#lfapwhb

words: 4100 a/n: Hi again! I think this might be the longest chapter so far, and there is a lot going on at once right now, but please stick with me haha I tagged it slow-burn and I meant it.

To be honest, I am pretty nervous to see how this chapter will be received, there is definitely big reveals happening in this and there is yet more to come in the next two chapters, so buckle up friends! Shit is going down haha

As always, thank you for the love!! Please don't be afraid to share your thoughts (but pls be nice im fragile too lmao) I love wring this story and hearing from you, it's so so nice <3

As always, enjoy! <3

Azriel’s silence was slowly killing her. 

Especially after Gwyn had seen him at the gym a week ago and he hadn’t even been able to look at her. 

Nesta had been wrong. Azriel wasn’t busy or distracted or disappearing into himself the way Nesta insisted he always did. He was deliberately ignoring her. The realization stung far more than she had anticipated. 

It had felt like a cruel joke when she’d arrived at the gym with Nesta after their chat at the cafe, only to spot both Cassian and Azriel immediately. Her friend swore she hadn’t known they’d be there, that Cassian had claimed they had important work to handle that Sunday. 

“He just said he’d see me tonight, when they were done,” Nesta had promised. “He knew I was going to the gym with you and Emerie though.”   

When Cassian had spotted them as well, beaming at the sight of Nesta, Gwyn hadn’t had any other option than to acknowledge them. 

Even less of an option when Cassian waved them over from their spot in the corner, and Nesta had all but melted into his arms, entirely unbothered by the layer of sweat coating his skin.

Azriel had been next to him, tense and strangely aloof. His hazel eyes looked anywhere but her. The floor. His hands. The weights. Except for the one brief moment when Gwyn had plucked up her courage and uttered a measly little, ”hey.” 

He’d looked at her then. 

And she had almost bolted when their eyes finally met.

Gwyn still couldn’t stop replaying the awkward encounter in her head; the way he’d just barely nodded his head in greeting and averted his gaze almost immediately, like looking at her was unpleasant. Unbearable. It was painfully different from the Azriel she had gotten used to. The steady warmth she’d so closely associated with him was just... gone.  

Less than a minute later, he had excused himself and retreated to the opposite side of the gym to finish his workout. It was awkward enough that even Nesta and Cassian looked after him with furrowed brows.

Cassian had tried to play it off with a simple, ”Ignore him, he’s been pissy all week.” 

Nesta had given her a small smile, attempting to soften the blow, but Gwyn had seen the pity she tried to hide. 

Some parts of her had just gone numb after that. It became too much all at once. Gwyn got on one of the treadmills and just ran and ran and ran. Until her legs threatened to give out and both Nesta and Emerie had to tell her to take it easy. 

Another part of her had crumbled under the disappointment. The hurt—slowly suffocating her from within. It was unfair. Life was unfair. She tried so hard to stay positive, to move on and build a life. But how could she be satisfied when her past threatened to catch up with her every day and every step towards a change ended in a disaster. 

She was so tired. 

And sad. 

Then she was angry. 

Because what the fuck was Azriel’s problem? Even if he thought she was weird, he had no reason to stop talking to her and avoid her the way he did. She had thought he was different, but maybe she was wrong. 

She was so tired. 

And then sad again. 

Then angry. 

Around and around it went. The whole week after the gym incident, Gwyn’s emotions had been all over the place. One moment she was reading through their entire conversation. From that first message to the laughing emojis, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. The next she was typing a long and harsh message, calling him all sorts of names, only to delete the entire thing and throw her phone across the room. 

Other times, usually late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she’d look at the message from the unknown number instead. Gwyn had read it so many times, she wasn’t surprised she still saw it when she closed her eyes. She’d tried to look it up on every possible site she could find. Nothing. There was nothing. No name belonging to the number. No hints of who had texted her. 

She’d blocked the number and then unblocked it a hundred times. Because what if the person texted her again, and explained everything and she’d been worrying for nothing. Or they texted her again and said something else that made her nightmares resurface—not knowing somehow felt worse. But so did knowing. 

So Gwyn blocked the number. Then unblocked it.  

“Gwyn?” 

Emerie’s voice cut through the fog in her head. Gwyn blinked hard and was startled to find that the car they were in had stopped moving. Her friend stood outside and leaned over, looking back at Gwyn who was still buckled in her seat. “You coming?” 

Outside, the huge art gallery spilled its golden light across the pavement—illuminating the grand entrance and the people crowding the street. Elegant dresses and expensive suits drifted past behind Emerie. All of them chattering and laughing alongside the soft music floating through the open doors. Feyre Archeron’s name gleamed across the banners hanging around the large building. 

Nesta was already halfway inside. 

Gwyn quickly shoved her phone deep into her purse and put on a smile, hoping neither of friends had noticed her staring at it again. Though, with her luck, she was pretty sure they had. Thankfully, neither had mentioned it during the car ride. 

“Of course,” she said as she unbuckled and forced herself to move. “Sorry.” 

There were a thousand other things Gwyn would rather be doing that night. Attending Nesta’s sister's new art exhibition wasn’t one of them. No, actually, that wasn’t true. She couldn’t think of anything particularly that she wanted to do. But going to an art exhibition where a bunch of rich snobs would try to outdo each other all night... That was something she most certainly wasn’t in the mood for. 

Not to mention the fact that Azriel Singer would most definitely also be there. 

Nesta hadn’t given her much of a choice though, saying she needed to get out and do something. It was clear both her friends had caught on to her changing moods and they were worried. Gwyn hated it. 

Worrying them. 

So she had agreed to come. 

Truth be told, Gwyn didn’t mind the art exhibition in itself. She’d listened to Nesta boast about her sister’s talent plenty of times—Nesta would never admit she did that—and Gwyn was excited to see it. She loved art. It was just all the people. Strangers. All of them rich, successful and carrying the kind of influence and power Gwyn could only ever dream of achieving. 

She felt out of place the moment she stepped inside. In her strappy blue dress that she’d found in a cute secondhand boutique a while back. She’d never had the opportunity to wear it, until now. It was flattering without being overly revealing. The perfect shade of blue against the coppery tones of her hair. She felt pretty in it at home. 

Here, amongst sparkling jewelry and perfectly pressed suits, it suddenly looked as cheap as it was.

Emerie must’ve sensed her insecurity. Because she swiftly slipped her hand into Gwyn’s, giving it an encouraging squeeze. 

In the same moment, Nesta reappeared with Cassian and another couple in tow. The man, dressed in an immaculate black suit, gave Gwyn an effortless beautiful smile. His deep blue eyes, almost violet, sparked with interest as he took her in. Gwyn swore she could actually see the cogs in his mind twisting and turning with intrigue. 

The woman next to him looked so much like Nesta there was no doubt in her mind that it was one of her sisters. Gwyn had never met any of them before. Never had the opportunity. Or rather, had never taken the opportunities given in the past—too comfortable in the safety of her home. But judging by the dark tattoos covering her slender arms, Gwyn guessed that this was Feyre. The woman whose art exhibition she was currently attending. Which meant the striking man had to Rhysand, Cassian’s and Azriel’s other brother. 

Feyre gave her a warm smile and extended her hand in Gwyn’s direction. 

“Hi, you must be Gwyn. I’m Feyre,” she confirmed, shaking her hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you.  Thank you for coming.” 

“Oh, well, thank you for letting me come,” Gwyn replied nervously and glanced around the large room. “This is amazing.” 

“I’m Rhysand,” the man said, also confirming what she had already guessed, and extended his hand. “Rhys.” 

Gwyn couldn’t help but blush under his charming smile and sultry voice as she shook his hand. She realized immediately why Nesta always had such a strong opinion of her sister’s husband. They were made from the same coin. Cunning and sharp. With everything Gwyn was trying to hide—It felt dangerous standing next to both of them at once. 

And she couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was about to unravel. Something in her gut had been telling her all day that something else was about to go wrong. Ever since entering the gallery, Gwyn couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. By her friends. By Rhysand. Someone else. Something. 

Minutes passed by. Someone handed her a glass of champagne that she didn’t drink. Too unsettled to be able to stomach anything. 

More minutes went by, and the feeling didn’t stop. It all felt wrong somehow. People came, congratulating Feyre and praising her art. Art Gwyn still hadn’t even looked at yet. Emerie and Nesta made sure to stay close to her, even though they hadn’t moved since they arrived. It didn’t ease the feeling of being watched.

“Oh, look,” Feyre announced suddenly, waving at something behind her. “Elain and Lucien are finally here.” 

A small warning bell went off in her head at that, and still, Gwyn turned around and felt her stomach drop. Another woman sharing similar traits to Nesta was walking towards them with a bright smile. Elain Archeron. Her curly hair bounced around her as she picked up her pace, pretty much pulling the man—whose hand she was holding—along with her. 

Lucien. 

Even without the mismatched colored eyes, Gwyn would’ve recognized him. 

She quickly turned back, trying to hide her face behind her hair. She had to get out of there. Before he recognized her as well. 

Elain pulled both her sisters into what looked like a bone-crushing hug. Another pang of hurt sliced through her at the sight of it and Gwyn had to remind herself to actually breathe. There was no time for a breakdown, she had to come up with some quick excuse and leave. 

Two pairs of eyes were watching her though. She felt both their stares burn through her skin. One pair nearly violet and the other pair mismatched—one eye russet and the other almost gold. Both were studying her, but in different ways. Rhysand seemed to pick up on her panic and tilted his head curiously, picking apart her reaction piece by piece, as if he could read her mind. 

Lucien, on the other hand, was watching her carefully. Gwyn saw the moment it all clicked. Saw the surprise he tried to mask as Feyre pulled him into a hug. 

“Oh, Gwyn,” Elain’s voice cut through the panic and suddenly she was also pulled into a long hug. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Nesta speaks so highly of you.” 

Her body moved on its own as she returned the hug awkwardly. 

“You too,” she said, but her voice didn’t feel like her own. How had her life turned into such a mess in such a short time? Why hadn’t she asked Nesta more about her sisters? About Elain’s fiance? Why? Why? Why? It would’ve been so easy to ask more, to ask her to show some pictures. Anything. Instead, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to know anything. Hadn’t wanted to see yet another couple in love. 

And now, her past was truly catching up to her. 

“Are you from Sangravah?”

Gwyn knew the question was directed at her. Her blood turned to ice in her veins and the dinner she’d had with Nesta and Emerie earlier threatened to come back up. It was a miracle it didn’t. The room tilted around her as every eye in their small group turned to look at her. 

Feyre, apparently as perceptive as her husband and older sister, cut in before Gwyn’s silence became too long. 

“Oh Sangravah,” she chirped, clapping her tattooed hands together lightly. “Isn’t that where you got that beautiful carpet for your guest-bedroom, Elain?” 

It shouldn’t have worked. Somehow it did, and the conversation moved away from Gwyn immediately as Elain enthusiastically started to talk about the chic little store she’d found in Sangravah during one of their trips. 

Unfortunately, it was not enough to keep Lucien’s curious eyes away from her. 

He knew. 

Or at the very least, he recognized enough to start putting the pieces together. Gwyn could practically see it happening behind those mismatched eyes every time they flickered back toward her face.

“Excuse me,” she blurted out suddenly. “I—uh, I need to find a bathroom.”

She wasn’t entirely sure anyone even heard her and didn’t stay long enough to find out.

The large gallery was too warm. Too crowded. Too suffocating. Her short heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she hurried through the sea of people. Every click vibrated through her body violently as snippets of conversation blurred into a loud buzzing. 

Still feeling watched, Gwyn made the mistake of looking over her shoulder.

Azriel stood near one of Feyre’s larger paintings with a glass of amber liquor in his hand, a beautiful blond woman in a red dress next to him. The woman was talking animatedly about something, but Azriel didn’t seem to be listening. 

His hazel eyes were already watching her. 

Gwyn looked away first this time, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to keep herself from falling apart. 

Breathe. 

She just needed to breathe. 

The hallway leading toward the bathrooms was thankfully quieter than the main gallery. Dim lights lined the dark walls, highlighting the framed photographs and smaller paintings scattered throughout the corridor. Gwyn stopped once she was finally away from the crowd, slumping against the wall and squeezing her eyes shut. Willing her pulse to slow down, praying for the nausea to disappear. 

