Chapter 175 Midnight Hug
Chapter 175 Midnight Hug
The apartment was wrapped in the quiet stillness that only arrived long after midnight.
The lights in the living room had been switched off, leaving only the warm glow from a small lamp near the television. Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows, and every now and then the distant sound of passing cars drifted up from the street below.
Amelia stirred. For a few seconds, she couldn't remember where she was.
She blinked slowly at the unfamiliar ceiling before everything rushed back, the examination hall, the security office, Dr. Victor's disappointed expression, Nathan's arms around her, and the exhaustion that had pulled her into sleep.
She sat up carefully.
The room was empty. The blanket covering her shoulders slipped into her lap as she looked toward the door.
A strange feeling settled over her chest. She quietly climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door as gently as she could.
The apartment was silent.
She padded barefoot down the hallway until the living room came into view. The sight waiting for her made her stop.
Ryan had clearly intended to stay awake. Instead, he was slumped awkwardly in an armchair, one elbow resting on the armrest while his head hung forward at an angle that looked guaranteed to cause a stiff neck by morning.
Beside him, Mira had somehow squeezed herself into the same chair. Curled up with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she had fallen asleep with her head resting across Ryan's lap. One of Ryan's hands had unconsciously settled over the edge of the blanket as though making sure it wouldn't slip off her.
Amelia couldn't help smiling.
Then her eyes found Nathan. He was stretched across the sofa, one arm hanging over the edge, still wearing the same clothes from earlier that day. A thin throw blanket covered only half of him, leaving his shoulders exposed to the cool night air.
Her smile faded into something softer. He had spent the entire day carrying her worries. Now he looked completely worn out.
Without making a sound, Amelia picked up the folded blanket lying over the back of another chair.
She walked toward him slowly. Every movement was careful, almost hesitant.
She leaned over the sofa and gently spread the blanket across his shoulders. Just as she adjusted one corner near his chest, the tips of her fingers brushed against the back of his hand.
Nathan stirred almost immediately. His brows furrowed before his eyes slowly opened.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The room remained perfectly still.
Nathan looked up at her. Amelia looked back at him. Neither of them seemed willing to break the silence first.
"You should be asleep," Nathan said at last, his voice rough with sleep.
"So should you."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I was supervising."
She folded her arms lightly. "By sleeping?"
"It was a very advanced form of supervision."
A quiet laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Nathan's expression softened at the sound. "There it is."
Amelia tilted her head. "What?"
"I've been waiting to hear you laugh again."
Her eyes immediately became glassy.
Nathan noticed before the tears could return. Without another word, he reached for her hand.
His fingers closed gently around hers.
Then, with the smallest tug, he drew her closer.
Amelia lost her balance just enough to sit on the edge of the sofa beside him. Before she could protest, Nathan slipped an arm around her waist and rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder.
She froze.
"Nathan..."
"Just stay here." His voice was barely above a whisper.
She looked nervously toward Ryan and Mira. "They'll see."
"They're asleep."
"I can still move."
"I know." His arm tightened just enough to stop her from standing. "Please."
There was something so tired about the way he said it that Amelia stopped resisting.
Nathan shifted slightly, making room for her. With gentle insistence, he guided her until she was lying beside him on the narrow sofa. "There."
Amelia let out an exasperated little sigh. "This sofa was made for one person."
"We'll survive."
"Barely."
He smiled without opening his eyes. "I've survived worse this week."
She tried sitting up again.
Nathan quietly shook his head. "Don't."
"I'll fall."
"You won't."
"How are you so certain?"
"Because I'm holding you." His answer came so naturally that Amelia forgot how to argue.
She slowly relaxed against him.
For a little while, neither of them spoke. The only sound between them was the slow rhythm of their breathing.
Nathan finally broke the silence. "Amelia."
"Hm?"
He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly so he could look at her.
"When you wake up tomorrow." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I don't want you hiding from people."
She remained silent.
"I don't want you walking across campus with your head down because you're worried about what somebody might think."
Her lips trembled.
"I want you to walk exactly the way you always do."
She looked away. "What if they're all looking at me?"
"They probably will."
The honesty surprised her.
Nathan gently touched her chin, guiding her gaze back to his. "So give them something worth looking at."
She frowned slightly.
He smiled. "Look like yourself." His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek. "The same beautiful, graceful woman who walked into my life and somehow convinced everyone around her to become better people."
A tear escaped despite her efforts to hold it back.
Nathan caught it with his thumb before it reached her jaw. "I believe you." His voice never wavered.
"Ryan believes you." He nodded toward the armchair. "Mira would probably fight the entire university for you if she had to."
A tiny laugh slipped through Amelia's tears. "She probably would."
"Exactly." Nathan smiled. "So until we prove what really happened." He rested his forehead gently against hers. "Borrow our faith if yours starts running out."
Amelia closed her eyes. Her fingers slowly found his hand beneath the blanket and intertwined with it.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you."
Nathan smiled softly. "I've been asking myself the same thing."
This time, when Amelia smiled, it reached her eyes.