The next morning, I woke up alone in bed. The sheets were tangled around my legs, and I could hear water running through the pipes in the bathroom.
I sat up, noticing that Tristan was already gone. A glance at the clock told me that it was almost nine o'clock. That meant he would probably be doing whatever it is that the mafia in drama shows does.
I stood up, walking towards the bathroom to see if he had left any instructions for me. As I walked toward the door, my hand was on the knob, but there was something that stopped me from opening it.
What the hell?! Did they just put locks on the doors? I thought as I stared at the doorknob. It was locked!
I turned around, looking around the room. There was no keyhole or anything else that resembled a lock. What the heck was going on here?
I heard footsteps behind me, and then Tristan appeared in the doorway. "Good morning."
"Good morning?" I asked incredulously. "What are you talking about? There's nothing good about the morning!"
"It is for me," he said simply.
I glared at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Was he serious?
He strode towards me, a confident grin playing on his lips. "Do you know why?"
"No," I replied, my arms folded defensively across my chest. "Why?"
"Because," he said, coming to stand so close that our bodies were almost touching, "I get to see that satisfied look on your face when you wake up."
My cheeks flushed at his audacious remark. "What?"
"Oh, come on," Tristan teased, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I...I don't..." I stammered, feeling my face heat up even more.
"Really?" He arched an eyebrow. "Well, let me jog your memory then." His hand moved from my hair to gently trace down the side of my neck, causing shivers to run down my spine. "Last night, you were quite... vocal about your satisfaction."
"That's... that's not..." I started to protest, but he cut me off with a roguish grin.
"I just want to keep you close, Cecile," he said, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. "Where I can keep you safe."
"Safe? From what?" I asked, my confusion evident. "A month ago, I asked for your help because I was scared. But I can take care of myself. I don't want to be a burden to anyone."
"I know you can take care of yourself," he said, his gaze never wavering from mine. "But even the strongest of us need help sometimes. And I want to be there for you."
"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
"Because," he started, his fingers gently gripping my chin, making sure I was looking at him, "I want to be there for you. When you're in danger, when you're scared... I want to be the one you turn to."
"I don't understand," I admitted, looking into his eyes. There was a determination there, a fervor that scared me more than anything.
"Then let me make it simple for you," he said. "I want you by my side, Cecile. Not because I think you're helpless, but because I care about you. And I want to keep you safe."
"Safe from what? I'm not in danger," I retorted, pulling away from his hold.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "What about those wolves that chased you a month ago? They weren't just any wolves, Cecile."
My heart pounded in my chest as the realization of what he was saying hit me. "What... what do you mean?"
"Those weren't just wolves. They were rogues, Cecile. Dangerous, unpredictable. They could've killed you."
"But... but they didn't," I countered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You saved me."
"That's not the point," he said, his voice firm. "The point is, you were in danger. And as much as you think you can handle it, you can't always be prepared for everything."
"I'm not afraid," I declared, my voice full of determination. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," he said, a soft smile curving his lips. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."
"I can handle it," I repeated, but this time my voice lacked the previous conviction. "I can... I can..."
My words trailed off as I looked at him, his gaze filled with nothing but concern and sincerity. And suddenly, the fight left me.
"I know you can," he whispered, pulling me close. "But you don't have to do it alone."
As he held me close, I realized that maybe I didn't have to. Maybe I could lean on him, just a little. But only until I sorted out the chaos in my life. Only until I exacted my revenge on my ex. Only until I could ensure the safety of my unborn child.
I nestled into his embrace, but as I did so, I made a silent vow to myself - I wouldn't let Tristan in on my secret. Not yet. Not until I was sure of his intentions. Not until I knew that he wanted me for me, not because of the life growing inside of me.
"I... I will think about it," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Take your time, Cecile," he said, his arms tightening around me. "I'm not going anywhere."
And with that, he released me from his embrace and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
One month. That was how long it had been since I discovered I was pregnant with Tristan's child. But I didn't have the courage to tell him, and didn't want to trap him in a relationship out of obligation or responsibility.
I took a deep breath, my hand instinctively moving to my still-flat belly. The thought of bringing a child into this world was terrifying, yet somehow thrilling. But I wasn't ready to share this with Tristan. Not yet, at least.
My revenge was all I could think of. I owed it to myself, to the woman I used to be before those rogue wolves chased after me.
At that moment, I realized that my life had become a whirlwind of confusion, secrets, and uncertain feelings. But for now, I was safe. And for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to feel a little bit of hope.
Perhaps, with Tristan by my side, I could face whatever was coming. Perhaps, just maybe, everything would turn out fine.
But I wasn't ready to bank on 'perhaps' just yet.