A/N :-

Hi, everyone!
This chapter ended up being a bit longer than usual. For those who aren’t fans of long chapters, I’m really sorry--but for those who love them, you’re in for a treat 🤭. Hope you enjoy it!

                     Third Person POV

The classroom buzzed with faint whispers and the rustle of papers as students shuffled in and out, preparing for the day. Miray sat at her desk, her pen moving aimlessly across the notebook in front of her. She wasn’t writing anything coherent—just a string of random lines and shapes that would mean nothing to anyone who looked. Her thoughts were far from the classroom, far from the chatter around her.

Her mind drifted back to the night before.

The roar of the bike engine, the cool wind rushing past her face, and the warmth of Greyson pressed against her—all of it replayed in her head like a vivid memory she couldn’t shake. The weight of his hands resting lightly at her sides, steadying her as if she might fall, made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t want to analyze.

And those moments when his voice, low and deep, had rumbled near her ear as he gave her instructions... it had left her heart racing. She didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling. There was something about him—something sharp and unyielding, yet oddly grounding.

Her cheeks flushed suddenly at the memory, and she ducked her head, gripping the pen tighter. Stop it, she scolded herself. You’re being ridiculous.

But before she could shove the thoughts away, Evie’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

“Why are you blushing?” Evie asked, leaning toward her with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Miray froze, her pen halting mid-scribble. “I’m not blushing.”

“Yes, you are,” Evie said, grinning. “Look at her, Jay! She’s totally blushing!”

Jay, who had been leaning back lazily in his chair, turned his attention to Miray with an amused smirk. “Oh yeah. That’s a guilty blush if I’ve ever seen one.”

Miray groaned, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if that would hide the evidence. “I am not guilty of anything!”

Evie’s grin widened. “That’s exactly what someone with a crush would say.”

Jay laughed, sitting up straighter. “Oh, this just got interesting. Who is it, Miray? Spill.”

“There’s no one,” Miray said firmly, shaking her head.

“Liar,” Evie said, narrowing her eyes. “You were totally daydreaming just now, and I saw that little smile. Come on, you can tell us.”

“I wasn’t smiling!” Miray said quickly, her voice a little higher than she intended.

Jay leaned closer, his smirk growing. “It’s gotta be someone good if she’s this flustered. Wait, is it someone we know?”

“There is no one!” Miray snapped, though her voice lacked any real conviction.

Evie gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, it’s someone at school, isn’t it? Is it Adam-the-Nose-Picker?”

Jay burst out laughing. “Please tell me it’s not Adam. That would be tragic.”

“Of course, it’s not Adam!” Miray exclaimed, glaring at both of them.

Evie folded her arms, giving her a mock-serious look. “Okay, fine. Not Adam. But that still leaves a lot of possibilities. Is it someone older? Younger? Oh, wait—is it the hot gym teacher?”

“Evie!” Miray hissed, mortified.

Jay nearly fell out of his chair, laughing so hard his eyes watered. “Oh man, this is gold.”

“I hate both of you,” Miray muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“No, you don’t,” Evie said cheerfully. “You love us because we’re going to figure this out for you.”

“There is nothing to figure out,” Miray said through gritted teeth, her face still burning.

“Denial is a classic sign of someone with a crush,” Jay pointed out, looking far too pleased with himself.

“I don’t have a crush!” Miray said firmly, sitting up straighter and fixing them both with her best glare.

Evie and Jay exchanged a glance, identical grins spreading across their faces.

“Challenge accepted,” Evie said, leaning back in her chair.

Jay nodded. “We’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Miray groaned, sinking lower in her seat. Why did I even blush? she thought miserably. Greyson would laugh if he knew how much space he’s taking up in my head.

But no matter how much she denied it out loud, the memory of his jacket, his voice, and the way he’d looked at her lingered stubbornly at the edges of her mind.

---

The rest of the school day dragged on as it usually did. Teachers droned on about assignments, projects, and exams, their voices blending into the background. Miray’s mind wandered now and then, but she managed to keep herself somewhat focused.

When the final bell rang, she packed her bag and headed home, grateful for the quiet that awaited her.

Miray had just stepped out of her room, heading toward Ethan’s when the door to his room suddenly swung open. They nearly collided, both freezing in place as they stared at each other in surprise.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, simultaneously, they both burst into laughter.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked between chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“I was coming to see you!” Miray said, still laughing.

“Well, I was coming to see you!” Ethan shot back, his grin widening.