This was bad.

No, bad didn’t even begin to cover it.

It was a disaster. A huge fucking disaster. She should’ve listened to her gut and stayed at home. How stupid to think anything would ever go her way. 

Gwyn was so tired. 

Sad.

Angry. 

“Gwyneth Vanserra,” a smooth voice suddenly drawled. “A familiar face I haven’t seen in a long time. Should’ve known you’d also end up in Velaris.” 

Her eyes snapped open at once. Across from her, leaning against the other wall, was another ghost from her past. A man with the same red hair as Lucien. Hair that was similar to hers, though the red was slightly stronger than her coppery tones. 

She swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat and ground her teeth together so hard it hurt. 

“That’s not my name,” she hissed and glanced around the hallway to make sure no one else was around to hear them. The man smirked lazily and crossed his arms over his chest. His amber eyes looked her up and down slowly, taking in every little detail. The same way he had during the few times she’d met him as a child.

Eris Vanserra. 

Of course he was there as well. 

“Hm, I guess not,” he said and raised a brow. “It’s Berdara now, isn’t it? Your grandmother’s maiden name if I’m not mistaken.” 

Something in her snapped at that. Every emotion from the past week and a half boiled over. 

“Stop it,” she snapped and pushed herself off the wall and crossed the space between them. Eris did not seem threatened as she pointed a finger right into his chest. “You need to keep your mouth shut, do you hear me?” 

“That’s no way to greet an old relative now, is it?” Eris hummed, entirely unconcerned as he simply grinned down at her. 

“We are hardly related,” she retorted. 

“Related enough.” His eyes sharpened slightly as Gwyn scowled. “If I cared, it’d almost be insulting—Rolf Vanserra’s granddaughter pretending she isn’t part of the family line.”  

The words hit like a physical blow. 

“Keep your voice down!” Gwyn pushed at his chest again. “It’s not like we were ever welcomed anyway.” 

“It still doesn’t change the fact that we share the same blood.” His long fingers wrapped around her wrist as he carefully lowered her hand, stopping her from pushing him a third time. Gwyn snatched her arm back, took a step back and glared at him. “What happened to you? You disappeared.” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“Humor me.” Eris shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

She was close to tears. Her voice cracked slightly as she repeated, “You need to stop.” 

It revealed more than she’d ever intended because Eris’s expression gradually shifted. It was not softer exactly. More attentive maybe. 

“Last we heard you were living with that obnoxious prick of a man,” he said with a slight sneer. “Hayden Solder, wasn’t it?” 

Gwyn visibly flinched at the name. 

Eris went still. Only a small muscle in his jaw ticked before he asked, “What happened?” 

“Nothing!” Black dots swam across her vision as Eris raised a scrutinizing brow at her reaction. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

Panic fully crashed through Gwyn then, so forcefully and sudden that her knees gave out. Eris caught her by the elbow before she could hit the floor. 

“Brother,” Lucien’s voice filled the otherwise empty hallway. "Perhaps this is not the right time for an interrogation.” He turned his attention to Gwyn’s crumbling form and judging by the way he looked at her, it was clear that he had figured out who she was. “Are you alright?” 

“P-please.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper. The plea escaped before any sort of pride could stop it. “No one can know.” 

Lucien came closer, placing a warm and comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“They won’t,” he promised calmly and glanced up at Eris with a harsh glare. Waiting for the oldest Vanserra brother to agree. Daring him to go against it. Warning him to do so. 

Eris only rolled his eyes. 

“Our family is built on secrets,” he said casually. “What is one more?” 

Relief nearly made her knees give out for a second time. It was then that Gwyn realized Eris still had a steady grip around her arm, keeping her upright. She slowly pulled away from him, standing taller and pushing her loose hair back behind her ears. Attempting to restore at least some part of her dignity.

“I think you’ve done enough here,” Lucien said to his brother, shooting him a look Gwyn couldn’t decipher. 

“You’re always so dramatic, Little Lu,” Eris snorted. 

“And you always lacked basic social skills.” 

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s mouth. Then his amber eyes flickered back to Gwyn one last time. Taking in her rigid posture and trembling hands. 

“Relax,” he mused and gave her a grin that was far from comforting. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

“Eris,” Lucien warned with an exasperated sigh. Eris raised both hands mockingly before stepping around Gwyn so he could leave. 

Once his frame disappeared around the corner, Lucien watched her for a moment before speaking again. “He won’t say anything. He may be an asshole most of the time, but he won’t say a word to anybody. Trust that.” 

His attempt to comfort her didn’t land. Because if they knew she was in Velaris, anyone could. Eris had known about her new name. She’d been so careful. Had no social media accounts that revealed her full name. Had left no traces. Clotho had helped her with that. No record should exist. At least no record that was accessible. 

Lucien cleared his throat lightly. “Are you alright?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He nodded and then glanced away briefly, jaw tightening 

“We heard about your mother and sister...” He hesitated before continuing, "about, uhm–about the accident. Our mother wanted to attend their funerals, but Beron...” He trailed off again with a long exhale. “We couldn’t make it. I know it was a long time ago now, but I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Gwyn closed her eyes before any tears could fall. It had been over ten years, yet, it hurt just as much as it did back then. 

“Thank you,” she whispered again, still not trusting her voice to fully carry her words. 

“Can I–Do you need anything?” 

“I just... need a moment,” she admitted quietly whilst continuing to keep her eyes shut. It was the only way to at least pretend she had some control left. Eyes closed and she could be anywhere. Anywhere but there. “To breathe.” 

“Of course,” Lucien said, still observing her carefully. And then, “there is a small patio if you continue down the hall and go left. If you want some fresh air. I’ll cover for you.” 

Gwyn managed to give him a weak nod. Lucien lingered for a moment. Hesitating as if he wanted to say something else. Ask more questions. Thankfully, he didn’t. Because she had no answers to give him anyway. 

Once Gwyn made it outside, she collapsed into one of the chairs placed across the small patio. The chilly night air did little to help her thundering heart, but at least no one else was out there. Around her the large garden seemed to glitter beneath the bright moon. Beautiful and untouchable all at once. A stark contrast to everything Gwyn currently was. 

She never should’ve made that stupid new years resolution. Get out there. Try new things. How fucking stupid. Take your life back. As if it had ever been hers. What a joke. 

Tragedy followed her. Would always follow. She was a fool for thinking she could run from it all. It was all bound to find her from the start. 

Still at the library? You never change 

Too many things were happening at once. It was getting harder and harder to pretend that the unknown number was anything but another piece of her past coming back. Three years had passed since she’d escaped. Since she became Gwyneth Berdara instead. No one knew about the change. Not even Nesta or Emerie. They knew a lot. But not that, and it had to stay like that.  

It was safer that way. 

At least it had been. Until she decided to go out more. Until tonight. 

Maybe she needed to run again. Go to another town far away and just stay at home where she could be safe. Keep a low profile and live out the rest of her life alone. It would be what she deserved anyway. Clearly Gwyn was not supposed to find either love or affection. Wasn’t meant for the deeper connection she so often witnessed between Nesta and Cassian. 

She leaned over in her seat, putting her head between her knees, breathing deeply—forcing long steady breaths of air into her burning lungs. The cold air had done nothing to cool her overheating skin or ease the lightness in her head. Hopefully allowing her blood to flow back into her brain would help her think more clearly. 

Gwyn didn’t have much hope it would. 

Behind her, the large patio door suddenly creaked softly. She didn’t bother to sit back up. Couldn’t bring herself to look at who had joined her. It was probably just Nesta or Emerie coming to check on her. Lucien must’ve failed at keeping them busy. Not that she’d expected him to actually succeed in keeping her friends from checking up on her after her hasty exit. 

“I’m fine.” The words slipped from her automatically. Rehearsed.  “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Silence answered her. 

Not her friends then. Her body stiffened before she slowly glanced back up and met a pair of piercing hazel eyes. 

Azriel stood by the door, one hand still resting on one of the sliding glass doors.  

He looked almost as tired as she felt. His golden skin lacked its normal glow, the darkness beneath his eyes unusually prominent. Evidence that perhaps he hadn’t been sleeping very well either.  

It saddened her. 

words: 3260 a/n: I'm just gonna go ahead and apologize right from the start, sooo.... I'M SORRY! This gets angsty, and next part might be worse... :/

But I promise, Azriel will be stepping up very very soon. We just needed Gwyn to shout a little at him first.....

As always, thank you so much for reading and for sticking with me. Please share your thoughts with me in the comments, I love to read everything you have to say! <3

Also, I do want to put some small warnings out there for this chapter, there are hints of Gwyn's past (we will be getting into it much more coming chapter) which includes domestic abuse.

So please take care <3

For nearly two weeks, Gwyn had been waiting for Azriel to reach out to her. Waited for her phone to alert her of a new message from him. Days of nothing. Nothing but wondering what she could’ve done wrong. An endless chorus of why, why, why. 

And now, there he was—at the worst possible time. As much as she had wanted to talk to him again, at that moment Gwyn needed him to leave her alone.  

Fuck. 

Because, of course, he had decided he’d talk to her again when she was on the edge of a complete meltdown. When she had no strength left to keep all of her conflicting emotions at bay. No strength to pretend everything was fine. 

Though tired, Azriel looked much more like the man she’d slowly gotten attached to, rather than the cold stranger she’d met at the gym.

Gwyn hated it. Hated how even despite ignoring her for so long, for turning his back on her so suddenly, the warmth hidden in those hazel eyes gave her a comfort she refused to admit she’d needed. 

She hated the stupid flutter low in her stomach too. 

The way his mere presence somehow dulled the sharp edges around her mind.

It all shattered when he averted his gaze, looking out at the immaculate garden spread before them instead of her. Even more so when he finally spoke. 

“You looked upset earlier,” he said slowly, still not moving from his place by the door, seemingly hesitating whether he should even be there or not. His voice distant and quiet. ”Inside.” 

“Oh yeah?” She couldn’t stop it. The dry laugh that pushed its way past her lips, fueled by all the anger and frustration bubbling inside her. “I’m surprised you even saw me.” 

Gwyn caught him taking a long deep breath. His chest rising slowly, the dark shirt stretching across his broad shoulders and the muscles there. The shadows from the soft lanterns flickered across his face, catching briefly against the sharp line of his jaw and the attractive slope of his nose.

Allowing herself to really look at him. Azriel did look more than tired. He looked exhausted. With his suit jacket slightly rumpled and his shoulders slumped. 

Gwyn hated how it made her heart clench. That the naive and stupidly foolish part of her cared so much. That even despite everything she couldn’t help but wonder if he was alright. She definitely wasn’t, which was partly his fault. 

Some of it at least. 

It was hard to tell it all apart. It felt too tangled. The fear that was clawing at her chest. The confusion and hurt from being ignored. The shock at seeing not one, but two, old faces. The desire to just lead a normal life. 

It was all Gwyn wanted. 

A normal life where she could perhaps even fall in love one day. Was that truly too much to ask? 

It certainly seemed so. Too much. Everything was always just too much. 

When Azriel finally looked at her again, Gwyn was struck with the awful realization of how much she had really missed him. The steady weight of his attention and the calm intensity of his beautiful eyes. 

It made her want to scream. 

Or cry. 

Possibly both. 

And then— 

“Why were you talking to Eris Vanserra?” 

“…Are you serious?” Gwyn blinked at him. Her heart was still pounding, but for different reasons now. Azriel tensed and he crossed his arms over his chest, only to let them fall to his side again immediately. A muscle in his jaw tightened before he spoke again. 

“How do you know him?”

Another laugh fell from her lips before she could stop it. Full of disbelief and no real humor. Out of all the things he could’ve asked... that’s what he wanted to know. It could’ve been funny. If Gwyn wasn’t so fragile. 

For a short moment, Gwyn had believed she would finally find out why he’d stopped talking to her. That at least one of her worries would be answered. But no. He just wanted to know about Eris. 

“Why do you care?” 

“I don’t.” 

The word landed between them like a blow. Heavy and ugly. A burst of anger rose in her so quickly it made her dizzy all over again. 

