Chapter 264
Nova’s POV
When I woke up, everything was too quiet.
At first, I wasn’t even sure where I was. My eyes opened to unfamiliar shadows stretching across a ceiling that wasn’t mine. It took a few seconds before memory trickled back in—his apartment, his bed, his arms around me.
Eldur.
Just his name made my chest tighten.
I turned my head slowly and saw him beside me, still asleep, silver hair tousled like he’d just stepped out of a fairytale and accidentally fallen into reality. His lashes were absurdly long for someone so sharp-edged. His features—elegant, otherworldly, like he belonged to another time.
I watched his chest rise and fall, and for a moment, I let myself remember how it felt to be held like I mattered.
But then… the weight hit me.
I sat up slowly, careful not to wake him, and slid out of bed. Every step across the room felt like I was walking through mud. My clothes were in a neat pile on the chair. I grabbed them like they were evidence of a crime and started dressing as quietly as possible.
We hadn’t done anything—not really. Just… held each other. But that was what scared me the most. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his arms. I hadn’t meant to feel so safe, like I belonged there. That kind of comfort didn’t come without consequences. And I knew better.
I knew what happened when you let yourself believe someone like Eldur could be permanent.
He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.
Guys like Eldur? The ones with storm-cloud eyes and that infuriating, slow-burning smile? They broke hearts without even trying. And people like me? We were the ones left sweeping up the pieces.
“Nova p>
His voice, low and rough from sleep, startled me. I jumped, clutching my bag like it was some kind of emotional shield.
“Oh—sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you p>
“You didn’t.” He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes looked softer in the morning light. “You’re leaving p>
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the floor. Looking at him would make this harder. “I just figured I should head back. You know… change, get ready for class p>
There was a pause. A silence that felt too long, too heavy. I could feel him watching me.
“Did… I do something wrong p>
I looked up, just for a second. And I hated the way his voice sounded—uncertain. Like I’d punched a hole in something precious. I forced a smile, one that didn’t reach anywhere near my heart.
“No. You were… really sweet, actually. Last night was… thanks p>
The word “sweet” tasted strange in my mouth, like something that should have been kind but felt more like a goodbye. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. But I didn’t know how else to protect myself.
Before he could say anything else, I turned toward the door. “I’ll see you in class, okay p>
He nodded, but it didn’t feel like a yes.
And then I stepped out, quietly closing the door behind me.
And just like that… I left the only place that had made me feel safe in a very long time.
I told myself I’d stay away. That was the plan. Clear, solid, unbreakable.
Avoid Eldur Daegon at all costs.
He was distracting. Too charming. Too intense. Too… everything.
And I couldn’t afford that. Not when my scholarship was all I had and my life was a carefully balanced tower of schedules and caffeine. I didn’t have room for silver-eyed enigmas who made me forget the pain I promised myself I’d never feel again.
No more disappointments.
No more being left behind like my dad and I were when my mom walked out like we weren’t enough. I wouldn’t be that girl. Not again.
The first time I saw him at school after that night, I ducked.
I literally ducked behind a vending machine like a badly-written romcom heroine. It was ridiculous. But then I peeked around the edge and saw him—tall, still too perfect, scanning the hallway like he was looking for something.
Someone.
Me.
My heart stuttered. I turned and practically ran.
At lunch, he approached our usual table like everything was normal.
Lara lit up when she saw him. “Eyy, silver fox p>
I wanted to disappear.
“Hey,” Eldur said, dropping his tray on the table. He looked at me, voice softer now. “Mind if I join p>
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Panic climbed my throat like a vine.
“I actually… I have to go. Forgot I left my… uh, plant… in the lab p>
Lara frowned. “You don’t even have a plant p>
“It’s a metaphorical plant,” I mumbled, standing too fast. “Photosynthesis waits for no one. See you later p>
And then I was gone.
Lara cornered me after class.
