The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the distant city buzz outside their window. Elena stepped out, phone in hand, screen dimmed. Her thumb hovered over Harper's name for several seconds before she finally tapped it.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Elena?"
Her voice was steady. Too steady. "We need to talk."
There was a pause on the other end, then a tentative, "Yeah… okay."
She didn't waste time.
"How dare you."
That stunned him into silence.
"You punched him, Harper."
"I—I know," he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"You didn't mean to?" she snapped, voice rising. "Because from what I heard, you marched into the workplace and hit him like it was your right."
"I just… lost it, okay? I wasn't thinking."
"No. You were thinking," she bit out. "You were thinking about yourself. About your ego. You humiliated him. In front of everyone."
"Elena, I said I'm sorry. I know I messed up, alright? I shouldn't have done it, but I—"
"I don't want to see you again."
He went silent. The kind of silence that aches.
"Elena, please—"
"You crossed a line. That's not how you treat people you care about. Not even when you're hurt. Goodbye, Harper."
And with that, she hung up.
Her hands trembled slightly as she set the phone down.
There was sadness in her chest, yes. But deeper than that was a protective anger. Not for herself—but for Jasper.
She got up slowly, padding into the room.
The lights were low, golden from the bedside lamp. Jasper was asleep, half-turned to one side, one arm over his chest, the blanket messily tangled around his legs. His face was calm — the tension gone, the pain softened by sleep. His dark hair fell across his forehead in disarray.
Elena stood still for a moment, just watching him.
Then she moved closer.
Closer.
She knelt by the bed.
His bruised lip had dried slightly. The color was dark, angry. A wound he hadn't asked for, hadn't provoked, and yet took with quiet grace.
Her hand moved before her thoughts could catch up.
She reached forward and touched his lip — so gently, as if she were afraid of waking him, or worse, of hurting him more.
Her thumb lingered there. He didn't stir.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible. "I should've told you he was upset. I should've said something before it came to this."
He didn't respond. He was long gone, chest rising and falling slowly, dreams pulling him far from her words.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth again.
And before she could stop herself—before she could tell herself why it was a terrible idea—she leaned forward.
And kissed him.
Just once.
Soft. Careful. A ghost of a kiss.
It lasted no more than a breath.
But her heart thundered as if she'd leapt from a cliff.
She pulled back instantly, wide-eyed. Her fingers flew to her lips as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done.
Then — panicked — she scrambled away, crossing the room in silent, frantic steps, throwing herself down on the couch.
She yanked the blanket up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks burning, heart racing.
What had she just done?
She kissed him.
She kissed Jasper.
And the worst part?
She wanted to do it again.
But he didn't stir. Didn't move. Didn't know.
He just slept peacefully… like the kiss had been a secret passed from her to the silence.
Elena lay there on the couch, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
Why now?
Why him?
She didn't have the answers.
But something had shifted.
And she wasn't sure anything could ever go back to how it was.
*************
The light coming through the window was annoyingly bright.
Jasper blinked against it, groaning softly as he stretched. His body ached—mostly from yesterday's surprise punch—and his cheek still throbbed in a dull, steady rhythm.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair.
But then he paused.
The bed was empty.
Usually, if Elena woke before him, she was still moving about nearby—sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes humming softly while scribbling in her notebook. But this morning?
No sound.
He looked toward the couch.
Elena lay there, wrapped in her blanket, her back to him. Completely still.
He squinted.
Lately, she never slept on the couch.
In fact, since the day they started sharing the space, it had always been the rule—he took the couch four days, she had the bed four days. But lately, she'd been the one curling up there instead, beside him. First by accident. Now by choice.
And he didn't know why.
Jasper stood and walked into the tiny kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from the sink. As he drank, he glanced back at her.
She stirred then—barely—but didn't turn around.
When she finally got up a few minutes later, she avoided his gaze.
Not completely.
Just enough to notice.
Her good morning was faint. Polite. Not cold, but distant. She didn't ask about his face. Didn't tease. Didn't offer breakfast. Just went about folding the blanket and adjusting the edge of the couch cushion like it suddenly mattered.
Something was off.
And Jasper, who never cared for small talk or guessing games, found himself wanting to know what.
Elena pov– Same Morning
The moment Jasper stirred, Elena's nerves lit up.