“Right. Yeah, no, of course you don’t.” She almost didn’t recognize her own voice. It came out too sharp, too bitter, and she wasn't sure she’d ever used that tone before. She found she didn’t really care. Not then. Not when she had already allowed some parts of the raging storm inside her slip past her defenses. Azriel would have to deal with it. ”That’s my mistake for thinking you cared.” 

“Gwyn—” 

“I’ve had a pretty shitty day,” she interrupted harshly, a shiver running unwillingly through her at the sound of her name falling from his lips. She ignored it. Annoyed it had an effect on her to begin with. “Actually, I’ve had a pretty shitty week. Can you leave? Please. I want to be alone.” 

“Are you sure—” 

“No, Azriel,” she cut him off again, standing so swiftly the chair scraped across the floor and knocked into the tables. It was abrupt. Unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent night. 

Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe—but it vanished quickly as he schooled his expression back into its usual effortless calm. ”I’m not sure about anything right now to be completely honest. But what I do know is that you don’t get to ignore me after making me like you and then show up acting all like...” She gestured vaguely toward him, frustrations making her throat tighten and slowing her words. “Like—ugh, you know what? Forget it.” 

“You like me?” 

Her frantic heart skipped a beat. 

“What?” she spluttered and in the same breath realized her slip. “No! I mean, I...”  Heat rushed violently up her neck, spreading across her whole chest and face. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. As if the night wasn’t already a huge disaster. 

But maybe it didn’t matter anymore. She was already hurting. Already standing there with her heart halfway ripped open anyway. To hell with it. ”Why’d you stop talking to me?” 

Azriel, who had finally left his place by the door, froze midstep. A shadow passed over his eyes and Gwyn couldn’t quite name it. Irritation maybe. Guilt. Regret. It could’ve been anything. His throat bobbed once, before he spoke. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Well, it matters to me,” she said, voice cracking even despite her best efforts to stop it. “I don’t understand.” 

Azriel looked away again, his whole body turning away from her slightly. Even without speaking, Gwyn could tell he was putting his walls up. Building them so high and impenetrable that she wondered if he ever let himself feel anything at all. 

“Maybe you don’t need to understand,” he began, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “Maybe it’s better that way.” 

Gwyn didn’t hesitate. Adrenaline rushing through her veins as she witnessed Azriel pulling away from her once more—this time right in front of her. 

“For who?” she challenged, her breathing turning slightly uneven once more. “For you? Or me? Because right now it seems like you’ve already decided I don’t get a say in this.” 

“You’ll be better off without whatever this was,” he said with agonizing firmness, leaving no room for argument. “Trust me.” 

Something inside her splintered. 

“You don’t get to decide that!” she snapped as the tears she’d been holding back all evening—all week—finally broke free. “Listen, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. Whatever. But don’t stand there and pretend it’s for me. Don’t make that choice for me. It’s my life, I get to decide who I want in it!” 

“Gwyn—” 

“No.” She shook her head, keeping her chin high despite the hot tears slowly trailing down her cheeks. “I need to go home now.”

She started to leave. Walking past him on shaky legs, but barely made it two steps before his soft voice rang out in the silent night. 

“Gwyn, wait, I—” 

Long fingers wrapped carefully around her arm, stopping her in her tracks. 

It wasn’t painful. 

Nor was it forceful. 

Still, her whole body froze. 

“Let go of me,” she whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear her own voice. “Please.” 

Azriel released her immediately. As if the words had burned him. Slapped him across the face. When Gwyn looked up, he’d already put a considerable amount of space between them. For the first time there was no mistaking the flicker of emotion across his face. Horror. Shame. Sorrow. 

Silence crashed over them. 

Azriel opened his mouth. Shut it. Only to do the same thing all over again. 

And Gwyn... Gwyn couldn't do anything but just stand there. Could just look at him. Because what else was she supposed to do? Her mind was blank. Her heart was pounding painfully. 

“I didn’t, I’m—” 

“What is going on out here?” 

Neither of them had seen or heard Nesta join them out on the patio. 

She appeared at Gwyn’s side like a snake ready to strike. Silent. Sharp. Dangerous.

Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to look directly at her, but she felt the way Nesta’s gaze flicked between them. Taking in the tears on Gwyn’s face. The distance Azriel had suddenly put between them. The tension that had unraveled between them thick as smoke. 

Azriel straightened slightly, but his face had already slipped back to that unbearable mask of composure Gwyn had grown to hate. 

“Nothing,” Gwyn heard herself say, using the back of her hand to quietly wipe away her tears. Neither Nesta or Azriel moved. “I just... I want to go home.” 

Silence continued to stretch between the three of them and somehow that was worse than anything else. 

Gods, Gwyn was tired. 

But then Nesta just slipped an arm around her, giving her a light squeeze and wordlessly guided her back inside. Nesta said nothing else, only threw one last glare over her shoulder at Azriel. And Gwyn knew that just one single look said more than anything Nesta could’ve voiced aloud. It usually did. 

Azriel didn’t respond. Didn’t say anything else either. 

Neither did Gwyn. 

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

The ride back home passed in a blur. At first, Gwyn tried to hold back her tears. Then she gave up and let them flow freely down her face. Nesta held her hand the entire time.  

Somewhere between leaving the gallery and arriving home, Emerie had joined them. Her presence was steady and warm against Gwyn’s side as Nesta pulled the keys out of her bag and unlocked the door to her apartment. 

While she went into the bathroom, tearing that stupid dress off and removing her make-up, her friends made her a cup of tea. Then dragged every blanket and pillow she owned into the living room until all three of them could squeeze onto the couch together.

They asked no questions. Didn’t push her for any answers as to what had happened. 

Instead they just let her cry on their shoulders and offered their unconditional support. The same way they always did. 

Gwyn didn’t deserve them. Not when she hadn’t even told them everything. Hadn’t told them about her old name. Who she was related to. No matter how distant the connection was, Nesta’s sister was engaged to one of them. Gwyn didn’t know what Nesta would say when she found out. Whether she’d feel hurt. Betrayed. Angry that Gwyn had hidden it at all.

And the unknown number... she should’ve just told them from the start. No matter how scary it was. Now she risked upsetting them by having lied. What if they didn’t want to be her friend anymore? What if it was all too much for them? She was too much. 

Gwyn needed to tell them. 

Not tonight though. 

Not yet. 

Tonight, Gwyn just needed the normalcy of the three of them falling asleep on her too small couch, limbs tangled and overheated. 

She’d tell them about the text tomorrow. After she got some sleep and could think a bit more clearly. 

Maybe she’d even try to talk to Azriel again. She hadn’t meant to snap the way she did. Didn’t want whatever they were to end like... like that. Nesta and Cassian were together, which meant she would most definitely see Azriel again. They couldn’t leave things like that. It would just be another thing haunting her and Gwyn really didn’t want him to be. 

They needed to talk. Properly. Gwyn still didn’t understand, even less so now. 

His words kept ringing in her ears. The way he’d said them. As if he was doing her a favor by staying away. If Gwyn had been herself, then maybe she would’ve just told him that staying away was doing the opposite. 

As Nesta and Emerie eventually dozed off, both of them snoring softly on either side of her on the couch—Gwyn reached for her phone. 

Her stomach twisted with discomfort as the three emojis she’d sent him laughed back at her. Just like they had every day since. Tonight, the emojis felt almost cruel. Mocking every conversation they’d shared before he disappeared.

She scrolled to the top. 

‘Is the treadmill still standing?’

It had all started with a simple little joke between them. Well, technically everything had started with Liam standing her up and Azriel showing up to save her from dying from embarrassment. But that first message, even if she hadn’t been able to admit it at the time, had made her think something else could grow between them. 

Especially as more jokes were shared. Small ones. Silly ones that would make no sense to anyone else. Small intimate moments shared over written words, but still as meaningful as if they’d been spoken verbally. Azriel had surprised her with his wit and boyish charm. She hadn’t expected it from him, not after everything Nesta had ever told her about Cassian’s brothers.  

The more she thought about it, some pieces slowly started to fall into place. More of Nesta’s description of him seeping through to the rattled parts of her brain. 

“He has always been terrible when it comes to answering his phone, but terrific at denying himself anything that could make him happy.”

Was that what had happened earlier? Had he—

Gwyn’s phone buzzed in her hands and she watched as a new message popped up. Finally replacing the three laughing emojis. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the words displayed at the bottom of her screen. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

She stared at the screen, wondering if she truly was seeing things now. Azriel had written. Apologized. 

Suddenly she was back on the patio with him, replaying the harsh conversation they’d had. His hand around her arm, keeping her from leaving. It brought fresh tears to her eyes. 

Not because he’d hurt her. 

He hadn’t. 

And not because she’d been scared. 

Not really. 

Azriel had barely touched her. His grip had been so careful, so light. The second she’d asked him to let go, he had. Immediately. 

No, the reason for her eyes tearing up again was because her body had reacted before her mind had the chance to catch up. That, for one brief second, it hadn’t been Azriel out on the patio with her. It had been someone else. Someone who wouldn’t have let go. 

And Gwyn absolutely hated that no matter how hard she had worked to overcome it, her body still responded with fear. 

She had been angry with Azriel. Frustrated. That much was true. Perhaps she still was a little bit angry. She’d meant what she said—he didn’t get to decide what was best for her. Not when it came to who she wanted in her life. 

And she wanted Azriel to stay in her life. 

But only if he wanted her to stay in his. 

Her fingers hovered over the screen, trying to think of a reply. Next to her Emerie let out a soft grunt, mumbling something incoherent before snuggling deeper into the blankets. Gwyn chanced a glance at the time. It was past two in the morning. 

She should probably wait to write back to him. At least until morning. Until she’d had time to think of a good reply and gotten some rest. 

Unfortunately, rest did not find her. The night’s events kept her exhausted body from fully relaxing. Whenever she managed to doze off, a nightmare would have her jolting back awake. 

When morning arrived, the sun shining through the thin curtains, Nesta was the first one to get up. Gwyn’s head was pounding. Her eyes burning, from all the crying and lack of sleep. She didn’t move, kept her eyes closed, hoping to still catch some sort of sleep. 

Nesta ventured into her kitchen and soon the sounds of her rummaging through the cupboards echoed softly from the other room. Along with Nesta grumbling loudly over the lack of food in the fridge. Eventually Emerie stirred next to her, tempted by the smell of coffee wafting through her apartment. 

Gwyn sat up with a small groan, eyes bleary and heart heavy, and realized she still had her phone in her hand. Had kept it close to her chest all night. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if Azriel had gotten more sleep than she had. Somehow, she doubted he had. 

Gwyn looked at his message again. He really had chosen the worst timing to approach her, and even though she had only spoken her truth—it wasn’t how she’d wanted to say it. 

“Coffee?” 

Nesta stood beside her, holding two mugs in her hands. Gwyn sighed happily as the first drop of coffee hit her tongue and the rest of the morning continued with the three of them piling up on her couch again. 

Tell them, a voice urged her from the back of her mind. Tell them everything. 

Gwyn tried to. Tried to gather enough courage to find the right words. Tried to think of her sister. Her sister who had always been so brave and would be ashamed of who Gwyn had turned into. 

A knock on her door interrupted before she could. 

“You expecting someone?” Emerie asked, looking over her shoulder at the front door. Gwyn frowned. 

“No.” 

There wasn’t anyone waiting on the other side of the door when she opened it. But as she looked down a huge bouquet of flowers rested on the floor. White lilies wrapped in brown paper, a pink ribbon tying it all together.

A card fell to the floor as she picked it up. Her heart skipped a beat. Her mind immediately went to Azriel and his text. 

But then the scent of the lilies wrapped around her like a tight leash. Grounding her in memories she had no desire to remember. Nesta and Emerie appeared behind her as she opened the card with shaking hands. 

The words staring back at her came straight out of her nightmares. 

So did the poem. 

You seemed upset yesterday. These were always your favorites.

