapped neatly around her head, another around her body. She dipped her toes in first, as if asking permission from the water itself. Then, after a brief pause, she unwrapped the towel and stepped in, settling on the opposite side of the tub.
It was nice. Warm. Quiet.
They didn't bathe together often. In fact, this was only the second time.
The first time, she had kept to her side — quiet, unsure, content simply to share the space but not the closeness. He hadn't pushed her. He never would.
But today… felt different.
It began as the smallest shift — a slight scoot closer, just a few inches through the water. Then another. And another. Her movements were slow, almost shy, but deliberate.
Axel noticed. He opened his eyes and blinked, watching her approach. His head tilted slightly, like a confused boy trying to read a new page in a familiar book.
She tilted hers too, like a question.
And then… she turned around.
With a quiet breath, she moved to sit in front of him, her back facing him as she gently leaned against his chest. Testing the space. Testing herself.
Axel froze for a heartbeat, then softened, arms slowly coming up to wrap around her — careful, loose at first, until he felt her fully relax into him.
Neither of them said anything. The water lapped softly against the tub, the only sound between them.
Then, after a long moment, she murmured, almost like she was thinking aloud, "This is… far nicer."
Axel smiled, just a little, resting his chin lightly atop her head.
"Yeah," he said quietly, holding her just a bit tighter. "It is."
That's when she asked it. Quietly. Carefully. Like she wasn't sure if it was the right moment, or if she even wanted the answer.
"So you don't think that I'm fragile… right? Despite always being so careful with me… and never pushing me into anything?"
Her voice wavered at the end, more honest than unsure.
Axel didn't respond right away. Not with words.
Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck — soft and unhurried. A touch that said more than a sentence could.
She exhaled, just slightly, her shoulders relaxing again. He stayed like that for a while, arms wrapped around her in the warm water, his chest rising and falling against her back.
Then, after a moment passed — long enough to let the silence breathe — he leaned in a little closer. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered:
"You're not fragile, Laura. You're precious. There's a difference."
She didn't move. But he felt the way her fingers tightened slightly around his forearm, like the words had caught her off guard — like they mattered more than she expected them to.
He rested his forehead gently against her shoulder, adding softly, "I'm careful with you because I care. Not because I think you'll break."
And for the first time that morning, she smiled — the kind of small, hidden smile that only he got to see.
---
Later that afternoon, the apartment was wrapped in a kind of soft, ordinary quiet — the kind that came with slow Sundays and shared routines. Laura was curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, scrolling absently through her phone. In her lap, the street cat — no, their street cat, at this point — purred contentedly as Laura absentmindedly ran her fingers along the soft fur behind her ears.
She still didn't have a name. They had joked about it a few times — half-serious suggestions like "Miso" or "Pickle," but none of them had stuck. And maybe it was because Laura had secretly been holding out, waiting for something that felt just right. Today, though, the thought had been lingering more than usual.
She lived here now. Full-time. Her old apartment sat quiet and untouched, like a chapter she hadn't needed to return to in over six weeks. This place — Axel's place — had quietly become theirs. The cat, the shared mugs, the folded laundry left on the armchair. It all told a story that Laura hadn't planned, but found herself grateful for.
Across the room, Axel was focused at his desk, headphones on, leaning into his latest freelance mix. She could see the way his fingers tapped rhythmically along the keyboard, the slight bob of his head as he listened for layers only he could hear. They didn't need to talk — his presence, constant and calm, was enough.
And then…
Her phone buzzed softly in her hand. A notification.
Laura's thumb hovered for a second before she tapped it.
A message.
From her mother.
Her breath caught.
It was simple. Polite, even. A short paragraph — just enough to make her stomach knot.
"Laura, I trust you're well. Your father and I have decided to host a family gathering next weekend. It would be appropriate for you to attend. Everyone is expecting to see you — it's been quite some time. Let me know that you'll be coming."
She read it once. Then again.
And again.
Her eyes widened, heart slowly picking up pace. The words didn't change, but they somehow grew heavier each time she read them. Her fingers curled around the phone a little tighter.
The cat stirred in her lap, sensing the shift in her body, letting out a quiet meow before settling again.
Laura didn't move. Didn't say anything.
But from across the room, Axel glanced up from his screen — sensing, without needing to hear, that something had changed.
---
Laura didn't bring it up.
Not at first.
She just quietly set her phone down that day and carried on as if nothing had happened. As if the message hadn't shaken something in her. Axel hadn't pressed her — not then. But he'd noticed the shift. How her shoulders had tensed. How her touch on the cat's fur had gone still for a moment, absent-minded instead of present.
He knew something was wrong. He just didn't know what.
A day passed.
Then another.
And then that morning, she told him she was heading out — said she needed to grab a few things from the store, nothing special. Her voice was even, but her eyes were a little distant. The kind of distant she got when her mind was somewhere else, circling thoughts she didn't want to share.