Please don't wake up. Please don't remember anything.
Of course, he couldn't remember. He'd been asleep.
But still… the memory of what she'd done last night had burned into her skin like fire.
She kissed him.
She touched his lip. She kissed him. And then ran like a thief in the night to the couch and pretended she didn't.
Now, everything felt strange. His presence in the same room. The way he brushed past her to rinse a glass. The way his voice, still groggy from sleep, sent flutters to her stomach.
It was like her body knew something her brain was trying to erase.
She refused to look him directly in the eye. Just for today.
Maybe even tomorrow.
She wasn't ready for questions. Or answers.
What would she even say? Hey, I kissed you in your sleep last night because I'm in denial about possibly falling for you but too afraid to admit it?
No. No way.
He'd think she was crazy.
Or worse—he'd feel nothing about it at all.
So she pretended.
She folded the blanket with precision, adjusted the cushion twice more than necessary, avoided lingering in the kitchen while he stood there.
Everything was fine.
Perfectly fine.
Until she turned around and caught him staring at her.
Not intensely.
Not accusingly.
Just… observing.
Quietly.
Like he knew something she didn't.
Her heart thumped. She looked away immediately.
Later That Day
They moved around each other like dancers who'd forgotten their steps.
At lunch, she handed him his plate without a word. He muttered a thank-you, eyes never leaving hers.
That was it.
No teasing. No sarcastic banter. No usual half-smiles from her when he took the first bite of her cooking.
Just silence.
Jasper finally cleared his throat. "You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Mhm." She stuffed a bite of rice into her mouth as if that would end the conversation.
He frowned slightly but didn't press.
He just sat back, chewing thoughtfully, eyes flickering toward her every few seconds.
Because even though she said she was fine…
He'd never seen her look more unsure.
And though she said nothing happened…
Something absolutely had.
************
The night had started like any other.
The lights in the club glowed a little dimmer than usual, the music pulsed low and smooth, and the scent of money and perfume hung thick in the air. Elena moved through the VIP lounge, carrying a silver tray of drinks like she had a thousand times before.
The lounge was more secluded than the rest of the club — curtained off with dark velvet and tucked into the corner like a secret. Only high-profile customers were allowed here. The kind of men who tipped with heavy wallets and entitled eyes.
Elena hated this room.
And tonight reminded her why.
She'd just finished serving a group of men when one of them — broad-shouldered, mid-forties, gold watch glinting on his wrist — caught her wrist as she tried to leave.
"Elena, right?" he asked, too casual, too familiar.
She gave a polite nod. "Would you like anything else, sir?"
He leaned back, eyes roaming her body with a smirk. "I've heard about you. You know, the girl who turns every man down. Got a reputation for being untouchable."
Her stomach twisted.
She smiled faintly, trying to pull free. "I only serve drinks, sir. I'll return shortly with your champagne."
She turned to go.
But his hand didn't let go.
He yanked her back, smooth and fast. The tray clattered to the floor.
"I said, I heard....and your tricks won't work on me. I'm not like the others."
Her eyes darted to the curtain, to the entrance. No bouncer nearby. No other waitress in sight.
"Sir, please don't—"
He shoved her down into the velvet booth.
Elena's breath hitched.
He hovered above her, one hand already tugging at the buttons of her shirt. His knee pinned her leg down. She tried to twist away, panic rising.
"I said don't fight," he whispered.
The enclosed booth swallowed her scream.
Her hands fought to keep her shirt closed, but he was stronger. The top buttons tore. She felt his fingers brush her skin — and her blood ran cold.
"Stop—stop!" she cried.
And then—
The curtain whipped open.
Jasper.
Holding a chilled bottle of champagne.
He was meant to deliver it. Rhodes had sent him after Elena had forgotten it. It was supposed to be a two-second errand.
But what he saw made the bottle fall from his hand and crash to the floor.
Elena stumbled behind him immediately, clutching the front of her torn shirt, sobbing, bruises blooming on her neck like fire under porcelain.
Jasper didn't speak.
He didn't breathe.
He just moved.
Fast. Furious. Precise.
His fist slammed into the man's face once — then again — then again. The man didn't even have time to stand before Jasper dragged him out of the booth and threw him onto the lounge floor.