-H 

A Lover’s dream is never clean For the broken pieces cannot heal  He gave his soul, his voice, his breath Yet she slipped beyond his path   Not a ghost, no not yet 

He whispers her name Once a song that lit the skies To see her again, he’d pay the price   Sacrifice reason. Sacrifice trust—

words: 3467 a/n: Hellooo, sorry for the little gap between posting, I've been on a bit of a writers block, but finally managed to get this chapter done and next one is halfway done, so hopefully shouldn't take too long to post. Thank for you the kind comments about Azriel's POV last chapter. We will see more of it in future chapters. But for now we're back to Gwyn. This gets a little angsty, our poor girl is going through it, and I'm afraid we'll be stuck in the angst for a little bit, but there will be good moments too soon!! I promise.

As always, enjoy! <3

“Okay, enough. Tell me what’s going on, Gwyn.” 

Gwyn snapped her head up at the mention of her name, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and met Nesta’s burning stare. She quickly locked her phone and placed it face down on the table between them. The small cafe was unexpectedly quiet for a Sunday afternoon. Soft music played around them as the girl behind the counter handed out yet another coffee to a waiting customer. A young couple sat in the corner whispering between each other, giggling and stealing touches. It was quiet. Calm. Relaxing. The perfect afternoon. 

And Gwyn was certain everyone could hear how fast her heart was beating. 

“What do you mean? Nothing is going on,” she replied quickly. Too quick.

Nesta raised one of her brows, disbelief written clear across her sharp face. Those blue-gray eyes saw straight through the mask Gwyn tried to present.

“You have checked your phone three times in less than five minutes,” she told Gwyn, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “And I can’t tell whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. So, tell me... what’s going on?” 

Nothing, Gwyn wanted to say again. Nothing was going on, and that was sort of part of the problem. 

Four days had passed since the message from the unknown number. Nothing else had followed. No explanation. No reassurance. Just that single text that she couldn’t shake. 

Still at the library? You never change. 

It should’ve been comforting. That she hadn’t gotten anything else. Instead, it left her mind swirling with endless explanations and overwhelming uncertainty. Every possible answer her poor imagination could come up was worse than the previous one. 

She kept trying to tell herself it was nothing. It had to be nothing. People sent messages to the wrong number all the time. It was just a mere coincidence that it had mentioned a library. There were tons of libraries all over the world. Velaris even had two other libraries around the city. It didn’t mean anything. A large part of her was relieved that she hadn’t gotten anything else sent to her. 

It was far easier to lean into the idea that the message was just a simple mistake. Anything else... Well, Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to think about the alternative. To acknowledge the truth that would follow if the message was in fact meant for her. It just couldn’t be. 

Still, an uneasy sense of fear kept unraveling in her chest. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it couldn’t be him. It was slowly getting harder to pretend... 

No. 

No, it was nothing. Nothing was happening. 

Just someone texting the wrong number. That was all.

“Nothing is going on,” Gwyn repeated eventually and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Nesta frowned and Gwyn forced a bright smile, pushing her anxieties away. Burying them deep within along with the rest of her worries. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to tell Nesta about the message. Keeping quiet—lying—left a sour taste in her mouth. Because Nesta would help her. Be there for her in any way that was needed. Gwyn knew that. There was no doubt about it. 

But how could she tell Nesta anything when she couldn’t even truly acknowledge the message herself? When mentioning the message outloud would make it even more real.  

“Is it about Azriel?” 

“What?” Gwyn’s large eyes widened even further. “No, of course not. Why would it be about him?” 

Nesta rolled her eyes. 

“I know you’ve been talking to him,” she declared and the pleased grin spreading across her face was impossible to miss. Gwyn opened her mouth to protest, Nesta was quicker, holding up a finger to stop her. “Ah, ah, don’t even try to pretend otherwise. I’ve seen his name on your phone more than once. You, my friend, are not very sly.” 

Gwyn’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at her phone still lying face down on the table. 

Though, to be fair, she supposed she wasn’t lying entirely to her friend. It had been four days since she got the message from the unknown number. It had also been four days since she last heard from Azriel. 

Nothing was truly going on. 

As soon as she had arrived home that day, after locking her doors, Gwyn had also turned her phone off. Had left it off until the next evening, knowing that Nesta and Emerie would send an entire task force to her apartment if they couldn’t get a hold of her for more than a day. Later, when she had settled down with a cup of tea and had a change of clothes, she sent Azriel a message asking about his day. 

And he hadn’t replied. 

At first, she didn’t think much about it. He didn’t owe her an instant response. But as time passed, Gwyn started worrying that perhaps he was upset that she hadn’t messaged him that night or the following morning. 

Then another day passed.

And another.

It felt deliberate. The silence. It was ridiculous, and Gwyn couldn’t help it—she was growing irritated with him. Which only made everything even more ridiculous. He had a life outside of their conversations. A demanding job. Friends. Family. Far more important things to do besides replying to her pointless blabbering. How could she blame him for not wanting to talk to her anymore? He was important, and she was... Gwyn was not. 

It was just... She would be the first one to admit that she wasn’t an expert when it came to socializing and building new relationships with people. But, at their age, surely you didn't just stop responding to someone? Not without at least a reasonable excuse. That’s what didn’t make sense; that he would ghost her only because she didn’t message him for a couple of hours. It couldn’t be because of that. 

And if he was that petty, that childish, then Gwyn had obviously dodged a bullet. 

Still, the silence lingered.

Even when she spent most of her day relieved that her phone stayed silent. Because a silent phone also meant there was no other message waiting for her. No messages from an unknown number.  

She hated how often she checked her phone anyway. How much she hoped to see his name in her notifications. 

It seemed trivial. Worrying over a guy texting her back, when there was a real possibility that her past had found her again and—

No. No, it was nothing. 

“We have been talking, yes,” Gwyn admitted at last, if only to stop her mind from spiraling further and taking her to places she had no desire to go. “He, uh– he hasn’t really replied in the last couple of days though.” 

To Gwyn’s surprise, Nesta laughed. 

“Yeah, that sounds like Az,” she mused, bringing her cup of coffee up to her lips and taking a sip. 

“Oh.”

“He has always been terrible when it comes to answering his phone,” Nesta explained with a small shrug. “But terrific at denying himself anything that could make him happy.” She raised both her brows this time, sending a pointed look in Gwyn’s direction and took another drink from her cup. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gwyn gasped. “We’re just talking. We’re... friends. I think.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Nesta,” she groaned, fighting the urge to slam her head into the table between them. “Please, don’t tease me right now. I’m not in the mood. I can’t–just don’t...” 

A small crinkle formed on Nesta’s forehead before she reached across the table to squeeze one of Gwyn’s hands. She hadn’t noticed they were trembling until Nesta’s warmth enveloped them. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked and the playfulness in her voice was replaced by genuine concern. “Did something else happen?” 

“No.” Gwyn shook her head, giving her a small smile, hoping it was enough to reassure her that nothing else was going on. Maybe if she smiled enough she could even reassure herself of the same thing. “No, I’m just... I’m just confused I guess.” 

“Yeah, try to not worry too much though. Az is...” Nesta began and then paused for a brief moment before continuing with a small sigh. “He’s Az. Cassian has forced him to always share his location so they know where he is and that he is alive. He has his own struggles, and deals with it his own way. Sometimes by disappearing. I’m sure he’ll get back to you soon enough.” 

It should’ve made her feel better. 

It didn’t. 

“Maybe I did something?” Gwyn questioned quietly. The disappointment she’d tried so hard to pretend she didn’t feel washed over her all at once, sharp and merciless. It seemed like the most logical reason for his silence. He’d always responded within an hour, unless he was asleep. The Azriel Nesta described didn’t fit with the one she’d been talking to. 

Had he seen her at the library and realised how sad her life was? Had he listened to her stupid rants about books and all her boring facts and realized how different their lives were? Probably. 

Gwyn didn’t know how much money Azriel made, but she’d seen the car Cassian drove and the clothes both of them wore. Whatever they earned in a month’s time—Gwyn wasn’t sure she even made the same amount in a year. 

Perhaps she should’ve expected his silence. It only made sense that he had finally realised he shouldn’t waste his time talking to her. Not that they were anything more than friends. Obviously. They hadn’t even been on a real date. 

Only... somewhere along the way, Gwyn had started to think that maybe they could be something else. Just maybe. Clearly she had been a fool. 

And she had known. Had known that it was foolish to think that. She had only been setting herself up for heartbreak. Azriel was very obviously out of her league. It was surprising it had lasted this long. Whatever they were. 

“Like what?” Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Wished him good night too many times?” 

Gwyn couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. 

“No, obviously not,” she muttered. “Maybe he just thinks I’m weird, or something.” 

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes again.

“Cut it out,” she all but barked at her. “You’re not weird. Stop thinking so poorly of yourself. Azriel should consider himself lucky that you even want to speak to him.” 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Gwyn sighed and slumped back in her seat. “I’m not even sure we’re friends and it’s not like we even went on a real date.” 

“Wasn’t it?” 

“You know it wasn’t,” she rebutted and glared at her friend.

“I told him to meet you at the restaurant and he agreed.” A coy smile spread across Nesta’s lips once again and she gave Gwyn a light shrug. “One could argue I simply set you up on a date after your original one failed to appear.” 

“It was a rescue, not a date.” 

Nesta only hummed nonchalantly at Gwyn’s quick reply and gently tossed her long braid back over her shoulder. Behind them at the register a group of teenagers had entered and disrupted the peaceful setting in the cafe. Loud laughter and boisterous conversation rang out over the soft music. But Nesta paid no attention to them as she tilted her head to the side, her blue-gray eyes still seeing far too much as she kept her full attention on Gwyn.

“Do you like him?” she asked. 

Gwyn’s face turned hotter. Did she? Yes. She did like Azriel. Maybe it could be something more between them. Maybe. But how did one even know, if someone could be more than just a friend?  The butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of those hazel eyes? Gwyn hadn’t put herself in a situation where she could even begin to explore those kinds of feelings in years. She’d only ever given her heart to one person before, and was nearly ripped apart by it. The butterflies didn’t mean anything in the end. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied and shook her head to rid herself of the dark memories trying to push through. 

“Of course it matters.” 

Gwyn had to look away then, fingers gripping the edge of her chair as her throat tightened painfully. The group of teenagers had already left the small cafe, still laughing under the pale sky. One of the boys had his arm slung around a shorter girl, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek, both of them smiling happily at each other. The same way the couple in the corner had done all afternoon. As if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if wanting someone had never ruined their life before. 

Gwyn prayed it never did. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Nesta’s expression soften slightly before she broke the silence between them. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Not particularly,” Gwyn muttered, already knowing her friend would say it anyway. A small smile tugged at Nesta’s mouth. 

“I think you’re overthinking and it’ll turn your hair gray before you turn 30.” 

“Helpful,” Gwyn huffed, followed by a humorless laugh. 

“You like him,” Nesta said, entirely undeterred. “That’s not a crime.”

“It feels a little bit like one,” Gwyn admitted before she could stop herself and Nesta went quiet, allowing her words to set between them like a ripple through the ice. Gwyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing she could take the words back. 

”Gwyn,” Nesta said carefully. ”A couple of months ago you could barely stomach the idea of going on a date.” 

”That’s a bit dramatic,” she tried to joke, a weak attempt to turn the conversation in another direction. 

”It’s true,” Nesta countered bluntly, though there was no real bite to it. ”And now you’re sitting here worried because a man hasn’t texted you back yet.” 

”It sounds incredibly sad when you put it like that,” Gwyn winced, her nose crinkled and face flushed. 

“My point is, this is all a big step for you. Deciding to put yourself out there, going on that date in the first place, talking to Azriel, letting him get to know you. All of it.” Nesta’s gaze sharpened slightly again. “So stop pretending it doesn’t matter just because it scares you. You’ve already come so far.”  

The words settled unexpectedly deep in Gwyn’s chest.

And then guilt. It slithered along her spine and unfurled in her chest like a blazing inferno. Her closest friend was sitting there, offering honesty and unconditional support, and Gwyn still hadn’t told her about the message. About the worry and fear that had been clawing at her throat for days. Perhaps the one thing she was indeed actively pretending didn’t matter. Over and over again for the past four days.  

She should tell Nesta. 

She couldn’t. 

Her phone glared at her from its place on the table. The message was still there. Taunting her with its presence even in the silence. She’d thought about deleting it. It had been her first instinct. Yet, something had stopped her from doing so. 