They stood there for another second, still grinning, until Miray finally spoke. “Can we go for a ride?”

Ethan opened his mouth at the same time, saying, “Let’s go to the mall.”

They both blinked, then broke into laughter again.

“Okay, okay,” Miray said, holding up her hands. “Mall first, then the ride.”

“Deal,” Ethan said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Now go get ready. I’ll be downstairs in five.”

The two of them climbed into Ethan’s car, the comfortable familiarity of their banter making Miray relax. Ethan started the engine, fiddling with the music until a pop song blasted through the speakers.

“This song again?” Miray groaned, reaching for the volume knob. “You have the music taste of a 12-year-old.”

“Excuse me,” Ethan said, slapping her hand away from the knob. “This is a classic.”

“Classic what? A headache?”

“Laugh all you want,” Ethan said, pulling out of the driveway. “But when we get to the mall, I’m blasting it from the parking lot just to embarrass you.”

Miray laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep hanging out with me,” Ethan said with a wink.

Miray rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as they drove off toward the mall.

The mall was alive with activity, its bright lights and colorful displays drawing crowds of shoppers. Miray and Ethan wandered through the maze of stores, their banter filling the spaces between the clinking of shopping bags and the faint hum of music echoing from the overhead speakers.

“Alright,” Ethan said, holding up two shirts in front of a mirror. One was a hideous neon green, the other a questionable shade of pink. “Be honest—what screams ‘fashion icon’ more?”

Miray snorted. “Neither. Both scream, ‘I’m desperate for attention.’”

Ethan gasped, mock offended. “I’ll have you know I am a trendsetter.”

Miray raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, a trendsetter for bad decisions.”

He dramatically shoved the pink shirt back on the rack. “Fine. I’ll just stick to black like you. It’s clearly working for you.”

“Obviously,” Miray said, smirking as she tugged him toward the next store.

They spent the next hour bouncing between shops, trying on ridiculous hats, holding up overpriced items, and sneaking pictures of each other in unflattering poses. Ethan bought a pair of sunglasses he absolutely didn’t need, while Miray laughed so hard at a terrible pun on a mug that she ended up buying it.

Eventually, they found themselves in a small candy shop tucked into one corner of the mall. The smell of sugar and chocolate filled the air, and the walls were lined with shelves of colorful treats.

“Alright, let’s load up,” Ethan said, grabbing a basket and immediately tossing in a pack of gummy worms. “We need enough to get us through the week. Or at least the drive home.”

Miray rolled her eyes but followed him down the aisles, picking out a few of her favorites—fruit chews, sour strips, and some chocolate-dipped pretzels.

As she turned a corner, her gaze landed on a small display of neatly wrapped caramel candies. Her heart skipped for a moment. She knew these—they were Greyson’s favorites. She’d seen him eat them before, unwrapping them with that casual, unbothered air he had about everything.

She bit her lip, hesitating. Why am I even thinking about this? she thought.

But before she could overthink it further, she reached out and grabbed a small bag, slipping it into the basket with the rest of her candy.

“You good over there?” Ethan called from the next aisle.

“Yeah, just grabbing a few things,” Miray replied, her voice as steady as she could make it.

Ethan popped his head around the corner, holding up a bag of lollipops. “These are going to be gone before we even get home.”

Miray laughed softly. “I’m not surprised. You have zero self-control.”

“True,” Ethan said with a grin, tossing the lollipops into the basket.

After paying for their candy, they headed to the food court, the aroma of fried food and coffee swirling in the air. They found a table near the edge of the court, away from most of the crowd. Ethan immediately started sorting through the candy bags, picking out a lollipop and unwrapping it.

Miray grabbed her phone and stood. “I need to use the bathroom. Be right back.”

"Don’t take too long," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "I might eat your share of the candy."

"Try it, and you'll be signing your own death warrant," Miray replied with a playful smile as she headed toward the bathroom hallway.

The corridor was quieter than the bustling food court, the sound of her footsteps faint against the tile floor. As she rounded the corner, she noticed a small group of guys leaning against the wall near the entrance to the restrooms.

She immediately felt their eyes on her.

“Hey, look at this one,” one of them said, his voice loud enough to make her stomach twist.

Another let out a low whistle. “Where you going in such a hurry, sweetheart?”

Miray stiffened, keeping her gaze ahead as she quickened her pace.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” one called, stepping slightly away from the wall. “We’re just being friendly.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to ignore them, focusing on getting back to Ethan. But before she could take another step, one of them moved to block her path, a smirk plastered across his face.