"How dare you touch her?!" Jasper bellowed.
More punches.
The man begged, tried to cover his face, but Jasper wasn't listening. He wasn't Jasper anymore.
He was rage personified.
"Elena!" Rhodes stormed in, followed by security. "What the hell is going on—Jasper, STOP!"
It took three security men to pull him back. Bloodied knuckles. Split lip. Wild eyes.
Elena was on the floor, crying, her shirt clutched to her chest, shaking.
The man, face bleeding, shirt stained, pointed an accusatory finger at Jasper as Rhodes tried to calm him.
"I'll have him arrested," he spat. "And her too. Assault. Harassment. You'll lose more than your license, Rhodes."
"Please," Rhodes said. "Let's not escalate—"
"Then fire them both."
"What?"
"You heard me. You want to keep my money? Fire them. Or I'll call the cops right now."
Outside the Club – Moments Later
Elena and Jasper stood in the back alley, bags in hand. Silence between them. The club doors shut behind them with a final thud.
Fired.
Just like that.
Rhodes had muttered a broken apology. His hands trembled when he said it.
"I don't want to… but I can't afford to lose him. Jasper, Elena… I'm sorry."
He looked at Elena with regret.
"You forgot the champagne. That's why you were in there without backup."
The blame sank like a stone. But Rhodes didn't mean it to hurt — he was cornered.
Still, it hurt anyway.
They walked in silence. Out into the world. The cold air slicing against their skin.
Before they could reach the sidewalk—
"Elena!"
She turned.
It was them.
The girls.
Three of them. Dressed in glitter and fury.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," the tallest one hissed. "Jasper got fired because of you."
Elena blinked. "What?"
"Don't act clueless," another snapped. "If you hadn't been clinging to him every day, none of this would've happened. Why were you even in that room alone?"
"Men don't just act like that for no reason," the third one added, smirking cruelly.
Elena stepped forward, fire in her eyes now.
"You think I wanted that to happen?"
"You've been taking the spotlight since the day you showed up," the first girl spat. "You're not even that pretty. But you live with Jasper. You get his attention. And now because of you, he lost his job."
Elena laughed bitterly.
"Let me be clear," she said, eyes narrowed, voice sharp. "He lost his job because he stood up for me when no one else would. While you three were busy batting lashes at him and stirring cocktails, I was the one he protected."
She took a step closer, her voice lowering to a venomous whisper.
"And if you think for one second that guilt-tripping me is going to break me — you've underestimated the wrong girl."
Then, without blinking—
"Fuck off."
The girls went silent.
Stunned.
Elena turned her back to them and walked off.
Straight to Jasper.
He didn't say anything. He didn't ask what that was all about. He just looked at her, jaw tight, bruised hands flexing.
She didn't know what came next.
But she knew one thing now for sure:
He would always fight for her.
And maybe… just maybe…
She was done pretending she wouldn't fight for him too.
The door closed behind them with a quiet thud.
Neither said a word.
Jasper dropped his bag by the corner and sank into the arm of the small couch, jaw clenched, his split lip already crusting with dried blood. Elena stood by the door a moment longer, as if her body hadn't caught up with her soul yet.
The club, the lights, the shouting… it all still rang in her ears.
But they were home.
Finally.
And home meant something now — it meant Jasper. Even in this tiny space they shared with peeling paint and mismatched plates, she felt safer here than anywhere else in the world.
She moved before she could talk herself out of it.
In the bathroom, she filled a basin with warm water and grabbed a clean towel. She found the little tin of balm and the half-used roll of bandages they kept for Jasper's mechanic bruises.
When she returned to the living room, Jasper raised a brow.
"Elena," he said gently, "you don't have to—"
"I know," she cut in softly, kneeling in front of him. "But I want to."
He said nothing more.
So she dipped the towel in the water, wrung it out, and started dabbing gently at his cheekbone — swollen, red, and tender. Her fingers were soft, but her eyes were focused, lips pressed together in concern.
"You always do this?" Jasper muttered.
"What?"
"Fix broken things?"
She gave a small smile. "Not always. But I try."
He watched her as she worked. She moved to his brow, then carefully cleaned the scrape near his jaw. When she finally leaned closer to tend to the gash on his lip, she paused.
Her breath hitched.