Still at the library? You never change. 

It could be a mistake. But... what if it wasn’t? She’d need to keep the proof. If only to prove to herself that she hadn’t made it all up in her head. Was it possible that she had already lost her mind? Succumbed to her nightmares and entered some sort of psychosis? Would it be horrible if a part of her hoped that was the case? At least that would be easier to come to terms with. 

Just like it was so much easier to focus all of her anxiety on Azriel and his lack of reply. 

When Gwyn didn’t say anything else, Nesta eventually added, “Azriel isn’t the type to waste his time talking to someone he doesn’t want to talk to. He never would’ve replied the first time if he didn’t like you, nor would he have offered to drop off your headphones for you.” 

“Then why did he stop?” she asked quietly, fidgeting with the small charm on her bracelet. 

“Because he is Azriel,” Nesta repeated with a small snort and leaned back in her seat once more. 

“That explains nothing.” 

“Oh, it explains everything, actually.” Nesta took another sip of coffee and didn’t offer up another explanation, or if she did, Gwyn simply missed it. Because her phone chose that exact moment to vibrate against the table and her whole body froze. 

She could feel the color drain from her face. Nesta must’ve noticed it too—seen how tense that single vibration had made her—because she reached across the table and snatched Gwyn’s phone before she could look at it herself.  

And Gwyn couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her thundering heartbeat. Could not breathe. Not until Nesta looked back up at her and said, “It’s Emerie. She’s gonna run a bit late, but will meet us at the gym.” 

The lump in her throat felt both lighter and heavier at the same time. Relief crashed over her at an overwhelming speed parallel to the disappointment threatening to bring her to tears. If she hadn’t already been sitting down, Gwyn feared her legs would’ve given out completely. 

Not the unknown number.

But also not Azriel. 

The conflicting feelings made her dizzy. She quickly wrapped both of her hands around her cup of coffee to have something to hold on to. It had turned cold a long time ago. It didn’t matter. Nothing was going on. She was fine. Everything was normal. No one had to know that her heart still hadn’t settled properly in her chest. 

Ridiculous. It was utterly ridiculous. To get so worked up over a stupid message from four days ago. To get so worked up over not receiving another message. To have every notification feel like the beginning of a disaster or the answer to a silent prayer. 

Nesta’s attention zeroed in on her immediately. “That,” she started  as she slid Gwyn’s phone back to her, “was an interesting reaction.” 

In that moment, Gwyn truly hated how easily Nesta saw through her. How her friend always paid such close attention to the people she loved. 

“I was just startled.” She took a sip of the cold coffee. Her mouth too dry. “That’s all.” 

“Is there something else going on, Gwyn?” True concern laced every word this time and Nesta glanced between her and the phone. “Did someone else—” 

“I’m fine!” 

It came out far sharper than she’d intended. The flash of hurt Nesta accidentally let slip was a knife to Gwyn’s already weakened heart. She was only trying to help and it was unfair of Gwyn to snap at her. She hadn’t meant to—regretted the tone immediately, even if the hurt was only there for a split second. Nesta had quickly schooled her expression back into the cunning demeanor she so often presented, instead studying her with those impossibly perceptive eyes.

Long enough that Gwyn knew she was seeing too much. Piecing things together in that sharp, unbearable way she always did. Gwyn spoke again before Nesta could say anything. “I’m sorry. I didn’t... I’m just overthinking things, remember?” 

Nesta eyed her suspiciously for a moment longer before nodding. 

“Alright,” she said, though the look on her face made it clear she didn’t believe her for a second. 

Neither of them spoke for some time after that. The low murmur of the café filled the silence again instead, along with the distant hiss of steaming milk behind the counter.

She had to get her act together. Sooner rather than later. There had been no other message. That had to mean it was no big deal. Worrying about it was pointless. Worry about Azriel was even more pointless. Nesta was probably right anyway. She knew Az. Had known him for far longer than Gwyn had. He was probably just busy. He’d text her back whenever he had the time. 

Eventually, Nesta let out a dramatic sigh and stood up, pulling her jacket off the back of her chair. “C’mon, let’s just head to the gym early. If we sit here any longer, I’m gonna start psychoanalyzing you against my better judgement.” 

Gwyn laughed softly, despite her wretched state of mind. 

“That does sound like a horrible time for both of us.” 

“It does,” she agreed, pulling her gym bag over her head and letting it rest across her chest. She paused and then shot Gwyn another pointed look. “If something is wrong, Gwyn, you can tell me. I’m here for you. So is Em.” 

Gwyn only nodded once. Blinking to hold back tears. 

“I know.” 

And she did. Truly. 

That was the worst part. 

words: 2953 a/n: Finally back with another chapter, took a bit longer this time between posts, life got in the way and honestly, I wasn't very happy with it and had do to major edits and I still don't know how I feel about it... BUT Azriel's pov is finally here!! I would love to hear your thoughts on it since I struggled a bit with getting it to a place I felt good enough to post, so please let me know!! Calm my anxious writer heart lmao

anyways, enjoy getting to know Az a bit more, it is perhaps slightly angsty so apologies for that haha <3

Azriel had always been a terrible texter.

Most of the time he would read a message and simply forget to reply. No. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Most of the time he just didn’t see the point in replying. 

If something was important, people called. 

If it wasn’t, the conversation usually dissolved into a dozen pointless replies anyway—messages that disappeared into the endless stream of notifications on his phone. He spent enough time answering emails and writing reports at work. The idea of continuing the same meaningless exchanges through a screen had always felt like a waste of time.

His phone usually stayed face down on his desk while he worked, forgotten beneath stacks of contracts and non-disclosure agreements. 

Until recently.

Until her. 

Now, he could not stop checking his phone. 

And Azriel tried his hardest not to. But no matter how often he told himself to leave it alone, his eyes still fell to the dark screen every few minutes, waiting for that stupid notification to appear.

It was a ridiculous habit to suddenly develop at his age. 

There were far more important things to worry about. Across from him, Cassian had been talking for the better part of ten minutes—going over project timelines and investment strategies—and Azriel couldn’t recall a single thing he had said. Which was far from ideal when they had a meeting with new investors in less than fifteen minutes.

The only thing he could think about was the beautiful woman with copper hair and bright teal eyes. 

The small tour around the library yesterday kept replaying in his mind, pushing its way forward whenever he tried to focus on the spreadsheet glowing across his computer screen.

The way Gwyn had laughed at his lousy attempt at a joke about the dragon. The soft crinkle of her nose when she found something amusing. How at peace she looked when she talked about her books, and the blush that spread across her cheeks when she thought she had been talking too much.

Azriel would perhaps never admit it outloud, but he quite liked listening to her voice going on and on about whatever crossed her mind. 

Actually, he shouldn’t ever admit that. 

Not to anyone. 

Certainly not to Gwyn. 

He was already pushing it too far, messaging her as much as he was. Nothing good could come from it. 

It would be smart to just stop now. Before he inevitably ruined it and she realized she’d be far better off without him in her life. 

Nesta had only asked him for a simple favor—get your ass to Meira’s Garden and pretend you are Gwyn’s date and be nice! It was never supposed to be anything more than that. 

Azriel was never supposed to visit her at work or learn about her disastrous attempts at knitting. Wasn’t supposed to show up at the restaurant and meet someone as kind and funny as Gwyn. Then learn that beneath it all something was haunting her. 

She tried to hide it, and she was good at it. Azriel still saw her flinch whenever someone laughed a little too loud or walked a little too close to where she was. The sudden firmness to her voice when she insisted on paying for everything herself… there was something behind that. Something darker than she let on.

Every explanation his mind offered left a burning knot in his stomach.

And yet, despite everything he kept telling himself, a part of him still wanted to know why she spent so much time always looking over her shoulder. Why a part of her always seemed to be somewhere else. 

Too lost in his own head, Azriel didn’t notice when Cassian’s attention drifted away from all the colorful graphs and landed squarely on him.

Not until it was too late.

“You’re doing it again.” 

It was the way Cassian spoke that made Azriel realize the comment was meant for him. The clear, efficient timbre of his voice changed, turning into something far more juvenile. Something lighter. It was the too familiar and melodious tone that told him his brother was about to be a massive pain in the ass. 

“Doing what?” Azriel replied flatly, not bothering to look up from his screen. Still, from the corner of his eye, he caught Cassian leaning back in his chair, sharing a conspiratorial look with Rhysand

“That thing,” Cassian said with a smirk, waving a lazy hand in Azriel’s direction. “Where you look like someone just asked you to solve world peace.” 

“I’m working,” he scoffed. 

Cassian let out a loud snort. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“He’s right,” Rhys quipped without bothering to look up from the tablet in his hands. Azriel bit down on the inside of cheek. 

“I’m reviewing the numbers before we sit down with the investors. Someone here has to make sure we don’t go into this blind.” 

And maybe he could’ve convinced them if Cassian’s presentation wasn’t already immaculate. 

Or more importantly—if his phone hadn’t chosen that exact moment to buzz against the glass table, pulling his attention straight to the bright screen.

Cassian didn’t miss a beat. 

“Who’s the girl?” 

“No one.” 

Azriel glanced at his phone again, fighting the urge to reach for it and check the notification. Across the table, Cassian’s grin only widened.

“C’mon, Az,” he said, clearly far too pleased with where the conversation was heading. “You’ve been glued to that phone for weeks now. It’s not like you.” 

“That’s not true,” Azriel lied, making sure to keep his expression as emotionless as possible and giving both of his brothers a dead-panned look. 

“You have been looking at your phone more than usual,” Rhys hummed and lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Even Feyre noticed it last Sunday.” 

Cassian tilted his head to the side. 

“Is it Gwyn?” 

The name landed on the table between them like a stone dropped into still water.

Azriel’s fingers stilled over the keyboard in front of him, hovering above the keys as if he had suddenly forgotten how to use them. It was the only reaction Azriel let slip before taking a steadying breath.

How Cassian knew was beyond him.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, the answer was pretty obvious. He should’ve known his future sister-in-law wouldn’t keep her observations to herself.  

He willed his expression to remain perfectly neutral, refusing to admit they were right. That he was indeed acting like a love-sick teenage boy waiting for his crush to send him a message. 

Unfortunately, his silence was enough of an answer. 

As Rhys finally looked up from his tablet, he arched a dark brow as his sharp eyes moved between the two of them. 

“Nesta’s friend?” he asked with a renewed interest in the discussion, his mouth curving slightly. “The one you had that dinner with?” 

Cassian didn’t wait for Azriel to respond.

“I knew it!” he barked and the triumphant laugh that followed bounced around the room. 

Azriel rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair, grinding his teeth to keep himself from accidentally saying more than he was willing to admit. 

“You know nothing.”

“I told you,” Cassian continued, ignoring him entirely as he turned to Rhys. “You should’ve seen him when she showed up at Nes’ place a couple weeks ago. Couldn’t stop staring at her.” 

“We’re friends.” Azriel dragged a hand across his jaw before reaching for a folder next to him, flipping it open as if its content had suddenly caught his interest. 

“Sure,” Cassian snorted once more and leaned forward again, relentless and eager. “When are you asking her out on a proper date?” 

“Never.” 

The word cut the teasing atmosphere in half. Cassian’s grin fell and Rhysand let a long sigh fill the space between them. If he could, Azriel would gather up his stuff and leave. “She’s Nesta’s friend. We talk sometimes,” he continued with the same shortness. “That’s all.” 

“Az.” 

The playfulness in Cassian was replaced by a hint of exasperation. Azriel kept looking at the contract in front of him, though he had not read a single word. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been talking to her every day for weeks.”

“And?” Azriel turned a page that did not need turning.

“And,” Cassian said slowly, as if the answer was written across his face, “if anyone told me you were willingly replying to their texts, I would call them a liar straight to their face.” 

Rhys took the opportunity to put down his tablet and rested his elbows on the table. 

“I believe what Cass is trying to say,” he began calmly, like Az was no more than an easily spooked animal. “You usually ignore messages until people threaten to show up at your office.”

“That, or I have to call you at least a dozen times to make sure you’re still alive.” 

