"LOVE IN A LONG SUSPENSE

CHAPTER SEVEN — The Girl Who Got to Me

Later that night, after burying himself in work to escape the thoughts clawing at his mind, Ethan finally pushed back from his desk. His eyes were dry, his expression cold—but deep within, he felt a pressure he couldn't explain. Something unspoken. Something foreign.

He stepped into the kitchen, his footsteps echoing through the silent mansion. A servant straightened at his approach.

"Prepare something simple for her," Ethan said flatly. "Light, but hot. She hasn't eaten."

The servant obeyed without question, immediately pulling ingredients from the cupboards. As she moved efficiently through her tasks, Ethan remained still, leaning against the marble counter. His eyes followed her movements, but his mind was elsewhere.

Why was he even doing this? Why did her wellbeing matter? She had screamed at him, cursed him, called him a monster—and yet, all he could think about was whether she had eaten. Whether she was alright. It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Once the dish was ready, he led the servant down the long corridor toward her room, his face unreadable. They reached the door, and he pushed it open, expecting resistance. Defiance. A glare.

But what met them was silence.

Haera was lying on the floor, curled into herself like a child—still, pale, and hauntingly quiet.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Hey, woman," he called, voice hard. "Get up and eat."

No response.

He stepped closer. "I said, get up!"

Still nothing.

A flash of anger bloomed in his chest—but this time, it wasn't rooted in pride or power. It was panic, dressed in the skin of frustration.

He hurried to her side, knelt down, and shook her.

"Haera."

Her body was limp. Her skin was cold.

"Haera!" he said again, louder now, shaking her harder.

The tray of food clattered behind him as the servant gasped.

"She's… she's unconscious," she whispered.

"Call the doctor. Immediately," Ethan barked, eyes never leaving Haera's face.

But even as the servant ran off, Ethan's gaze swept over the room. It was a mess. Spilled water. Clothing scattered. Untouched food from the day before still sitting on a tray in the corner.

She had been neglected. He had neglected her.

Without hesitation, he scooped her gently into his arms. Her head rested limply against his chest, her fragile body barely heavier than a feather. She felt… too small. Too quiet.

And something inside him twisted.

He carried her to his bedroom—his private sanctuary, forbidden to all—and laid her carefully on his bed. She didn't stir. Her breath was shallow, but steady now.

He stood over her, jaw clenched, mind spinning.

Minutes later, the doctor arrived, worry etched into every line on his aging face. He moved to Haera immediately, performing a quick but thorough examination while Ethan hovered, arms crossed but clearly tense.

"She hasn't eaten in days," the doctor finally said, sighing. "She's passed out from exhaustion and malnourishment. Her body is shutting down from neglect and emotional stress. She needs rest, medication, and most importantly—consistent meals."

He scribbled down a list of prescriptions and handed it to Ethan, who immediately turned to the waiting servant.

"Take this to my assistant," he said. "Tell him to buy everything on the list. Now."

The servant nodded and rushed off.

The doctor watched Ethan carefully, observing the shift in his expression—the subtle tension behind his stoic mask. The man who once pushed everyone away was now pacing beside an unconscious girl with eyes full of turmoil.

As Ethan walked the doctor to the main hall, the man couldn't help but speak up.

"You haven't called me in years," he said softly. "Not since your parents passed."

"I haven't needed to," Ethan replied curtly.

"That's not true," the doctor said, gently. "You haven't allowed yourself to."

Ethan stopped walking. His voice was low. "Only cowards run to doctors when they're in pain."

The doctor looked at him for a long, weighted moment.

"You weren't always like this, Ethan. You used to be kind. Smiling. Full of light."

"That version of me died with them," Ethan muttered, eyes dark.

The doctor's heart ached. He knew the boy Ethan used to be—the one who laughed, who held his mother's hand, who dreamed.

Now, that boy was gone.

The doctor left, but not before glancing up the stairs with sorrow. He didn't say it aloud, but he saw the truth—someone was beginning to stir the embers of the boy Ethan once was.

---

Ethan didn't want to hear any more.

He turned away from the doctor before he could say something else that dug too deep and climbed the stairs, the walls closing in around him as he neared his room.

Back inside, Haera lay motionless, her chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.

Ethan began pacing.

He couldn't sit still. His thoughts were too loud. The stillness of the room pressed on his ears until all he could hear were old echoes—the screech of tires, shattered glass, the final breaths of his parents.

He clenched his fists and shut his eyes.

No tears came, but the memories suffocated him.

He gritted his teeth.

He hated feeling helpless. Hated that tonight felt too much like then.

But when he opened his eyes, they landed on her.

Haera.

Still.

Delicate.

Alive.

He stared at her face, soft in sleep. For the first time in days, she didn't look afraid.

And just like that, the storm inside him quieted.

She didn't even know it—but she had calmed him. Her presence had somehow silenced the scream in his soul. And he hated that too.

He hated that her face—her pain—was doing something to him.

He stepped back quickly, shaking his head.

No. Feelings are weakness.

Feelings destroy.

He turned and walked to the couch near the window. Without another word, he sat down stiffly and leaned back, arms crossed, eyes staring into the ceiling.

He couldn't explain it.

But that night, Ethan couldn't bring himself to leave her alone.

So he stayed.

And for the first time in years, he fell asleep not to nightmares of blood—but to the image of a girl who had unknowingly touched a part of his heart he thought had long died.

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End of Chapter Seven

Next: Chapter Eight — A Crack in the Ice

Can the girl who melted the monster's silence break through the fortress around his heart… or will she be consumed by it first?