Axel waited until the door clicked shut behind her.
And then, despite himself… he stood.
He didn't like snooping. Hated it, actually. He respected her privacy — always had. But something had felt off since that message buzzed on her phone, and he couldn't shake it.
He walked to the bedroom.
Her phone was right where she always kept it — in the top drawer of the nightstand, screen-down beneath a folded sleep shirt. She never locked it. Never saw the need. She trusted him. And she was usually careful, always keeping it close.
Except now.
Axel hesitated. Then gently slid it open.
It only took a few taps.
There, in her message history, nestled between spam and a few old conversations, was a thread from someone saved as "Madam Hirase."
He frowned at the name.
The same last name as Laura.
Madam?
That was… odd.
He tapped it.
The message was short — cold in a way that made his chest clench almost instantly.
"Laura, I trust you're well. Your father and I have decided to host a family gathering next weekend. It would be appropriate for you to attend. Everyone is expecting to see you — it's been quite some time. Let me know that you'll be coming."
Axel stared at the words.
Not Would you like to come?Not We'd love to see you.
Just: It would be appropriate.Let me know that you'll be coming.
He felt a chill settle in his gut.
This wasn't a request. It was a summon. Framed with manners, yes — but with that unmistakable edge of expectation. Of control.
He didn't need to know everything about Laura's past to understand what this meant. He already knew enough — enough to recognize how tightly she'd been held in someone else's mold for most of her life. How she'd only just begun to stretch her limbs and taste freedom. To explore who Laura was without anyone dictating it.
And now this woman — her mother, he realized — was trying to pull her back.
He carefully locked the phone and returned it to the drawer.
Then he sat down on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, running a hand down his face.
Laura hadn't told him.
Maybe she was trying to protect herself. Maybe she was trying to protect him.
But it didn't matter. Because now that he knew… he couldn't un-know.
That message wasn't a gentle invitation. It was a chain, disguised as a silk ribbon.
And if Laura believed she didn't have a choice… Axel knew he had to help her see that she did.
---
When Laura got back home, the first thing she noticed was the silence.
Not the usual peaceful quiet — the kind that wrapped around the apartment like a blanket — but something heavier. Thicker. Like the air was holding its breath.
She stepped inside, bag in hand, closing the door behind her. Axel was already there in the hallway, standing stiff with his arms crossed, then dropping them, then raising a hand to his face — pacing. He had clearly been waiting.
As soon as she entered, he turned toward her.
He didn't say anything — not at first. Instead, he reached for her hand.
And in that one simple gesture, she knew.
We need to talk.
Her breath caught, but she didn't resist. She blinked at him — eyes soft, cautious — then gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod and set her bag gently on the floor.
They moved to the couch together, a strange quiet buzzing between them. She sat down, and he followed, not letting go of her hand. His grip was warm but trembling slightly — not with anger, but with something closer to guilt. Or worry. Or both.
He exhaled.
"Laura…" he began, voice low, steady, but weighted. "I need to be honest with you. I looked through your phone."
Her eyes widened faintly, but she didn't speak. Just listened.
"I know I shouldn't have. I know it wasn't mine to open. But you've been… off. Distant. Ever since that day on the couch. I could see it in your eyes. And I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop feeling it — that something was wrong. And when you went out today, I…"
He looked down at her hands in his, shaking his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Laura. But I found the message. From…" he hesitated, "Madam Hirase. Your mom."
The room went still.
Laura didn't say anything right away. Her heart sank, but not from betrayal. Not because he'd read her message — she knew Axel. She knew he would never violate her trust without good reason. And she trusted him enough to know this came from care, not control.
No — what made her chest ache, what made her fingers curl slightly in his, was the knowing.
He knew now.
The carefully locked drawer had been opened. The mask she'd kept half-on, even in this safe space, was slipping. He'd seen the words. The tone. The command disguised as a request.
Her secret was out.
She dropped her gaze to her lap, her voice barely above a whisper. "So… now you know."
Axel's grip on her hands tightened, just a little.
"I know she doesn't ask," he said quietly. "She expects. And I know how much that must weigh on you. But Laura… you don't owe her anything. Not your time. Not your presence. Not your obedience."
Laura's throat tightened. She wasn't crying, but it felt like if she blinked too hard, she might.
"I thought maybe I could just ignore it," she admitted, her voice soft, cracked around the edges. "Pretend I hadn't seen it. But I knew she'd follow up. She always does. And if I didn't go… I'd be the disappointment again."
Axel leaned in closer, pressing her hands between his palms. "You're not a disappointment. Not here. Not with me."
And for the first time in days, Laura let her body lean toward his, the smallest weight pressed against his side.
She didn't know what she was going to do. But for now, she didn't have to figure it out alone.