Azriel couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, and placed the folder back down with careful precision. The heaviness in his chest was growing rapidly and making his skin crawl. 

“We’re friends,” he repeated with as much coolness as he could muster and shuffled some papers around. It came out even weaker than the first time. Thinner and more vulnerable than he would’ve liked. 

Rhysand gave him a leveled look. 

“You keep saying that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

Azriel brushed him off. Their meeting was about to start in a couple of minutes. If he just stayed silent, the conversation would be over soon. Then he could go home and continue to ignore the truth laid bare before him. 

He tried to find something—anything—else to focus on. His gaze drifted towards the large windows overlooking the city. To the endless sky outside. 

Thin clouds stretched across the blue like gentle brushstrokes, drifting lazily above the rooftops of Velaris. For a moment he let his attention settle there instead, on something distant and uncomplicated.

His mind returned to Gwyn anyway. 

To her bright eyes. To her sweet laugh. The scatter of freckles across her skin. The constellations he suspected only revealed themselves if someone looked closely enough.

“What’s the problem with asking her out?”

Cassian’s voice pulled him back the rest of the way. 

“There is no problem,” Azriel replied through clenched teeth.  

“Then why–”

“I’m not going to,” he interrupted. 

Cassian opened his mouth like he might argue, then seemed to think better of it and slumped back with a quiet huff.

Rhys didn’t speak right away. His gaze lingered on Azriel a second longer than necessary, sharp and assessing in the way that always made Azriel feel like he was being meticulously dissected.

“We’re not interrogating you,” he said after a moment. 

“Feels like it,” he scoffed, picking up a pen and rolling it between his fingers, just to give his hands something to do. 

Cassian exhaled through his nose.

“Look, I’m just saying... Gwyn’s nice.”

Nice. 

The word seemed wrong. Not enough. Yet, he could not bring himself to voice any other word that came to mind. Not even to himself. 

The one thing that was absolutely certain, what he knew to be true, was that no matter what word someone used to describe Gwyn; she was too good for most people. 

It was unfair. Wrong even. To allow himself to get tangled up with someone like her. If any of his suspicions were even a little bit true, Gwyn didn’t need him to take up space in her life. She deserved someone as brilliant and devoted as Rhys. Someone like Cassian, who could win over an entire room with nothing more than a crooked smile and a brazen joke. Someone who could match her easy warmth and beauty. 

“I know she is.” 

“Ah, so you admit you like her?” 

“Fuck off, Cass.” 

Azriel took a long and deep breath, schooling himself back into his carefully designed indifference. He had learned a long time ago that showing too much would only get him battered and bruised.      

When he finally turned back to his brothers, Rhysand was already watching him with that quiet, subtle look that had unnerved half the city’s business elite at one point or another.

“For what it’s worth,” he suggested slowly, “it’s not the worst thing.”

Azriel frowned slightly.

“What isn’t?” 

“Getting to know someone.” 

The air shifted suddenly and the icy look he shot his brother came from deep within. Cassian felt the change too, his returning grin immediately dropping again. Rhys continued softly, ”it’s been two years since—” 

”Don’t.” Azriel tightened the grip on the pen still in his hand, averting his gaze away from both his brothers. Shame slithering through his veins from his reaction. They meant well, he knew that, even if they were a pain in his ass. 

It was just… It was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. Not before a meeting. Not ever. He was over it. 

”Az, we just-” 

”It’s fine,” Azriel muttered as he straightened up and pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing the small lump forming in his throat. ”Let’s just focus on this meeting now.” 

”Alright,” Rhys nodded after a brief pause and picked up his tablet. ”Keir is going to want to take the lead and control the narrative.” 

”Of course he is,” Cassian rolled his eyes. 

“We’ll adjust accordingly. Let him play his play and we play ours,” Rhys hummed, his features steady and calculating. ”We know Tarquin Summers won’t sign anything without knowing the risks involved, and his company…”  

Azriel stopped listening again. He didn’t mean to. Truly. It was an important meeting and he should be more active in their preparations. His attention just… slipped. The unread notification on his phone pulled at it like a moth to a flame. 

It might not even be from Gwyn. It could be anything else. Be from anyone. 

But despite the heavy urge to reach over and look at his phone, Azriel refrained. At least for a while. Because checking it would only give his brothers another reason to pester him about it later. 

It was safer to just forget about it. 

An impossible task. 

Unease kept spreading through him with every minute that passed. More than usual. The last message Gwyn had sent him was from before he’d visited her at work yesterday. Something about the printer at the library, followed by a picture of said printer with a sticky note attached to the side. An angry face drawn poorly across the note. 

He’d messaged her back that the machine looked ready to be retired. 

To which she had replied with three laughing emojis. 

And he hadn’t heard anything else since then. Not since they’d said goodbye at the library. 

Azriel glanced at his phone again. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t explain why. Other than the fact that, Gwyn should’ve sent something by now. 

A joke. 

A complaint about work. 

A good night message. 

It wasn’t like her. The silence. 

Obviously, he hadn’t known her for that long and it wasn’t like she owed him a message or anything. Azriel wasn’t even sure he could call them friends. Still, Gwyn had made it a habit to text him before bed and then again in the morning. 

He had made it a habit to respond. 

Not hearing from her... 

Fuck it, Azriel thought to himself before swiping his phone off the table and unlocking it. One notification waited for him and his heart dropped. 

Not from her. Not Gwyn. 

Only Feyre. A reminder he’d promised to help her with one of her art projects that evening. 

He blocked out the disappointment trying to take root and exhaled slowly, setting his phone down again. Of course it wasn’t from her. 

Maybe he had crossed a line yesterday. Showing up at her work uninvited. Invading her space without any warning. He hadn’t really thought twice about it. Hadn’t hesitated when he told Nesta he’d go get Gwyn’s headphones and bring them to her. 

Maybe he should have. 

He should’ve known better. Should’ve known that the easy laughter between them was imaginary. Gwyn wouldn’t tell him to his face that he made her uncomfortable. She’d smile through it instead. Pretend it was fine just to avoid making things tense or causing a scene. 

The realization settled heavily in his chest as he watched Rhys stand and gather his tablet along with a stack of reports. Cassian followed, closing his own laptop and pushing back his chair. Both of them fully prepared and in the right mindset for the meeting about to start in the conference room next door.

Azriel stayed seated. Not trusting his legs to fully carry him yet. 

He was a fool. 

A damn fool.  

Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a short squeeze, before leaving the room. It startled him into action and he gathered his own things. The concerned frown from Cassian felt like a punch to the face. 

But Az ignored it and got up, grabbing his phone and shoving it deep into his pockets. Pushing it all down, down, down. 

The three laughing emojis from the now silent thread of messages flashed before him. Laughed at him from beneath the layers keeping them from sight. Taunting and loud even in the dark. 

Azriel rolled his shoulders, shaking it off, and followed his brothers into the conference room.  

It didn’t matter. 

He’d let it all go. Take a step back. 

The only thing that mattered was that he didn’t make things worse. He should’ve kept his distance from the start. It was never supposed to get this far anyway. He’d let himself believe in things that weren’t meant for him. 

Gwyn certainly wasn’t. 

words: 2660 a/n: Alright, this is probably the heaviest chapter of the story so far, and likely the heaviest overall. Our girl Gwyn is not having a good time. As always, I'm a little nervous to post this one, but I really appreciate all your comments and support. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!<3

A lot of Gwyn's past is finally revealed in this chapter, so I do want to include some trigger warnings: -Domestic violence -Physical abuse/violence -Sexual coercion and brief references to sexual violence -Emotional abuse and manipulation -Anxiety/panic attack

Most of these moments appear in flashbacks, which are written in italics. So if you'd prefer to skip, just skip those sections. Take care of yourselves<3

The bouquet slipped from Gwyn’s hands and landed on the floor with a dull thud. One of the lilies snapped from the impact, white petals scattering against the wood. Around her, Nesta and Emerie said something. She could hear their voices, not enough to put the words together though—both of them too muffled under the roaring in her head. 

All Gwyn could do was stare at the flowers. Stare at the card that confirmed everything she had tried to deny. The sweet and flowery scent crawled into her lungs, thick and suffocating, and it was impossible to block out every memory that came with it. 

There had been so many flowers. Too many. 

At first, Gwyn’s belly had swarmed with butterflies. 

The small bell above the door chimed softly, announcing a new customer’s entrance.  The diner had been busy all morning, even worse during lunch hours, but was slowly calming down. Gwyn hadn’t been able to sit down and rest her feet since her shift started. Blisters had already formed under her feet a long time ago. It had been a terrible idea to wear her new sneakers that morning. 

She finally got the chance to take a break, only to be disturbed, and she couldn’t stop the groan that fell from her lips. Annoyed, she plastered on her most charming smile—the one that gave her the most tips—and turned around to face whoever had entered. 

Beautiful honey brown eyes, full of amusement, met her teal ones. Gwyn’s face burned and she wiped her hands on her apron before brushing the loose strands from her ponytail behind her ears. Praying silently that she didn’t look as tired as she felt. 

“Hayden,” she breathed out, “Hi.” 

A big smile stretched across his face as he took in her flustered appearance. Gods, he was so handsome. With his windswept hair falling perfectly across his forehead and deliciously muscular body standing tall and wide before her. 

”Bad time?” he chuckled as he walked up the counter. Gwyn quickly shook her head, the smile she had forced before now true and bright. 

“Not at all,” she beamed and pressed her lips together in an attempt to hold back her smile at least a little bit. It had only been a month since they met for the first time. Since he had waltzed  right in and set a swarm of butterflies free in her stomach. 

A month since he had started showing up every day, ordering the same cup of coffee and lingering far longer than any other customer—just so he could talk to her. Smooth and charming and utterly captivating. 

Gwyn had fallen immediately, and when he’d finally asked her on a date a week ago—she had agreed embarrassingly fast. Catrin would’ve laughed herself sick from how painfully obvious she’d been. 

“Good,” Hayden smiled easily and presented her with a small bouquet of flowers Gwyn hadn’t even realised he’d been hiding behind his back. “Because I wanted to surprise you.”

Handsome, charming and kind Hayden. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. People at the diner turned to look at them, and perhaps she imagined it, but Gwyn swore jealousy swam in their eyes as they ogled Hayden and his sweet gesture. 

Gwyn wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was hers.

She didn’t anymore. 

Could barely stomach the idea that she had once felt that way. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet she remembered it all so clearly. Every sweet gesture. Every charming smile and his encouragement. 

Only two months after their first date, Gwyn had moved in with him. 

She had opened up about her goal of earning a bachelor's degree in English and her dream of publishing a novel one day. About her insecurities of starting university at twenty-three. Of being older than everyone else. Of not having enough money.

Had even told him about the life she’d lived after the loss of her mom and sister. The path of destruction she’d ended up on. The guilt. The loneliness. 

Hayden had immediately offered her to move in with him. Convinced her to let him help her. 

”You don’t have to pay any rent. You’re my girl, I want to wake up next to you every day. It’s a win-win.” 

He had made it all so easy. Smiled so easily. Gwyn had smiled back. Had not questioned anything. 

”Gwyn!” 

Suddenly Nesta stood in front of her, physically shaking her out of her stupor with a steady grip of her shoulders. Gwyn blinked and only then realized her cheeks were wet with tears. 

”Throw them out,” she whispered and her voice trembled in line with the rest of her body. Nesta frowned and tightened her hold, trying to keep Gwyn grounded. An impossible task when one part of her was back in the past. When something inside her had cracked wide open, allowing buried memories to rush violently to the surface. 

”Who is Balthazar?" 

Gwyn stopped her humming and glanced up from her textbook. Soft piano music filled the large apartment around her, calming her anxious thoughts as the deadline for her assignment came closer. 

Hayden stood across the table from her. Dressed immaculately as always in his finely pressed shirt and pants for work. The complete opposite to Gwyn in her sweatpants and stained t-shirt. Her greasy hair in a messy bun, half of it up and half of it down. 

“What?” she asked and let out a soft chuckle. “A guy from class.” 

“Why are you talking to him?” 

“What do you mean? We’re in the same class,” Gwyn said and the pen she’d been twirling between her fingers stilled when she noticed Hayden had her phone in one of his hands. “Did you look through my phone?” 

