The evening settled over the Valente estate like a soft blanket, the golden lights from the mansion glowing against the darkening sky. Aurelia stepped out of the car, her mind still replaying every word Eren had said in the backseat.
"You're not a child anymore."
"It's impossible for me not to notice."
Her cheeks heated just remembering it.
She wasn't sure whether to be flattered, confused, or terrified.
Eren walked slightly behind her as they entered the mansion, maintaining his usual alert posture. But she could feel his gaze on her—steady, lingering, just a little warmer than usual.
Inside, the hallways were quiet. Most of the guards were outside or in the lower floors. The upper levels belonged mostly to the family—meaning her, Eren, and her grandfather.
Aurelia walked toward her room, trying to compose her thoughts.
"Do you have homework?" Eren asked softly from behind her.
"A little."
"Need help?"
She laughed lightly. "Eren, you barely survived English class today."
"English is useless," he muttered.
She giggled. "Not in this house, Mr. Mafia."
He paused.
Then, in a rare moment of playfulness, he said, "I'm not your mafia."
She turned, surprised.
His smirk was small, but real.
She swallowed. "Then what are you?"
His expression shifted—serious again.
Something flickered in his eyes, something he seemed to fight.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that her breath caught.
"I'm…"
He hesitated.
Then looked away.
"…still figuring that out."
Aurelia's heart thudded painfully.
This wasn't the Eren she grew up with.
This wasn't the cold, disciplined soldier.
This was someone trying not to cross a line.
And losing.
They reached her bedroom door. She paused, her hand on the knob.
"Eren," she murmured, turning toward him, "if you keep acting like this… people will misunderstand."
"Let them," he said instantly.
Her breath hitched.
He took a step closer.
"One day, Aurelia… you'll stop caring about what people think."
"I care what you think," she whispered before she could stop herself.
Silence fell like a shockwave.
Eren froze.
His eyes darkened—slowly, deeply.
He inhaled once, long and controlled, as if something inside him threatened to break loose.
"You shouldn't say things like that," he said quietly.
"Why not?"
"Because…"
His jaw tightened.
"…I might take it the wrong way."
Her heartbeat jumped painfully.
"What's the wrong way?"
His gaze locked onto her lips.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to make her knees weak.
"Aurelia," he said, voice low, "go inside."
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to ask what he meant.
She wanted to know why his eyes suddenly held warmth, danger, and longing all at once.
But before she could speak, he took her wrist gently—his touch warm, firm, electric—
and pushed the bedroom door open.
"Go," he repeated.
She stepped inside slowly.
But instead of leaving, Eren stayed at the doorway, one hand braced against the frame.
"Good night," he said softly.
"Good night, Eren."
She hesitated—just one step away from closing the door.
Something in her chest tugged, bold and reckless.
"Eren," she whispered.
He lifted his eyes.
"Thank you… for staying with me. For everything."
A muscle worked in his jaw.
Then—
he slipped.
Just for one heartbeat.
His hand cupped her cheek.
Warm. Careful. Thumb brushing her skin in a way that set her nerves on fire.
Her breath stopped.
He didn't pull away.
"Aurelia…"
His voice broke just slightly.
"…don't thank me for feelings I can't control."
Her lips parted.
He realized what he said.
His eyes widened just a fraction.
He stepped back instantly, dropping his hand as if burned.
"Sleep," he said, suddenly distant, tense.
Before she could speak, he turned and walked down the hallway—too fast, too stiff.
Aurelia stood frozen in her doorway, her cheek still tingling where his hand had been.
Eren Kael didn't lose control.
He didn't slip.
He didn't make mistakes.
Except tonight…
he had.
And as she closed her door, her heart pounding wildly, she knew:
Whatever walls Eren had kept up for years—
—were starting to crack.