“Come on,” he said, his tone dripping with mock charm. “Just a little conversation.”

“Leave me alone,” Miray said, her voice firm despite the fear bubbling in her chest.

The guy took another step closer. “Relax. We’re not going to hurt you—”

“Yeah, you’re not,” Ethan’s voice cut through the air, sharp and angry.

Miray turned to see him standing at the end of the corridor, his fists clenched and his expression dark.

The guy who had stepped toward her straightened, clearly unimpressed. “What’s your problem, man? We’re just talking.”

“Talking?” Ethan repeated, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped forward, putting himself between Miray and the group. “It sounded more like harassment to me.”

“Relax,” another guy said, laughing nervously. “No harm, no foul.”

“Walk away,” Ethan growled, his posture tense.

When one of them reached out as if to shove him, Ethan moved fast, grabbing the guy’s arm and twisting it back.

The others stepped forward, and chaos erupted.

Ethan swung his fist, landing a solid punch to one guy’s jaw. The man stumbled back, cursing loudly, while another lunged forward to grab Ethan by the shoulder.

“Ethan, stop!” Miray shouted, trying to step closer to pull him back.

Before she could react, one of the men shoved her hard, sending her sprawling to the ground. Pain shot up her arm as she landed awkwardly on her wrist.

“Miray!” Ethan roared, his voice breaking with anger. His eyes snapped to the guy who had pushed her, and his expression darkened.

The man smirked, raising his hands mockingly. “It was an accident. She fell.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He moved like lightning, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him against the wall. His voice was low and menacing as he growled, “You think that’s funny?”

Another man tried to swing at Ethan from behind, but Ethan ducked and twisted, landing an elbow to his ribs. The sound of the impact echoed in the hallway, followed by a groan of pain.

Miray struggled to her feet, cradling her wrist. Her heart raced as she watched Ethan fight, his movements precise and fueled by fury.

One of the men turned toward her, his hand reaching out. Before he could touch her, Ethan stepped in, landing a brutal punch that sent him stumbling back.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her,” Ethan spat, his voice shaking with rage.

The fight ended as quickly as it started. The men staggered away, muttering curses under their breath as they disappeared into the crowd.

Ethan turned to Miray immediately, his expression shifting from anger to worry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Miray said quickly, though her voice wavered. She glanced at her wrist, which was already starting to swell.

Ethan noticed, his jaw tightening. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just my wrist,” Miray said, trying to brush it off. “I fell—”

“He pushed you,” Ethan cut in, his voice sharp. “That’s not ‘just a fall.’”

Miray hesitated, looking down at her wrist. “It’s not broken. I’m fine, really.”

Ethan let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Miray said, her tone firm despite the pain.

Ethan’s eyes softened slightly, but the guilt lingered on his face. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll grab some ice on the way home.”

Miray nodded, following him back toward the food court. Her wrist throbbed with every step, but the tension in her chest began to ease. With Ethan beside her, she felt safe again.

---

The kitchen was filled with the soft hum of activity as Maxim moved around with practiced ease, pulling plates from the cupboard and arranging them on the table. Greyson stood near the stove, checking on the pasta sauce simmering gently in a pan.

Max glanced over his shoulder. “You think you can grab Ethan and Miray? I’ll finish setting up here.”

Greyson gave a curt nod, wiping his hands on a dish towel before tossing it onto the counter. “Sure.”

The house was quiet, save for the faint bubbling of water on the stove. Grey headed down the hall toward Ethan’s room first, finding the door slightly ajar.

Inside, Ethan stood with his back turned, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Ethan said, his tone brisk. “Just make sure the follow-up is on time.”

Greyson tapped his knuckles lightly against the doorframe. “Dinner’s ready,” he said simply.

Ethan turned slightly, giving a quick nod while still focused on his call. His posture remained casual, the scratches on his arm hidden from view as he waved Greyson off.

“Be there in a sec,” Ethan said, gesturing vaguely behind him.

Greyson turned, heading toward Miray’s room next. He hesitated briefly at the door before knocking twice. There was no response.

“Miray?” he called, his voice low but firm.

Still nothing. Frowning slightly, Greyson pushed the door open. The room was empty, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

As he stepped inside, the sound of a door clicking open caught his attention. He turned just as Miray stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in soft lavender pajamas that brushed against her ankles.

Greyson froze.

