By the time I reached my apartment, I felt like I'd run a marathon.
Not physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
The email notifications alone were enough to make my head spin—HR requests, project memos, whispers of gossip from coworkers.
And then my phone buzzed.
Luca: Are you okay?
I typed back quickly. I'm… handling it.
A knock at the door made me jump. My heart raced.
Before I could think, Noah stepped inside, keys still in hand. "I didn't wait for an invitation," he said, voice low. "You seemed like you needed backup."
"I'm fine," I said, but my knees threatened to give way.
He didn't answer. He just closed the door behind him.
Moments later, Luca appeared in the doorway. "I didn't want to leave you alone," he said.
I froze. Two men, two protectors, both here at once.
I wanted to tell them to leave. I wanted to run. But I couldn't.
Instead, I sank onto the couch, letting them both stay.
Because the storm outside—work, gossip, pressure—was nothing compared to the tension in this room.
And I realized, trembling, that I wanted both of them here. I wanted them both.