Something dark passed over his eyes at that. It had her shrinking back briefly before she scowled at him. ”You have no right to do that.” 

Hayden didn’t back down. Ignored her entirely as he glared at her accusingly. 

”Are you cheating on me?” 

“Are you serious?” Gwyn gaped at him and stood up so swiftly she knocked over her cup of tea, spilling it all over her books. “Shit.” 

“Answer the question!” His loud outburst sent vibrations through her bones and Gwyn froze in the midst of trying to rescue all of her notes. When she met his stormy gaze, she forced herself to swallow the lump forming in her throat. 

“Of course I’m not cheating on you, H,” she told him slowly. “He’s a friend. We study together. A bunch of us.” 

“I don’t see you texting anyone else this much,” he shot back at her coldly and gestured to her phone still in his possession. “Is that why you’re always at the library? All those late nights studying, you’re just fucking someone else, huh?” 

“What’s gotten into you?” Gwyn asked and searched his eyes for a hint of that warm honey brown she loved so much. There was none. “I’m not cheating on you! He is just a friend, and he—” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Hayden roared at her. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“No, Hayden.” She shook her head, taking half a step toward him. He reared back, disgust clearly written across his face, and something broke inside her at the sight. At the rage in his voice. ”I-I don’t think that at all. Balthazar is just a good friend. I promise.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure he is,” he sneered. Sarcasm and disbelief dropping off every word. 

Gwyn blinked away the sudden tears. 

”Hayden, please, what’s going on?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Instead Gwyn’s eyes widened as he threw her phone across the room and stormed off, slamming the front door behind him as he left the apartment. 

Hayden had returned later that night, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes as he crawled into bed. He’d held her close, whispered apologies and promised he would pay to have her broken phone fixed. Had blamed his cheating ex for the paranoia that sometimes took control of him. Had told Gwyn that he was just scared, hurt, and how much he loved her. 

How he never wanted to lose her. 

Gwyn had believed him. Understood how those insecurities could sometimes cloud someone’s better judgment. 

Had understood it the second time he looked through her phone. 

And the third time. 

The fourth time though, she told him he needed to stop taking her phone. 

Hayden didn’t give it back until the next morning that time. 

Then somehow, she gave him her phone freely whenever she came back home. Gave it to him to look through. To keep. 

At the time, Gwyn had just told herself that it was easier that way. 

“Hey, you need to talk to us. Gwyn.” Nesta gently cupped her face and wiped away some of the tears. “What is going on?”  

“I... He—Hayden… I can’t…” 

“Your ex?” Emerie came up, placing a careful but comforting hand on her back. Before her, Nesta straightened and her eyes sharpened on Gwyn’s crumbling form. 

“Is this the first time he made contact with you?” she asked and Gwyn couldn’t stop the whimper that pushed its way up her throat. More tears fell as she shook her head. Nesta breathed in deeply. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“I couldn’t,” Gwyn managed to croak out. 

“It’s okay,” Emerie mumbled, stroking her back up and down. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.” 

“He will.” 

“We won’t let him,” Nesta said firmly. 

Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut, willing all the memories to stop. Praying silently that it was all just a dream. Another nightmare. She would wake up soon, still asleep on the couch with her two best friends snuggling next to her. Wake up and everything would go back to as it was. 

No dates. No weird texts. No unanswered messages. No old relatives. No flowers. Nothing. 

“Can’t we just order something?” Gwyn asked and turned around to face Hayden in their kitchen. He scoffed roughly. 

“You’ve been home all day,” he said, jaw clenched and shirt collar popped from when he’d loosened it a minute ago. “You could’ve prepared something.” 

“I didn’t have the time. Midterms are coming up, our exam is this Friday and if I don’t pass—” 

“I work all fucking day, Gwyn,” Hayden cut her off. “I pay our bills, our food and all your stupid textbooks, the least you can do is have dinner ready on the table when I get home.”  

“And I told you I could get my own books, but you insisted,” Gwyn retorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I understand that your job is important, but so is my exam.” 

“Oh so it’s my fault then?” Hayden chided coldly. Gwyn didn’t even notice how close he had gotten until she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. “It’s my fault our home is such a mess and we never have dinner prepped in time.” 

“I never said that,” Gwyn snapped back. “I’m just saying that right now I have a lot on my plate and I really need to pass this exam. You won’t let me study with my friends at the—” 

It happened quickly. So quick that she could almost convince herself it had never happened. 

One second she was trying to explain. 

The next her ears were ringing. Her face burning. 

Silence filled the whole apartment as Hayden looked down at his own hand—the hand that had slapped her across the face—his eyes wide with horror. Gwyn didn’t dare move. Couldn’t even if she wanted to. 

“Gwyn, baby, I…”  

Gwyn remembered she had been the one to apologize first. That time and all that came after. 

She had failed the exam the following Friday. Had dropped out of school all together a month later. Lost all her friends because she wouldn’t text them back. Or rather, couldn’t text them back since Hayden had her phone most of the time. 

He had promised to never do it again. Hit her. Like everything else—it had been a lie. There had been flowers. Always lilies and baby’s breath. He’d apologize and promise it would never happen again. 

Then she’d do something wrong, say something wrong, or do nothing… and it would happen again. 

On the bright side of things, losing all her friends meant she never had to explain the bruises to anyone. Never had to make up lies or excuses. 

But, it also meant she had no one but Hayden. 

There was no one that could help her. Hayden had given her a home. Paid for her books. Her clothes. Her phone. The food she made sure was waiting for him whenever he came home from work.

He said he loved her. That he was the only one who did. 

So Gwyn had stayed. 

Stayed as the bruises grew. Stayed as he took her to bed and undressed her even though she’d told him she was tired. Stayed as he told her she’d be nothing without him. 

She had stayed because she had no one else and she owed him for all he had done for her. Because he locked her in the apartment and she had no phone. No money. 

Because she probably deserved it all anyway. 

“What do you need, Gwyn?” Emerie asked and she opened her teary eyes, coming face to face with both her fierce friends. “We’re here.” 

“I didn’t think…” Her throat tightened painfully. “I didn’t think he’d ever actually find me... I’m so stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid,” Nesta replied quickly. “You are brave and kind and smart and we won’t let him hurt you.” 

“You are not alone,” Emerie added. “Whatever you need—we got you.” 

It was all it took for Gwyn’s knees to finally give up. Her strength collapsed under the heavy sobs that broke free from her chest and she fell to the floor. 

Nesta and Emerie followed, holding her close between them as she wept. Neither of them made any attempts to get her to move or talk. They just sat with her, letting the grief and fear from the past three years spill out of her. Sat with her and dried her tears using the end of their sleeves. Said nothing when all their legs turned numb from the awkward position they were in. 

It took more than an hour before her sobs finally died down and turned into small sniffles instead. It was then that her friends helped her back to her feet and guided her to the couch. Tucked her in under all the blankets the same way they had the night before and sat down with her. 

“You are mine, Gwyn. You’ll always be mine..” 

Hayden’s voice rang through her mind again. Once, she’d found it sweet. How he claimed her for everyone to see. Since then, she’d learned it had never been more than a threat. A promise that he’d always find her. 

“He’s gonna kill me,” she said quietly and swallowed the sob that threatened to come back out again. Her friends tensed beside her and Nesta moved so she could sit straighter. 

“Gwyn, you need to tell us everything,” she urged and threw Emerie a quick and worried look. “We are here for you, and nothing will ever change that. But we need to know everything so we can help you. Really, truly help you.” 

“She’s right,” Emerie nodded slowly and reached out to squeeze Gwyn’s hand. “Let us help you. You told us before that he was controlling and manipulating, right?” 

“Right,” Gwyn mumbled and tried to pull her hand back. Emerie held fast. 

“We won’t let you go through this alone,” Nesta affirmed and took her other hand. “You can tell us.” 

Gwyn glanced between her friends. Her strong and beautiful friends. 

She didn’t deserve them. 

Still, she had them. They had her. 

She took a deep and long breath, and then she told them. 

words: 3481 a/n: I would love to hear any thoughts you guys have after reading this part, what you think it means or what will happen next. Things are only picking up from here on. Things are not what they seem.

Let me know your thoughts! Drop a comment, like and reblog. It would mean the world to me <3

Work at the library was getting busier. With mid-terms coming up at Velaris University, every table in the three story building was occupied by frantic students. Groups flocked in to finish their projects and read every book they could get their hands on. They arrived early, traces of sleep still clinging to their faces, and didn’t leave until the sun had gone down; more exhausted than when they’d come in.

Gwyn welcomed the chaos. The students lining up in front of the reference desk kept her busy. Kept her from thinking about the peculiar conversation she’d had with Azriel two weeks ago. There was no time to think about the small smiles and the flushed cheeks, how he remembered everything she’d told him or how he showed genuine interest in the book she was reading. 

How he’d retreated into the bathroom and then left altogether a couple minutes later—hardly sparing her a glance. How she hadn’t seen or heard anything about him since. 

No, she didn’t have time to think about it... That much. 

Between fixing the broken printer and dealing with noise complaints, Gwyn almost managed to avoid thinking about it. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, the memory of his smooth voice still had a way of slipping through all the noise.  

She had contemplated asking Nesta about him, but ultimately decided it would be better to not let her friend know just how much space he was taking up in her mind. 

It was a sure way to bring on another scheme from her friends. No doubt, they would immediately find a way to get her in the same room as him again, and Gwyn wanted the next time she saw him to be on her terms. 

If she ever would see him again, that is. 

Gwyn scoffed at herself and refocused on the task in front of  her. A cart of returned books was waiting for her attention, abandoned by Roslin—who had been called away to help with the printer once again. With a soft exhale, she pushed every thought of Azriel Singer to the back of her mind, and wheeled the cart towards the small lift. 

Happy to be moving about again. 

To give herself a break from herself. 

The history section was on the second floor, tucked away in the corner, away from the tall windows facing the streets below. It was quieter than the first floor that had the reference desk and the third floor with all that open space for groups to gather and study together. Instead, the second floor had the study rooms, booked weeks in advance, and small tables that had been placed methodically to offer privacy and stillness. 

It had been her favorite place when she first started working at the library. When she needed all that stillness to get through the day. 

Now the quiet only gave her room to think. She should have taken Roslin’s offer to fix the damn printer instead. Even if she’d already repaired it at least three times since that morning. 

But she threw herself into the work, reading each title twice before sliding it into its proper place. Aligning the spines. Adjusting the spacing. Focusing more than necessary so her thoughts wouldn’t wander off to places they did not belong. 

She was interrupted only once by a girl with long blond hair and smudged eyeliner, asking for help to find a book on Norse mythology. Gwyn was more than happy for the distraction and ended up pressing four additional recommendations into the girl’s arms before sending her on her way.

When she returned to her cart, it felt easier to rely on muscle memory rather than thought as she continued shelving the books.

Until a certain title caught her eye.

And her heart dropped.

Prythian Poetry.

It did not belong in the history section. It had not been on her cart earlier. 

Or... at least, she didn’t think it had. 

Her mind scrambled to remember if she had seen it amongst the thick piles of history books being returned. Had she simply just missed it? She wouldn’t. Surely. 

But, books were sorted wrong all the time, or students abandoned them mindlessly all over the library. And Gwyn’s attention was not at its best. 

A simple mistake. An everyday occurrence.

Still, her hands trembled as she reached for it, tracing her fingers over the bold title lightly. She’d read it so many times. Too many to count. 

It had been years since she last saw it.

The ends of a golden ribbon marker peaked out at the bottom. Resting between the off-white pages near the end of the book. Her fingers itched to see what poem the last reader had marked.

She shouldn’t.

She knew she shouldn’t.

But Gwyn tugged gently on the ribbon and opened the book. She’d always been too curious. 

It fell easily to the marked page.

The letters blurred for a moment before settling into words she knew all too well.

A Lover’s dream is never clean

For the broken pieces cannot heal 

He gave his soul, his voice, his breath 

Yet she slipped— 

She couldn’t read the rest. Her breath locked in her throat as she slammed the book shut. The sound echoed too loudly, far sharper than she had intended. The force shuddered through her bones, almost knocking her to the ground.

