"Trust isn't given. It's built from the shards left after everything else breaks."
The office was quieter than usual tonight, the sort of quiet that pressed at the walls and made every breath feel like an echo. My laptop screen glowed faintly on the desk, but my attention wasn't anywhere near it.
Grey was on the sofa—shoulders tense, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had personally offended him. He looked... weighed down. More than the usual alert, watchful version of him. Something deeper. Something he wasn't saying.
And the strangest part wasn't how unlike him that expression was.
It was the way it made me feel.
Concern wasn't an emotion I usually entertained; worrying about people never ended well. But I felt it anyway, like an instinct I didn't realise I still had. I pushed the chair back and crossed the room. The leather sofa dipped slightly when I sat across from him.
"You're distracted," I said softly, studying him. "More than normal."
He didn't answer at first. Just shook his head like he hoped that gesture alone could swallow whatever was bothering him. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Just... over my head a little. Nothing serious."
I waited. If there was one thing I was learning about Grey, it was that silence nudged truth out of him better than questions.
Eventually, his eyes lifted, meeting mine for a few seconds—long enough for something unspoken to pass between us. He let out a slow breath.
"I guess," he said quietly, "I am a little troubled these past few days." He paused, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "I've been through things... confusing things. And it's frustrating not being able to explain the reasons behind any of it. You ever feel like you went through something hard without knowing how you got there? Like your life took a hit and you weren't even conscious for the impact?"
His voice was low, steady... but the words were raw.
I felt something in my chest tighten.
"Yes," I said. "I do know that feeling."
He didn't interrupt. Didn't rush me. Just listened—present and steady.
"When I was fifteen," I began, choosing my words carefully, "I almost died" My pulse flickered at my throat. "It was my birthday and Victor and I had gone out. He bought me a milkshake and we went to the park. Hours later, I woke up in a hospital, confused, scared. Everyone kept insisting that I suicided. It appeared as if they knew what happened better than I did. Even the doctor said the same thing. But it never felt right to me. It didn't make sense. Yes, I hated my life... but I wouldn't go to the extent of hurting myself. Something about the whole thing was... wrong."
A shadow crossed Grey's features, but he stayed silent, giving me room.
"My stepfather told me not to talk about it. Said it would damage the Montez reputation if I did. And everyone else seemed more interested in convincing me of a story than understanding my confusion." I exhaled; a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "It felt like losing control of my own life."
Grey leaned forward slightly; elbows braced on his knees. "Have you ever talked to anyone about this before?"
I shook my head. "No. Not really."
He studied me for a moment, careful, not prying. "Do you have any family left? Anyone you still... keep close?"
Another small shake of my head.
"I was adopted," I said. "After that, the Montez family kept me... separate. Presentable when needed. Invisible when not."
He nodded slowly, like the pieces fit together. "I have my grandmother," he said after a moment. "She's sick... Hepatitis B. I visit her every weekend. She keeps asking when I'm bringing home a girlfriend." He huffed a quiet laugh. "One day, maybe you should meet her. Just so she gets off my back for a bit."
I blinked. "Meet her?"
He straightened. "I mean girlfriend. Like, a friend who's a girl." His ears reddened slightly. "Not... the other thing."
"Oh." My lips twitched despite myself. "Well... I'm glad I'm your friend. Those are hard to come by."
Something eased in his expression; gentle, almost relieved.
I hesitated before continuing. "Grey... why are you really my bodyguard? I told you that Victor hated HavenCore. But perhaps, you already knew? You could be here for the same reason the person who threatened was. To get close enough to erase me too."
His brows drew together, not in anger—more like disbelief. "Sophie," he said quietly, "do you really think I'm the one threatening you?"
I didn't answer. He didn't wait for me to.
"I'm here to protect you," he said, the words firm but not forceful. "Not to hurt you. I care. You may doubt a lot of things—but don't doubt that."
The office felt smaller suddenly. Warmer.
I swallowed. "I... care about you, too, Grey." The words felt foreign coming out, but true.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Yeah," he said lightly. "I figured. The antiseptic you left for me kind of gave it away."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "That was just normal courtesy."
He arched an eyebrow, amused. "Sure."
I let out a breath. Maybe a laugh. I wasn't sure. For the first time in a very long time, I felt... normal. Human. Like myself without the weight of a name or a past pressing down on my lungs.
Sitting there with Grey; quiet, steady, a presence instead of a shadow—I realised something:
Maybe safety wasn't only about locked doors and armed guards.
Maybe it was also about moments like this.