Chapter 128 up
“Evan, slow down.”
Selena’s voice was calm, controlled, the way it always was in public. But her eyes never left the scene unfolding a few meters ahead of her.
Evan wasn’t slowing down.
He was walking beside Nyla.
Not running. Not restless. Not tugging at anyone’s sleeve or asking endless questions the way he usually did with adults he barely tolerated. He walked at Nyla’s pace, small steps matching hers, his fingers curled loosely around her hand as if that had always been where they belonged.
Selena stopped.
The world seemed to pause with her.
That’s not how he behaves, she thought.
Evan had always been guarded. Polite, yes. Intelligent, certainly. But distant. Even with her, even after years of careful presence, deliberate patience, strategic affection.
But with Nyla—
He leaned closer to her when she spoke. Looked up at her face instead of around the room. Laughed without restraint, the sound bubbling out of him like it didn’t need permission.
Selena felt something sharp slide beneath her ribs.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something colder.
She watched as Nyla crouched slightly to Evan’s level, listening—truly listening—as he spoke about something trivial. A puzzle. A drawing. Selena couldn’t hear the words, but she saw the exchange clearly enough.
Evan spoke.
Nyla reacted immediately—eyes focused, expression soft but attentive.
Evan smiled.
That smile hit Selena harder than she expected.
He never smiles like that, she realized.
Not like that.
Selena folded her arms, nails pressing into her sleeves. Her reflection stared back at her from the polished surface of the glass wall beside her—perfect posture, composed expression, immaculate calm.
Only her eyes betrayed her.
“How long have they been like that?”
The caregiver’s voice came from beside her, casual, unaware.
Selena didn’t look away. “Like what?”
“Comfortable,” the woman said, smiling faintly. “He’s usually… particular. But with Nyla, he settles.”
Selena finally turned her head. “Settles?”
The caregiver nodded. “It’s strange, really. He’s quieter. Less anxious. Like he trusts her without trying.”
Trust.
The word echoed too loudly in Selena’s mind.
“Children do that,” Selena said coolly. “They attach quickly.”
“Yes,” the caregiver agreed, hesitating. “But this feels… different.”
Selena offered a thin smile. “Different how?”
The woman shrugged. “Like he recognizes her.”
The sentence landed with devastating precision.
Selena’s breath stilled.
Recognizes her.
She turned back just in time to see Evan stop walking and tug gently on Nyla’s hand, pointing at something on the wall. Nyla bent closer, her hair falling forward, and Evan reached up without thinking—brushing it back behind her ear with a careful, almost instinctive motion.
Selena’s chest tightened.
That movement—
She had seen it before.
Years ago.
In a cramped apartment that smelled of antiseptic and rain-soaked concrete.
Her mind betrayed her then, dragging her backward without mercy.
The pen had felt heavier than it should have.
Selena remembered that clearly.
The paper lay flat on the desk, clean and crisp, the language precise—too precise for what it was about to erase. Names. Dates. Custody terms. Silence disguised as legality.
She hadn’t hesitated long.
She never did.
The lawyer had spoken gently, professionally. “This ensures stability. No public disputes. No complications.”
Selena nodded.
Stability.
Complications.
The words that justified everything.
She signed quickly. One stroke. Then another.
No tears.
No shaking hands.
Just efficiency.
Outside, the rain had been relentless that day, blurring the city into something unrecognizable. Selena remembered thinking it was fitting. Cleansing. Necessary.
I’m protecting him, she had told herself.
Protecting everyone.
The woman across from her—pale, exhausted, eyes burning with something dangerously alive—had said nothing.
That silence had been unbearable.
Selena had stood, gathered her coat, and left without looking back.
If I hesitate now, she’d thought, I’ll never do it.
“Selena?”
The present snapped back into place.
She blinked once. Then again.
“Yes?”
The caregiver gestured toward Evan and Nyla, who were now sitting together on a bench. Evan leaned against Nyla’s side, head resting briefly against her arm as he examined something in his hands.
Selena’s throat went dry.
“That position,” the caregiver said lightly. “He used to do that with his mother.”
The word mother echoed like a gunshot.
Selena’s jaw tightened. “Did he.”
“Yes,” the woman continued, unaware of the tension coiling beside her. “Only when he felt safe.”
Selena’s nails dug into her palms.
Safe.
She had built walls. Systems. Narratives.
She had accounted for power, money, influence, timing.
She had never accounted for this.
Nyla laughed softly at something Evan said, her hand absentmindedly rubbing small circles against his back.
Evan closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Selena felt her control slip—not dramatically, not visibly—but enough to terrify her.
This wasn’t part of the design.
She had calculated outcomes. Emotional reactions. Collateral damage.
She had never planned for Evan to choose.
Children weren’t supposed to choose.
They followed what they were taught. What they were given.
But Evan—
He was calm.
He was grounded.
He was himself in a way Selena had never fully managed to reach.
“If Evan grows attached,” Selena murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “it complicates things.”
The caregiver glanced at her, puzzled. “I’m sorry?”
Selena straightened, reclaiming her composure like a well-fitted coat. “Nothing.”
She watched as Nyla finally stood, brushing off her clothes, Evan reluctantly rising with her. He clung to her hand again, fingers tightening when someone else passed too close.
Selena’s heart pounded, slow and heavy.
Attachment forms fast when it’s real, she thought.
Too fast.
And real attachments—
They don’t obey plans.
Evan looked back once, over his shoulder.
His gaze met Selena’s.
Not fearful.
Not uncertain.
Just curious.
Then, deliberately, he turned back to Nyla.
That small gesture struck harder than any accusation.
Selena inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
So this is the risk, she realized.
Not exposure.
Not scandal.
Not the truth coming out the wrong way.
It was Evan choosing warmth over control.
Connection over narrative.
She took one step back, retreating into shadow, watching as Nyla led Evan away.
Her voice barely carried when she finally spoke, lips barely moving.
“If Evan chooses her…” Selena whispered, eyes dark, calculating even as something unfamiliar trembled beneath the surface, “…then I won’t be able to control anything anymore.”
And for the first time in a very long time—
Selena was afraid.