A few feet away, someone shifted in their chair and Gwyn forced her shoulders to relax. Forced herself to not follow the thread of old memories tugging at her.

It was just a poem.

Just a coincidence.

Her pulse thudded stubbornly in her ears as she set the collection of poems back on the cart. Every move was careful and deliberate; as if precision alone could prove her indifference.

She would check the circulation log later.

Or maybe she wouldn’t.

It didn’t matter.

It was nothing.

Only a collection of Prythian poetry. A classic. Obviously a copy would exist in the library. There was probably more than one. There was nothing strange about it. Just a coincidence it had been marked on that specific poem. 

Gwyn pushed it all to the back of her mind. Went back to aligning spines to perfection. Adjusting the space between every book. Read every title and summary on the back of all the books to keep her thoughts at bay. Desperately tried to think of hazel eyes and the steady presence that came with them. 

And failed. 

Instead of a steady hazel, her mind was filled with nothing but icy blue. 

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The rest of her shift passed by in a blur. She smiled when it was required. Nodded at the right moments. Feigned interest in Roslin’s story of her new girlfriend. Ignored the sour taste in her mouth as the realization settled—another person in her life had found love.

She reshelved and logged returns with mechanical precision, but did not look up Prythian Poetry in the system. It was only a book, and she would not give into her silly paranoia. No good would come of it. 

When the closing announcement finally echoed through the building, Gwyn felt something close to relief. 

For the last hour, she had counted down the minutes until she could go home, make tea, curl beneath a heap of blankets, and lose herself in something safe. Until she could pretend that nothing about her day had been out of the ordinary. 

As she stepped outside, though, the thought of going home to her silent apartment did nothing to settle the unease coiling beneath her skin. 

Instead, she turned in the opposite direction of her home, heading toward the gym instead. 

She needed to move, because going home meant the restlessness would simmer until it became unbearable. 

Instead, she’d burn it out. Sweat and push until her limbs were trembling because of sheer exhaustion and nothing else. 

The gym was busier than she’d expected for a weeknight. Music pulsed from the speakers, bass vibrating through the floor beneath her trainers. The scent of rubber mats and metal weights wrapped around her as she scanned her membership card and stepped inside.

Good.

Noise. Movement. Distraction.

Exactly what she needed.

Gwyn headed straight for the treadmills after getting changed, setting a pace that was faster than usual. Fast enough so she couldn’t think too hard. Fast enough that her lungs began to burn within minutes.

It helped.

A little.

Then, when her legs felt like lead, she moved on to the weights. Thankful that the people around her were far too focused on themselves to notice her almost tripping over her own two feet. She was tired, but not enough to go home just yet. 

Drops of sweat ran down the side of her face and along her spine. She met her own reflection in the mirror, two dumbbells in hand and cheeks flushed in a color that nearly matched the copper tones of her hair. 

Movement flickered in the corner of her eyes. At first she didn’t think twice about it, the gym was crowded by different people stepping between machines or reaching for a towel, but… the dark lines of ink on warm skin caught the light, and her stomach dropped in quiet recognition.

Azriel. 

Of course. 

Her fingers tightened slightly around the weights as she allowed herself a longer look. He stood a few machines away, focused entirely on the barbell in front of him. Sleeves pushed up, head slightly bowed, hair falling forward just enough to shadow his eyes. 

She looked away as he turned and positioned himself on the bench below the barbell. He wore a pair of black shorts to match his top, and her pulse stuttered as she caught a glimpse of the firm muscle in his thighs.

For a moment, she considered running away. To just pretend she hadn’t seen him. She could finish her set and leave without ever acknowledging his presence. Easy. Safe. 

Something kept her frozen. Whether it was the results of her disorienting day or her desires to understand him better, Gwyn wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just too tired to run again. 

Another glance over to his side of the gym confirmed he had still not seen her, too lost in his own workout and whatever was on his mind. The familiar instinct to run sat heavy in her chest, screaming at her to retreat into the changing room, to escape every complicated thought that followed Azriel Singer. 

And yet… yet, she could not bring herself to listen to it. 

Because she had seen something in him the last time. Something more than pretty eyes and kindness. 

She’d always been too curious. 

Her decision was made, just like that, and she dropped the dumbbells back onto the rack and made her way across the gym, approaching the perplexing man with timid steps. She wiped her sweaty palms against her leggings and took a steadying breath. 

“Azriel?” She cleared her throat once to make sure he heard her. Something in him stiffened before his eyes lifted to meet hears. She gave him a faint smile. “Hello.” 

For a brief moment, Gwyn feared he would ignore her when his only response was to blink at her, as if she was a ghost who’d appeared out of thin air. Then he pulled his headphones back, letting them rest around his neck, before rising from the bench to stand at his full height.  

“Gwyn,” he acknowledged. “Hello.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, giving it some volume where the headphones had flattened it. Up close, there was a faint flush to his cheeks—matching hers—likely from his own exertion. A couple of strands along his hairline were damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead in a way that made him look less composed than usual. Less put together. More real. 

It brought a strange sense of comfort to her thudding heart. 

And the fact that she, for once, seemed to have taken him by surprise had her fighting a smile. Granted, she had only met him twice before, but both times had been the result of her scheming friends. 

The same kernel of warmth she’d felt at Nesta’s place flickered to life in her chest. A new type of feeling she wasn’t sure she’d felt before. One she wasn’t sure she could name yet. Only that it felt good. 

Even if she had no idea what she would say to him next. 

Luckily, Azriel spoke before any type of anxiety could take hold of her new found confidence. 

“I didn’t know you trained here,” Azriel said and crossed his arms over his chest, before quickly uncrossing them and letting a hand rest on the weight rack behind him instead. 

“Just started,” she replied with a small shrug. “New year, new me and all that.” Inwardly, she winced as the words left her mouth and quickly tried to mask it with a wave of her hand and a forced laugh. “How about you? Have you been a member long?” 

A flicker crossed his face—amusement, perhaps. 

“You could say that,” he answered.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “That sounds oddly suspicious.”

His mouth twitched and he ducked his chin almost bashfully. 

“I own part of it.”

For a second she simply stared at him, certain she had misheard him under the thumping music and clanking weights. “You own part of… this?” she hesitated, glancing around at the rows of machines and mirrored walls as if the building itself might provide some explanations. 

“Knight Group does,” he clarified as if it explained everything. “It’s one of our subsidiaries.” 

“Oh... I don’t know what that means,” she admitted dumbly, grateful her face was already flushed. 

Cassian had told her about his work before. How he worked at Knight Group with Azriel and a third brother. Had explained what they did and how… and Gwyn had stopped trying to understand when it got far too complicated. Had just accepted the fact that Nesta’s boyfriend was some sort of high-ranking corporate dude and moved on. “I thought Knight Group only dealt with luxury estates?” 

“We do,” he chuckled lightly, not maliciously, but more so in a way that confirmed this question had been asked before. “Amongst other things.” 

“Right…” she mumbled and then her eyes widened slightly. “You own Knight Group?” 

“Twenty percent.” 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could recall Cassian saying the same thing, and blasted herself for not asking more questions. It shouldn’t have surprised her, not really. Both Cassian and Azriel carried themselves with a sense of power. Knight Group was successful. The type of success that was bordering on bizarre. Of course Azriel owned a part of it. 

“Right,” she repeated, because what else could she say to that? 

“You should’ve had Nesta tell us you signed up,” Azriel swiftly changed the subject and fidgeted with one of the weights hanging off the bar. “Could’ve sorted a membership out for you.” 

“No.” 

The response left her before she could soften it. The word cut sharper than she intended, and she felt it the second it landed between them. Azriel’s head tilted slightly, his eyes searching and reading every part of her as if she was an open book. Always so damn attentive. “I mean–It’s okay. I don’t... I don’t mind paying for it.” 

Why was it so difficult to string a sentence together around him?

She had talked throughout their entire dinner. Talked and talked and talked. 

Since then, it seemed like she couldn’t find more than three words at a time in his presence.

Ridiculous.

“It’s fine,” he offered gently. “It wouldn’t cost us anything.”

“That’s not… I don’t like to owe people things.” 

The admission lingered heavier than she meant it to. Her heart was pounding, louder and harder than the music blasting through the gym’s speakers, as Azriel kept quietly watching her. She waited for him to roll his eyes and laugh at her. Waited for him to tell her she was ungrateful. 

It really shouldn't have surprised her when neither came. 

“You wouldn’t owe anyone anything,” he said after a moment. Just a simple clarification. 

And something in her chest loosened at that. Grounded her. 

“Maybe not,” she replied, softer than before, hesitating only for a second before adding, “but I would still feel like I did.” 

He held her eyes for a beat longer before he nodded once, accepting and steady. A trait of his that was slowly adding heat to the warmth inside her. Something different. 

“Okay.” 

Gwyn gave him a soft smile. The knot inside her unravelled, faded beneath her curiosity once more. As terrifying as it was, Azriel somehow saw her and did not judge. Did not push. 

And Gwyn found herself wanting the same. Because she could not understand him. Every conversation they’d had he’d been kind and respectful, made sure she was fine and gave her space to breathe when needed. Then he had withdrawn so quickly she hadn’t even had the chance to do anything but watch him go. 

That just wouldn’t do. 

Not when he stood in front of her again, acting like their conversation at Nesta’s hadn’t happened. 

She could be his friend. She wanted to be his friend. 

“Besides, I plan to take my resolution very seriously, you know,” she told him suddenly feeling emboldened by the fact that she had been the one to approach him. “I feel it is only fair that I fund the place where I plan to take out my frustrations over broken printers and annoying asshats from work.” 

A low laugh escaped from him, grounding her even further and widening her smile. 

“You make an excellent argument.” 

“Thank you,” she beamed, leaning back onto her heels, feeling more energized than she had in days. “I usually do.”

“I believe you.” 

“Someone has to keep Nesta and Emerie from turning minor inconveniences into full-blown battle plans.” 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Azriel agreed, smiling wide enough to reveal a small dimple on his cheek. 

“No,” Gwyn mused and glanced down at her feet, taking her lower lip between her teeth. “Terribly inconvenient.” 

Silence lingered between them again, comfortable beneath the pulsing music of the gym. For a moment, neither of them attempted to interrupt it. She wasn’t sure how long it lasted; just standing there and looking at each other. 

Eventually, a loud grunt and weights slamming onto the floor broke her out of it. “Well, um, I just thought I’d come say hi, soo…” She gestured to the barbell he’d been using. “I’ll let you get back to your workout.” 

“Right,” Azriel cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair again. “Try not to break anything. Bad for business.” 

Gwyn paused, and realized a second later that he was joking. She laughed. 

“I make no promises,” she chirped, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered when his smile deepened in response.

When she returned to her abandoned dumbbells, Gwyn was lighter. The burning need to work herself into exhaustion dowsed. It was easier to breathe as she worked through her remaining exercises, though she did not dare to glance back over her shoulder. Nervous of what she might find if she did. Of what it might do to her racing heart. 

Even when she was far too aware of a pair of hazel eyes glancing her way every now and then. 

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Later that night, tucked into bed with her damp hair in braids and muscles aching, Gwyn couldn’t stop herself. More than curiosity had her typing his name into the search bar once again. 

Azriel didn’t have more than nine photos posted on his feed, the latest one being the beach photo. Posted six months ago. Clearly he did not care much about sharing his life online, and while Gwyn understood him and felt very much the same, she was also disappointed there was not more on there. More of him. More of who he was. 

A large and fluffy black cat with round eyes took up most of his feed, and Gwyn thought that, if nothing else, she would befriend Azriel Singer only so she could meet his cat. 

And she thought of her decision to walk up to him earlier. How nothing bad had happened. How their short interaction made her stomach flutter. How good it felt to do something new. 

She’d made him laugh and wanted more of it. 

There was no hesitation as she scrolled to the top of his profile and pressed the button to follow him. Not even as her blood buzzed with a whole new set of nerves and her heart thudded hard in her chest. 

Not even a minute later she had a new notification 

‘Azriel Singer wants to follow you.’ 

Gwyn couldn’t stop smiling, even as sleep claimed her.