It was well past midnight when the sound came.
Elena stirred in her bed, half-asleep, half-aware of something wrong. It wasn't loud—just the faint crunch of gravel outside the villa walls. At first she thought she was imagining it, another dream blending into reality. But then she heard it again. Footsteps. Too many.
She sat up, her chest tightening. Before she could reach for the lamp, there was a knock on her door.
"Elena," Adrian's voice said, calm but firm.
She opened the door and found him standing there, shoulders tense, eyes sharper than she'd ever seen.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"Stay inside. Don't turn on the lights," he said.
Her heart raced. "Is it—?"
"Paparazzi," he muttered, jaw tight. "Climbed over the gate."
Her breath caught. She hated them, hated the way they clawed at her life like vultures. But climbing the gate, in the middle of the night—that was different. That was dangerous.
She stepped closer to him without thinking. "What are you going to do?"
Adrian's gaze flicked to hers. For a moment, she saw something raw there, something he usually kept buried. His voice was low. "What I always do. Keep you safe."
---
From the window, she watched as he slipped outside. He moved quickly, silently—like he belonged to the night. The men outside laughed quietly, thinking they were clever, their cameras ready.
They didn't see Adrian until it was too late.
He didn't touch them violently, but the way he stood, the way he looked at them—it was enough. His presence carried weight, heavier than words, heavier than threats. The intruders froze, muttered excuses, then scrambled back the way they came.
Elena's breath fogged the glass as she watched him. The way he moved, the way his eyes glinted in the dark—it wasn't normal. It was sharper, wilder, almost… animal.
And yet, he came back to her quietly, like nothing had happened.
---
"Are they gone?" she asked when he entered again.
"Yes," he said simply.
Her shoulders sagged with relief. Still, her eyes lingered on him. "Adrian… how do you do that? They looked terrified."
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Does it matter?"
"It does to me," she whispered.
He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed softly. "Some things are better left unspoken. Just know I'll never let them touch you."
The honesty in his tone broke through her fear. She stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth rolling off him. Her voice trembled. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Adrian's jaw tightened, as if he wanted to say something but held it back. Finally, he spoke, low and rough. "You won't have to find out."
For a second, they stood in silence, the distance between them gone. The world outside no longer mattered. It was just her, and him, and the steady beat of something growing between them.
Elena reached out before she could stop herself, her fingers brushing his sleeve. "Stay tonight. Not outside the door. Here. With me."
Adrian froze, conflict flashing in his eyes. But then he nodded once, slowly. "If that's what you want."
She gave the smallest smile, fragile but real. "It is."
And so, for the first time, he sat beside her not as a guard, not as a shadow, but simply as Adrian. The man who never left. The man she was beginning to need more than she dared to admit.
---⏳
The night stretched on, but for once, Elena didn't feel alone in it.
Adrian sat in the armchair near her bed, his posture straight at first, then slowly relaxing as the hours passed. Neither of them spoke much. The silence wasn't heavy—it was steady, almost comforting.
Elena lay awake, her eyes drifting from the ceiling to him. Every time she thought he might doze off, she caught the glint of his eyes in the dim light. Always watching. Always there.
When dawn began to soften the curtains, she finally broke the quiet. "Do you ever sleep?"
Adrian looked over, his face calm. "Sometimes."
"That's not an answer."
He leaned back slightly, a hint of tiredness in his expression. "I don't need much."
She studied him for a long moment. The sharp lines of his face, the way his presence filled the room even when he said nothing. "It must be lonely."
His eyes held hers. "Not anymore."
The words landed heavier than she expected. Elena's breath caught. She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. "Adrian…" Her voice trailed off, uncertain.
"Yes?"
"You keep saying things like that." She swallowed. "Simple things. But they… stay with me."
He didn't move, didn't look away. "Because I mean them."
Her chest tightened. She turned her head, staring at the light spilling across the floor. For so long, her world had been noise and emptiness, crowds and silence all mixed together. But with him, it was different. With him, things felt real.
"Do you ever think about yourself?" she asked quietly. "What you want?"
Adrian was silent for a moment, his jaw working. Then he spoke, his voice lower than before. "What I want doesn't matter as much as what you need."
She shook her head, her eyes finding his again. "That's not fair. You can't just give yourself up like that."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Elena, I chose this. I'm not here because I have to be. I'm here because I want to be."
