C29 Night Guard

Arjun felt a deep, sharp pull in his chest.

The cheerful girl on the bed — the one laughing with her cousin earlier — the one who seemed like sunlight in human form — was silently carrying a storm inside her.

He gently placed the report back in the notebook.

He didn’t want to disturb her, but the weight of the knowledge pressed on him.

Finally, after ensuring the door was locked, the apartment quiet, he moved to sit on the edge of her bed. His hands rested lightly on the blanket near her shoulders, careful not to wake her.

She shifted slightly in her sleep.

He couldn’t control the ache that filled him — the urge to be closer, to make her feel safe.

Slowly, cautiously, he shifted onto the bed, keeping a careful distance at first. His hand brushed hers. She stirred again, murmuring something unintelligible.

“Stay close,” he whispered softly.

By instinct, she curled slightly against him, eyes half-closed, comforted by the presence he didn’t explain.

He stayed still for a long while, letting her rest. But his mind wandered to the diary again, to the poetry, to the medical report. And more than anything, he felt the need to protect her, to hold her, to make her feel that the world outside couldn’t touch her while he was here.

Hours passed.

The mountains outside darkened further. The wind carried a chill, and he pulled the blanket around both of them.

Her warmth pressed against him, soft and gentle, her breath slow and even.

He couldn’t resist any longer.

His hand moved, brushing gently over her hair, over her arm. She murmured softly, almost asleep, and he leaned down.

A kiss. Light. Careful. On her temple. Then her cheek. Her lips.

She stirred, blinking sleepily.

“Arjun…?” she whispered.

“Shh,” he murmured. “Just rest.”

She exhaled and leaned into him, trusting him completely.

Skin against skin beneath the thin blanket, his arms around her, hers curled slightly into him.

The world outside, the dangers outside, disappeared.

For a moment, nothing existed but the small apartment, the two of them, and the fragile peace they shared.

Arjun thought silently as he held her.

This girl… she’s a storm wrapped in sunlight. She’s broken and beautiful, fragile and strong… and I cannot — will not — let anything happen to her.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to just feel. To just be with her.

The night stretched on, the mountains breathing quietly outside, and he stayed there.

Guarding her. Holding her.

Loving her in silence.