The rest of the drive passed in tense silence.
Aïnis watched the city lights blur past the window. She could still feel the night air from the balcony against her skin. The closeness. The second when he hadn't stepped back.
That was new.
Usually, Blake anticipated. He always created distance before it became dangerous.
Not this time.
She turned her head slightly toward him.
Closed profile. Eyes fixed straight ahead. Jaw tight.
"Do you do that often?" she asked calmly.
"Do what?"
"Pretend you don't feel anything."
He didn't answer immediately.
The car turned into the estate's driveway. The gates opened slowly.
"Feeling something doesn't change the facts," he finally said.
"The facts?"
He cut the engine.
The silence became almost oppressive.
"You're eighteen, Aïnis. You're exposed, watched, surrounded by decisions that don't fully belong to you yet. I'm employed by your father. There's a hierarchy. A responsibility. A… boundary."
She opened the car door before he finished.
"You talk as if I'm incapable of choosing."
He stepped out as well.
"I'm talking like someone who knows the consequences."
She turned sharply.
"And I don't?"
They stood facing each other a few meters from the entrance.
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
"You think I don't understand what this implies? That I'm just a girl impressed by the older man who protects her?"
The word struck hard.
Older.
He clenched his jaw.
"That's not what I said."
"But it's what you think."
She stepped closer.
"Eight years. Eight years, Blake. Not twenty. Not a generation. Eight."
He remained still.
She was smaller than him. Younger.
And yet, in the way she looked at him, there was nothing childish.
"What scares me," he finally said, "isn't the age difference."
She blinked, surprised.
"Then what?"
He hesitated.
He never hesitated.
"It's that if I cross that line… I won't be able to go back."
Their breathing was the only sound.
"And you think I could?" she whispered.
That sentence unsettled him more than anything else.
Because she wasn't speaking like a teenager.
She was speaking like someone who already understood the weight of a choice.
An irreversible one.
Inside
They entered.
The hall was empty. The staff already gone.
Blake was about to put his usual mask back on when she called his name.
"Blake."
He turned.
Not "sir." No distance.
Just his name.
She walked toward him slowly.
Not provocative. Not fragile.
Determined.
"I'm not asking you to risk everything."
He said nothing.
"I'm asking you to stop deciding for me what I'm capable of feeling."
She looked up at him.
They were close now. Truly close.
He could have counted her heartbeat if he reached out.
"You think I don't see the way you look at me?" she continued, softer. "You think I don't feel when you pull away on purpose?"
He swallowed.
She placed her hand against her own chest.
"I'm not naïve. I know I'm eighteen. I know you're twenty-six. I know it complicates everything."
Her voice barely trembled.
"But this isn't an illusion."
Silence stretched.
One second. Two. Three.
He slowly raised his hand.
He should have stopped.
He didn't.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair near her face.
A tiny gesture. Almost innocent.
But heavy with everything they had been holding back for weeks.
She inhaled sharply.
He felt the warmth of her skin. The reality of her presence.
This wasn't an idea anymore. This wasn't a moral debate.
It was her.
A few inches away.
"Aïnis…" he breathed.
His voice had nothing professional left in it. Nothing distant.
She didn't move.
He could have kissed her.
He knew it. She knew it.
Eight years. A role. A world full of consequences.
His fingers slid from her temple to her cheek.
Slowly.
As if he were checking that she was real.
And for a fraction of a second, he forgot everything.
Then reality returned.
Brutal.
He pulled his hand back as if burned. Stepped away.
"I can't."
The words fell between them like a sentence.
She remained still.
Not hurt. Not angry.
Just… struck.
"Not yet," he added almost against his will.
Her eyes widened slightly.
He had said more than he should have.
He took a deep breath.
"Good night, Aïnis."
This time, it wasn't an escape.
It was a dangerous promise.
He turned and walked away.
She remained alone in the hall.
Her cheek still burned where he had touched her.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
It wasn't a refusal.
It was a delay.
And sometimes, a delay is more intense than a kiss.
Aïnis barely slept.
She stayed standing in her dark room for a long time, fingers resting against her cheek.
Where he had touched her.
Such a light gesture. Almost insignificant.
And yet, it had broken something.
Or maybe opened something.
Not yet.
Those two words kept circling in her mind.
Not a refusal. Not a rejection.
A delay.
She didn't know whether that should reassure her or frighten her.
The Next Morning
The atmosphere was different.
Subtly.
As if the house itself had sensed the crack.
Blake was already downstairs when she came down.
Perfectly straight. Perfectly calm. Perfectly professional.
But he didn't meet her eyes immediately.
And that was new.
Her father entered the room seconds later.
"Blake, I'd like to speak with you in my office."
The tone was neutral.
Too neutral.
Aïnis felt her stomach tighten.
Blake nodded.
"Of course, sir."
He walked past her without looking at her.
Distance. Wall. Barrier restored.
In the Office
Aïnis's father stood silently behind his desk for a moment.
He observed Blake with cold attention.
"You've been here how long now?"
"A little over six months, sir."
"And you consider the situation… under control?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Then:
"My daughter seems… attached to your presence."
The wording was deliberate.
Blake didn't flinch.
"She's going through an unstable period. It's normal for her to seek anchors."
Her father's gaze sharpened.
"Make sure those anchors remain professional."
A beat.
"Of course."
A controlled lie.
But he knew the man in front of him wasn't fooled.
"I received an interesting offer this morning," Aïnis's father continued. "A position abroad. Close protection for a strategic partner. Better paid. More… discreet."
The implication was clear.
Blake stayed silent.
"I thought it might interest you."
Eight years. A role. A world full of consequences.
That was reality.
"When would I leave?" he finally asked.
Outside
Aïnis was waiting.
She hated waiting.
When the office door opened, she straightened.
Blake stepped out.
His expression was controlled.
Too controlled.
"What did he say?"
He hesitated.
A fraction of a second.
"Nothing important."
Lie.
She saw it immediately.
"Blake."
He finally held her gaze.
And this time, there wasn't just control in it.
There was decision.
"He offered me another position."
The ground seemed to shift beneath her.
"Where?"
"Abroad."
The word echoed harshly.
"You… you're accepting?"
Silence.
That was the real invisible line.
Not age. Not role.
Distance.
He could have said no. He could have refused. He could have stayed.
But staying meant yielding.
And yielding meant risking hurting her.
"Yes."
The word fell without emphasis.
Simple.
Final.
She absorbed it.
Without crying. Without shouting.
Just a slight step back.
"Okay."
He hadn't expected that.
"Aïnis…"
"It's simpler, right?" she said softly. "Safer. More reasonable."
His own arguments.
Turned against him.
He stepped closer.
"It's not running away."
She looked up at him.
"Yes, it is."
And in her eyes, he understood that she had grown a little more.
Maybe too fast.
"When?" she asked.
"In a week."
A week.
Seven days.
A delay.
This time, not to wait.
To prepare to lose.
Later, alone.
Aïnis entered her room and closed the door.
Eight years.
She had never felt that gap was impossible.
But a week…
A week could erase everything.
Or reveal everything.
She sat on her bed.
Her phone vibrated.
A message.
From Blake.
I'm doing this for the right reasons.
She stared at the screen for a long time.
Then replied:
You're doing this to avoid facing one of them.
She set the phone down.
Her heart was still beating too fast.
The invisible line had just become a real border.
And sometimes, it's when a departure is announced…
…that feelings become impossible to ignore.