Her throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting the blanket. "And if one day I asked you to leave?"
He didn't hesitate. "I wouldn't."
She looked up sharply. "Why?"
"Because you're the reason I stay," he said simply.
The room fell into silence again, but it was different this time. Closer. Intimate.
Elena's eyes stung, though she couldn't explain why. She stood and walked to the window, pulling the curtain back. The sunrise painted the city in gold and pink. It should have been beautiful, but all she could think about was the man sitting in her room, steady as ever.
She turned back, her voice soft. "Adrian… if I told you I was afraid, would you think less of me?"
"Never," he said.
Something broke inside her then, the wall she had kept up for so long. She crossed the room, stopping in front of him. For a second she hesitated, then reached out and placed her hand gently on his.
His hand was warm, solid, grounding.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For staying. For being here. For… everything."
Adrian's gaze locked on hers, steady but softer now, almost vulnerable. He didn't speak right away. Then he gave a small nod. "Always."
And in that moment, Elena realized something terrifying and beautiful at once—she didn't just need him. She wanted him.
---⏳
The villa was quiet that night. Too quiet.
Elena sat in the living room with only a single lamp on, the light dim, almost fragile. A glass of wine stood untouched on the table. She didn't need it, but it looked ordinary to have it there. Ordinary was something she had been trying to copy for years.
Her fingers tapped against the arm of the sofa. The city outside sparkled, but from here it felt far away, like another world. People out there had lives that moved forward—birthdays, aging parents, children growing taller. She had none of that. She had only the same face, the same role, repeated year after year.
She whispered to herself, "Sometimes I wonder if I even exist the way they do."
"Still awake?"
Adrian's voice came from the doorway. Steady, low. She looked up quickly. He was leaning against the frame, arms folded.
Elena forced a small smile. "I don't sleep much."
He stepped inside, quiet as always. "I've noticed."
For a while, neither spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was familiar. Finally, Elena let out a slow breath.
"Do you ever feel like you're… stuck?" she asked, her voice quiet.
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Stuck?"
"Like you're frozen in place, while the rest of the world changes. Like no matter how much you want to move forward, you can't." Her hands tightened in her lap. "That's what it feels like to me. Every day. The world moves, but I stay the same."
Adrian didn't answer right away. He studied her face, calm and patient. "You carry more than anyone sees," he said finally.
Her chest tightened. The words were simple, but they cut deep.
"Do you know what it's like," she continued, her voice cracking, "to smile for cameras when inside you feel empty? To talk about the future when you know yours doesn't exist the same way? To watch people you care about grow older… while you never change?"
Her throat burned. She pressed her palms together, forcing herself not to shake.
Adrian lowered himself onto the sofa, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that she felt his presence. "I know what it's like to carry something you can't share. To feel different. To keep it locked inside."
She turned to him quickly. "You?"
He gave a short nod. "Yes."
For a long moment, their eyes met. There was no curiosity in his gaze, no demand for her to explain. Only recognition.
Elena swallowed hard. "You don't look at me the way others do."
"How do they look at you?"
"Like I'm a prize. A story. A headline. Something they can use." She hesitated. "But you… you look at me like I'm just me."
His reply was quiet but firm. "That's because you are."
Her eyes stung. She tried to blink away the tears, but one slipped down her cheek anyway. She hated it—hated showing weakness. But when Adrian reached out and brushed it away with his thumb, she didn't move.
"Elena," he said softly, "you're not alone anymore."
She closed her eyes, leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Her voice came out like a confession. "I'm scared, Adrian."
His hand stayed on her cheek, steady, grounding. "Then let me be scared with you."
Her chest ached, but not with emptiness—for once, it was full. Full of something she hadn't felt in years. She drew in a shaky breath, realizing that this moment, this man beside her, was breaking down walls she thought would never fall.
When she finally spoke, her words were fragile but honest. "You make it feel less heavy. Like I don't have to carry it all alone anymore."
Adrian's eyes softened. "You never did. You just didn't know I was here."
She let out a weak laugh, wiping her face quickly. "You always say things so simply. No one else talks like that."
"Maybe because no one else means it," he replied.
Elena stared at him for a long time, the silence stretching. For the first time in decades, she let herself believe someone could see her—not the star, not the mask, but the woman underneath.
And sitting there beside Adrian, she felt human again.