The pounding in Nivera’s head was the first thing she became aware of. A pounding, merciless throb in her skull that made the simple act of breathing feel unbearable.


    A sharp, relentless throb that seemed to split her skull in two. Her mouth was dry, her throat burned, and every inch of her body felt like it had been dragged through ss.


    Even the faintest streak of light slipping past the drawn curtains stabbed into her head like shards of ss.


    She groaned, clutching her temples as she rolled over. The room tilted dangerously, sending her stomach lurching.


    Her vision swam, the ceiling blurring into unfamiliar shapes. A sour taste filled her mouth, and, with a sudden urgency, she stumbled out of bed and staggered toward the bathroom.


    The cool tiles met her knees as she fell before the toilet, clutching it like a lifeline.


    Her body convulsed as she emptied the remnants of the alcohol from the night before. Every heave sent fire through her chest, her tears dripping into the porcin bowl as her throat burned raw.


    She was too focused on her misery to notice anything else–until she felt it.


    A hand.


    Warm fingers brushing her hair away from her face, gathering it in a firm hold to keep it from falling into the mess.


    The touch was steady, controlled, almost careful.


    For a brief second she froze, thinking maybe it was Marceline or Zabelle–until the faint, unmistakable scent hit her. Clean soap, leather, and a hint of


    smoke.


    However, she was too far gone in her misery to register anything else. Her body convulsed again, another harsh wave forcing its way out.


    Only when the worst of it had passed did she dare to lift her head, the sweat, and tears stinging her eyes.


    Alejandro.


    He knelt beside her, his expression unreadable, though his blue eyes seemed sharper than ever in the harsh bathroom light.


    She blinked rapidly, trying to form words, but another wave of nausea rolled through her, dragging her back to the toilet.


    He said nothing, only held her hair tighter, his other hand resting lightly between her shoulder des as she retched again.


    When atst her body gave out, she slumped forward, shaking. He helped her back carefully, not letting her copse onto the cold floor.


    “Easy,” he muttered, his voice low, steadying her as though he were talking to someone on the verge of breaking.


    She leaned against the wall, sweat sticking to her skin, as he reached past her to twist the faucet. The rush of water filled the silence, and a momentter he pressed a cool, damp towel into her hand.


    “Wash your face,” he said simply.


    Too drained to argue, she obeyed. The coldness against her flushed skin gave her a momentary relief, though her head still throbbed viciously.


    When she finally lifted her gaze, she found him still crouched in front of her, studying her with that intensity that always unnerved <i>her</i>.


    She swallowed hard, forcing her voice out through the dryness in her throat. “What… what are you doing here?”


    <b>08:11 </b>Mon, 1 <b>Sept </b><b>TT </b>


    The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, though it wasn’t amusement. “You don’t remember?”


    Her brows knitted. “Remember what?”


    He squinted, tilting his head. “Last night.”


    Her mind scrambled, wing for rity, but it was a foggy mess. Thest thing she remembered was Zabelle’s voice, as they were watching a movie<b>, </b>and a blur of shing lights. After that–nothing.


    She shook her head slowly. “No. Nothing. Thest thing L…” She swallowed hard. “I was with Zabelle.”


    Something flickered in his gaze, a hint of disappointment, though he masked it quickly. “Then it’s better you don’t<i>,</i>” he said, his tone softer than she expected.


    “How are you here?” she demanded, frustrationcing her voice.


    Alejandro leaned back slightly, crossing his arms, though his eyes didn’t leave her. “You don’t need to remember the details. Just know I was here.”


    She bristled, annoyance ring despite the weakness in her body. “That’s not an answer.”


    Instead of rising to her sharpness as he usually would, Alejandro simply exhaled, the sound heavy, almost tired. He nced away, as if deciding what to say. “You drank too much. I stayed.”


    Before she could press further, he stood and offered her his hand. She hesitated, ring at it for a long second, before finally epting.


    Her legs wobbled as he pulled her up, and though she wanted to shove him off, her body leaned against him instinctively for support.


    He guided her back to the bed and disappeared for a moment, only to return with a tray. A bowl of steaming soup sat on it, the aroma mild but soothing. He set it on the table beside her.


    “Drink,” he ordered.


    For a moment, she simply stared at him, bewildered. Alejandro, handing her soup. Alejandro, the man who had spent days belittling her<b>, </b>shutting her out, ying games with her emotions–standing here with concern in his voice.


    She almostughed, except her head still pounded too much for the sound.


    The smell alone made her stomach ease. Reluctantly, she picked up the bowl and sipped. The warmth slid down her throat, calming the burn.


    When she finally lowered it, she realized he was still watching her. Not in the usual predatory way, not with arrogance or calction. Just… watching. Quietly.


    Her chest tightened. She set the bowl down and turned on him sharply.


    “How did you get here?” she demanded.


    “Through my car,” he answered, as though it were obvious.


    “Don’t fucking piss me off,” she hissed in annoyance.


    “Antonio called me when he came to get Zabelle. You were drunk, I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”


    That silenced her. Still, the thought of him being here–caring for her–stirred something she refused to acknowledge. She hardened her expression.


    “Don’t think this excuses anything,” she snapped. “You don’t get to act like this suddenly after treating me like shit.”


    His jaw tightened at the words, but he didn’tsh back. Instead, he leaned against the table, folding his arms.


    You’ve treated me like shit over and over again for days and now you think you can just…show <i>up</i>, hold my hair, and give me soup, like it erases all of


    08-17 Mon<b>, </b>1 Sept


    that?”


    “Nivera–” He called.


    “No.” Her voice cracked, more from emotion than weakness. “Don’t say my name like that. Do you have any idea how insulting this is? For you to even do all this after everything you’ve done?”


    She faltered, but the hurt boiled over. “You’ve belittled me. Mocked me. Made me feel small for no reason other than your own twisted pride.”


    Hér voice cracked, the vulnerability slipping through in spite of her attempt at anger. “Do you know how it feels, Alejandro? To be treated like I mean nothing one second, and then–then you hold me like I…” She stopped, swallowing hard, blinking furiously.


    “So what now?” She asked him. “Because the way I see it, in the next hour, you’re going to go back atshing back at me.”


    He stared at her, silent, but inside his chest something shifted.


    Looking at her now–her flushed face, the trembling in her voice, the fire in her eyes again.


    even through the pain–he felt that strange pressure in his chest


    He didn’t know what it was, only that it was different. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t annoyance.


    It was something he had no name for. Something dangerous.


    For once, he dropped the mask. His voice came low, steady, raw. “You’re right.”