The kiss she'd planted there last night — he didn't know, and yet here she was, face inches from the spot.
For a second, her hand froze.
Her eyes flicked to his, wondering if somehow he remembered, if he felt something.
But Jasper just looked tired… and calm.
So she blinked it away, smiled faintly, and pressed the balm to his lip.
"There," she whispered, voice a little too careful. "All patched."
He gave her a crooked grin. "Your turn."
Before she could argue, he reached for the basin.
"Elena."
She sighed. "Fine."
They swapped places. He dabbed gently at the red marks on her neck, his fingers hovering as if afraid he might make them worse.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"You didn't do it."
"Still," he said. "You got hurt. I should've been there sooner."
She didn't reply.
There wasn't a need.
He was here now. That was what mattered.
They sat together quietly, the towel now resting in the basin on the floor between them. Outside, the city carried on — loud and oblivious — but in here, it was just the two of them. Shared silence. Muted warmth.
Jasper broke it first.
"You know," he said, his voice low, "maybe it's not such a bad thing we got fired."
Elena looked up, startled.
"Are you serious?"
He shrugged. "That place… it's not safe. Especially not for you. And lately—" he ran a hand through his hair, "I've been feeling weird about you working there."
"Weird how?"
His gaze dropped to the floor. "I don't know… insecure, maybe."
Elena's heart skipped.
Insecure? Jasper?
She leaned in slightly, watching him. "Why would you feel insecure?"
Jasper hesitated. Then he gave a half-smile. "Because I know what kind of attention you get. And I also know I can't exactly compete with men who walk around wearing ten-thousand-dollar suits and acting like they own the world."
He looked at her now, his expression open, honest, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
Elena blinked.
"Oh," she whispered.
And for a moment, she didn't know what to say.
Then Jasper chuckled — an actual laugh — the sound unexpectedly light.
"What?" she asked.
"I just remembered the look on that guy's face when I hit him," Jasper said, shaking his head. "Like he saw the ghost of his ancestors."
Elena burst out laughing — sudden, loud, real.
She clutched her stomach, shaking her head. "Oh my God! He was frozen like a broken mannequin."
Jasper laughed too now, eyes crinkling at the corners. "And the way he squealed when security dragged me off—like I was the villain in some low-budget action movie."
"I should've filmed it," she teased. Then she stood up and mimicked the whole fight, doing a clumsy jab in the air. "BAM! 'Don't touch her, you bastard!'" she shouted, pretending to punch with her tiny fists.
Jasper was howling with laughter now, leaning back against the couch, his bruised face lit up with joy.
For a while, they just laughed.
No job. No club. No drama.
Just them.
And in that moment, the heaviness from earlier lifted — not entirely, but enough.
Elena smiled at him.
And this time, the guilt that had clung to her since they walked out of the club didn't return.
Because now she knew something for sure:
She wasn't just someone Jasper protected.
She was someone he saw. Someone he chose.
And maybe… maybe she was starting to choose him too.
********
The knock came just after noon.
Elena wiped her hands on a towel, exchanging a glance with Jasper, who was lounging on the couch with a wrench in hand, halfway through fixing their broken fan.
When she opened the door, she froze.
"Rhodes?"
The club manager stood there, hat in hand, dressed in casual clothes for once, his expression heavy with something between regret and respect.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Can I come in? Just for a minute."
Jasper rose, stiff but calm. "Yeah. Sure."
Rhodes stepped inside, glancing around their modest home. He smiled faintly. "Didn't expect it to be this… warm. It fits you both."
He turned to face them, clearing his throat.
"I just came to say I'm sorry again. For everything that happened. For how it ended."
"You did what you had to do," Jasper said quietly.
Rhodes nodded. "Doesn't make it sit right." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small brown envelopes. "Your pay. I added a little extra. It's not enough, but I wanted you to know — I appreciated everything. You worked hard. You were loyal. You mattered."
Elena took the envelopes with a soft "Thank you."
Rhodes looked at her, then at Jasper. "I hope you both find something better. Somewhere you're valued. And safe."
He gave a small, respectful nod.
Then he turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
"Jasper?"
"Yeah?"
"That punch?" Rhodes smirked. "Best damn right hook I've seen in my life. He deserves it."
And with that, he was gone.