“Okay, spill. Did Eldur say something? Do something? Did he, like, try to sacrifice you to a blood moon or something p>
I blinked. “What?! No p>
“Because you’re acting like he murdered your goldfish and I’m concerned p>
I sighed, hugging my books tighter. “He didn’t do anything wrong, Lara. I just… I need space p>
She narrowed her eyes. “Nova, he’s not like other guys. He doesn’t flirt for fun. He doesn’t play games. He looks at you like you hung the stars. And now he looks like someone kicked his soul p>
My stomach twisted. But I just said, “Please, Lara. Just… drop it p>
She did. For now.
After school, I started my shift at Prologue Pages. The place smelled like old paper, faded dreams, and judgment.
I was in the back, sorting a new shipment of books, when I heard the bell over the door jingle.
I felt him before I heard him—like the air change, humming with a familiar static that always seemed to follow him in.
“Nova p>
His voice. Low. Unmistakable. The kind that stuck with you long after it left the room, curling around your thoughts like smoke.
I didn’t need to look up. I already knew.
I snapped the box shut a little too hard. My heart thudded in my chest like it was trying to get away from me. “Hey, Eldur p>
He walked closer. No books. No backpack. Just him. All gravity and quiet intensity like the universe forgot to warn me he was coming.
“I need to ask you something,” he said.
I swallowed, instantly on edge. “Okay p>
“What did I do p>
The way he said it—it wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t angry. It was soft. Real. The kind of honest that cracks people open. He looked… confused. Like someone had pulled the rug out from under him, and he was still waiting to hit the ground.
“You didn’t do anything p>
“Then why are you avoiding me?” His eyes locked on mine, searching, steady. “Did I cross a line? Did I—did I make you uncomfortable p>
“No. God, no.” I shook my head too fast. “You were… kind. Really kind p>
“Then why?” he asked again.
And there it was. That crack in his voice. Just enough to make my stomach twist.
I stepped back instinctively, wrapping my arms around myself like armor made out of limbs. “Because I can’t do this, Eldur. Whatever this is… I can’t p>
His jaw tensed. “Why not p>
Because you’re too much. Too kind. Too magnetic. Too everything I’ve been trained to run from.
“Because it’s better this way,” I said instead.
His eyes dimmed, like someone flicked a switch inside him. “You’re pushing me away p>
I nodded, the weight of it already making me feel hollow.
“Why?” he pressed, his voice cracking in places it usually didn’t. “You don’t even know me p>
“You’re right,” I said, and it hurt more to say it out loud. “That’s the problem. I don’t know you. And I can’t risk finding out I was wrong p>
“You’re not wrong about me,” he said. Quiet. Sure. “Not when I’m standing here trying to understand why someone I care about suddenly wants nothing to do with me p>
My breath caught.
“You… care about me p>
No hesitation. “Yes p>
God. Why did he have to say it like that? Like it was obvious. Like I meant something.
“I believe you,” I whispered. “But I’ve been through things, Eldur. Things I don’t talk about. And I’ve seen what happens when people get too close p>
“What happens?” he asked, like he already knew the answer but needed to hear me say it anyway.
“They leave p>
Silence stretched between us, heavy and sharp.
“So you’re leaving first,” he said. His voiced sounded hurt, really hurt. And it wrecked me a little.
I didn’t respond.
He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve but couldn’t touch. “You think I’m just some guy who’ll break your heart p>
“I don’t think it,” I said, voice shaking. “I know it p>
It came out colder than I meant. But it was the only shield I had left.
He stared at me for what felt like forever. And for the first time since I met him, Eldur Daegon didn’t look sure of himself. He just looked… lost.
“Fine,” he said, flat and empty. “If that’s what you want p>
It wasn’t.
But it was what I needed. Or at least… what I told myself I did.
So I nodded. “Yeah. It is. Please leave me alone p>
He turned, just like that, and walked out. The bell above the door gave a soft chime, cheerful and oblivious. The kind of sound that shouldn’t sting—but did.
I stared at the door long after it shut, the silence swallowing everything.
And in that moment, I realized something awful:
It wasn’t that I thought he’d break my heart.
It was that I knew I’d let him.
And maybe he didn’t deserve the wall I threw up.
But I wasn’t ready to let it fall.
Not yet.