Chapter 120: Chapter 120: Too Much Space
Twenty-five minutes later, I step outside hating both Bael and myself a little.
Mostly myself.
Because I knew exactly what he was doing at breakfast. I knew he was provoking me deliberately, knew he recognized the one thing guaranteed to override my common sense was my refusal to let him look down on me.
And somehow I still walked directly into it anyway.
The morning air is cool enough that it brushes pleasantly against my skin as I make my way across the estate grounds, sunlight still soft and pale over the gardens. The paths are mostly empty at this hour, the estate quiet except for distant movement near the lower courtyard where staff have started their morning routines.
Bael is already waiting near the eastern path.
Of course he is.
One hand rests loosely in his pocket while the other holds his phone at his side. He looks up the moment he hears my footsteps approaching, grey eyes settling on me steadily before flicking once over the clothes I changed into.
Not lingering, just noticing, and that somehow feels worse.
"You’re late," he says calmly.
I stop several feet away from him. "I changed my mind twice."
"I know."
That answer catches me off guard enough that I look at him properly.
Bael pushes away from the railing before I can figure out what expression just crossed his face.
"We’ll start slow," Bael says after a while.
I glance sideways at him. "You say that like I’m eighty."
His gaze flicks briefly toward me.
"You’re already offended and we haven’t started yet."
Heat flashes immediately across my face.
I look away first.
"This was your idea, not mine."
"And yet you’re here."
I hate that he keeps sounding faintly amused today, worse, I hate that part of me likes hearing it.
We reach the wider path bordering the eastern gardens before Bael slows briefly, stretching one shoulder back with easy looseness before finally glancing toward me again.
"Stay beside me," he says. "Don’t try to compete."
"I wasn’t planning to."
He looks unconvinced.
That alone irritates me enough that by the time he starts jogging lightly forward, I immediately follow faster than necessary.
Which, judging by the brief look he gives me sideways, he notices instantly.
The first several minutes are manageable enough to make me overconfident.
The pace isn’t fast. The path curves gradually through open gardens and shaded walkways, cool air filling my lungs while the repetitive rhythm of movement slowly settles into something almost comfortable.
Almost.
Beside me, Bael keeps his pace steady and controlled.
Not slowing enough to insult me, not pushing hard enough to strain me either. Just matching me automatically in a way that feels suspiciously careful despite how casual he’s pretending to be about it.
That realization bothers me more than it should.
I focus harder on breathing evenly instead.
Several minutes later, pregnancy decides humility is important for my personal growth.
My breathing turns uneven first.
Then my legs start feeling annoyingly unsteady beneath me. The ache in my lower back slowly returns underneath the repeated movement, dull at first before sharpening gradually enough that I try ignoring it out of sheer stubbornness.
Beside me, Bael glances over once.
His pace shifts almost immediately afterward.
Smaller strides, slightly slower. Subtle enough most people wouldn’t notice.
I notice.
Of course I notice.
The realization irritates me instantly.
Because he’s adjusting for me without mentioning it, without making me feel weak about it, without even acknowledging he’s doing it at all.
Like it’s instinctive now.
Something about that lands dangerously somewhere underneath my ribs.
I speed up out of reflexive annoyance.
Bael looks over again immediately.
"You do realize this isn’t a competition."
"You’re slowing down."
"You were breathing like someone fighting for survival."
"I was fine."
"You looked seconds away from collapsing."
I glare at him despite the fact that breathing is becoming significantly harder now.
Bael looks entirely unimpressed by my denial.
That expression alone makes me jog faster again.
A terrible decision.
A few minutes later my lungs are burning badly enough that speaking feels difficult, heartbeat pounding unevenly while the ache in my back spreads sharper through my body with every step.
Ahead of me, Bael finally slows near the far edge of the gardens where the path opens beside the field.
Relief hits so fast my knees nearly give out from it.
I make it exactly two more steps before the world tilts unpleasantly sideways beneath me.
Then warmth catches me immediately.
One arm slides firmly around my waist before I can stumble properly, the other steadying against my back while Bael pulls me upright against him with smooth instinctive ease.
Like he expected this.
My breathing turns uneven immediately, chest rising hard enough that speaking feels almost impossible while one hand instinctively grips the front of his shirt for balance.
Above me, Bael looks unfairly calm.
"Tired already?"
I glare weakly up at him through completely destroyed dignity.
But painfully, my legs still feel unreliable enough that the movement throws my balance off again slightly.
Bael’s grip tightens instinctively.
And suddenly I’m pressed properly against him.
My heartbeat spirals immediately.
This close, I can feel warmth through both layers of clothing between us, can smell the faint clean scent clinging to his skin, can hear his breathing still perfectly steady while mine sounds completely disastrous.
Humiliating.
Above me, Bael studies my face silently for several long seconds.
Then his gaze drops briefly toward my mouth.
My stomach flips violently.
I understand what that look means, I do.
And the terrifying part is that he doesn’t look hesitant. He looks certain.
The realization barely finishes forming before Bael kisses me.
No warning, no hesitation.
One second he’s looking at me and the next his hand slides upward against my back while his mouth presses against mine hard enough to steal every coherent thought directly out of my head.
I make a startled sound against his lips, fingers clutching the front of his jacket before I even realize I’ve moved.
The kiss deepens almost immediately. Not rushed, not uncertain, just deliberate in a way that makes panic and heat crash through me all at once.
Bael kisses me like someone who already decided he was going to, like someone no longer waiting for permission to want me openly.
The thought hits so hard it almost hurts.
I try to pull back after a while, weakly at first because my body still feels unsteady from the run and my brain has stopped functioning properly.
Bael follows immediately.
Not forcing, but refusing to let me retreat completely.
His hand presses more firmly against my waist while his mouth moves against mine again, slower this time, devastatingly thorough in a way that makes my thoughts dissolve completely.
By the time he finally pulls away, I’m breathing so hard it feels impossible to recover properly.
His forehead nearly brushes mine.
His grey eyes fixed steadily on my face.
And then quietly, like he’s admitting something to himself as much as to me:
"I think I’ve been giving you too much space."
My entire body goes still. Because that doesn’t sound impulsive.
It sounds decided.
Fear flashes hot through my chest immediately afterward.
Not fear of him, fear of what happens if I start believing this means something real.
I shove against his chest hard enough this time to force actual distance between us before stumbling several steps backward.
Bael lets me go immediately.
That almost makes it worse.
Heat floods violently across my face while my heartbeat spirals completely out of control.
"You—"
But words abandon me entirely.
Bael watches me calmly, breathing only slightly harder than before while I continue emotionally disintegrating in front of him.
Then his gaze drifts downward briefly before lifting back to my face.
"Do you need help bathing after this?" he asks.
I stare at him in complete horror.
Bael looks perfectly serious.
Which is somehow infinitely worse than teasing would’ve been.
I turn around immediately and start running...walking back toward the estate before he can say anything else capable of ending my life permanently.
Behind me, I hear him laugh quietly under his breath.
Low, warm. Dangerously pleased.
That sound follows me all the way back upstairs.
By the time I reach my room, my heart is still beating uncontrollably hard.
I shut the door behind me too quickly before locking it immediately and leaning back hard against the wood with a shaky breath.
My lips still feel warm.
My waist still burns where his hands touched me.
And somewhere underneath the panic and embarrassment twisting violently through my chest, one terrifying realization settles quietly into place.
Because the frightening part now isn’t the kissing.
It’s that Bael keeps reaching for me like he already expects me to stay.
And I don’t know what happens to me if I start believing him.