The light from the hallway caught her in a way that made her look almost otherworldly, her damp hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She seemed startled to see him, her lips parting slightly as she stopped mid-step.

“Angelo?” she asked softly, her voice pulling him back to reality.

He swallowed hard, his gaze meeting hers for a moment too long. Her eyes were wide, a mix of curiosity and confusion in their depths, and he felt an uncharacteristic pull in his chest. Against his will, his eyes flickered briefly to her lips before he forced himself to look away.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Oh,” Miray said, blinking. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Greyson nodded curtly, stepping back toward the door. He kept his eyes firmly ahead now, willing himself not to look back as he left the room.

The dining room buzzed softly with the sound of cutlery clinking against plates. Maxim leaned back in his chair, his usual air of confidence relaxed as he smirked at Ethan.

“You know,” Maxim said, pointing his fork at him, “you’ve got some nerve. I’m still waiting for you to pay me back for that time I covered your tab at that—what was it? Pizza place?”

“Oh, relax,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “You act like I ordered a steak. It was just a large pepperoni.”

“And four drinks,” Maxim quipped, grinning.

Miray laughed softly, her gaze dropping to her plate as she twirled pasta onto her fork. Across the table, Greyson sat silently, his sharp green eyes flicking briefly toward her every now and then.

But the laughter faded as Ethan cleared his throat, his grin slipping. He set his fork down and leaned forward slightly. “Max.”

Maxim raised an eyebrow, catching the sudden seriousness in his brother’s tone. “What?”

Ethan glanced at Miray before turning back to him. “We have something to tell you.”

The room instantly grew heavier, the playful atmosphere dissolving. Maxim set his fork down carefully, his body tensing as he sat up straighter. “What happened?”

Ethan hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before exhaling. “It’s about the mall.”

Miray stiffened, her fingers twisting anxiously under the table. She kept her gaze firmly on her plate, her heart hammering as Ethan continued.

“There were some guys,” Ethan said, his voice dropping. “They were hanging around the bathrooms, and they started harassing Miray.” His jaw tightened, and his fists curled slightly against the table. “When I got there, they were trying to corner her.”

Maxim’s face darkened immediately, his hands clenching into fists. “What?” he said sharply.

“They got physical,” Ethan admitted, his voice tighter now. “One of them pushed Miray down. She hurt her wrist.”

The room went completely still.

Miray felt the air grow heavy with tension, her fingers fidgeting nervously as she kept her eyes on her plate. Across from her, Greyson’s hand tightened around his fork, his knuckles turning white as Ethan’s words sank in.

"Motherfuckers" Maxim stood abruptly as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re both okay, right?” he demanded, his eyes scanning both of them with a mixture of worry and rage.

“We’re fine,” Ethan said quickly. “I just got some scratches, and Miray hurt her wrist when she fell. That’s it.”

Greyson cursed low under his breath, the sound sharp and angry. His fork hit the edge of his plate with a sharp clink, and he leaned back, his jaw tightening as if he was barely holding himself back.

Miray flinched slightly, her fingers twisting together even tighter.

The sound made her glance up, startled by the intensity in his expression. He looked furious—but there was something else in his eyes that made her stomach twist. He looked hurt.

“Let me see your wrist,” Greyson said, his voice sharp but quieter now as he turned to Miray.

Miray hesitated, shrinking slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly. “It’s not that bad—”

“Miray,” Maxim cut in, his tone dropping into something softer but still firm. “Let us see.”

Reluctantly, Miray pushed up her sleeve, revealing the bandage Ethan had wrapped earlier. Her wrist was red and tender, though thankfully, it wasn’t swollen.

Greyson stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved around the table. He crouched beside her, taking her wrist in his hands with a surprising gentleness that contrasted sharply with the fury burning in his eyes.

His rough fingers brushed over the bandage carefully, his touch deliberate but light. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his jaw remained tight.

“Not much,” Miray whispered.

Grey exhaled sharply, his grip on her hand loosening before he let go.

Maxim turned back to Miray, his expression still hard but laced with concern. “You’re safe now,” he said firmly. “We’ll make sure they never come near you again.”

Miray nodded slowly, her throat tight as she glanced between Maxim and Grey.

Maxim then turned to Greyson, his voice lowering but carrying a dangerous edge. “We’ll take care of them.”

Greyson’s lips curled into a slow, dark smirk. “Gladly.”

The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over everyone. Miray looked down at her wrist again, feeling the warmth of Grey’s hands lingering like a faint memory.

“Eat,” Maxim said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”