Recap: Ryan asked to move in with him.

Morning sunlight streamed through my apartment window, casting an accusatory glare over the chaos of boxes scattered across my living room. They weren’t there because I was moving in with him—heaven forbid—but were the aftermath of my rage-cleaning session. Somehow, scrubbing countertops and tossing out old magazines had felt like the only way to keep myself occupied.

I took a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, grimacing as the bitter liquid scraped against my mood. Part of me—maybe the foolish, optimistic part—hoped Ryan had woken up, realized how insane his grand plan was, and decided to apologize. But the more rational part of me knew better.

The buzz of my phone yanked me out of my thoughts. His name lit up the screen, and I stared at it, debating whether I could get away with tossing it out the window.

"What now?" I snapped, as soon as I picked it up.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," came his maddeningly smooth reply. "My assistant will be there in thirty minutes with the paperwork. Be ready."

I choked on my coffee. "You can’t be serious, Ryan!"

"I told you, Aisha. This isn’t up for debate."

"And I told you that this is none of your business!" I shot back, my voice rising with each word. "Who even does this? You’re acting like some—"

"Manipulative Jerk? Control freak?" he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone that made my blood boil. "Call me whatever you want, but I'll resolve it."

"Resolve? You’re not resolving anything! You’re—"

A sharp knock at the door cut me off. My heart sank. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t...

But when I opened the door, there stood Ryan—tall, composed, and dressed in a sleek navy suit—instead of his assistant. His phone still pressed to his ear, and in his other hand, a folder.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, crossing my arms as I blocked his path.

"Hello to you too." Ryan lowered his phone, and gave a short scoff.

Before I could respond, he stepped inside, brushing past me like he owned the place.

"You can’t just barge in here like this!" I said, spinning around to face him.

His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk. "I’m your fiancé, remember? I have privileges."

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes so hard I practically saw my own brain. "You’re delusional."

"Maybe," he said lightly, setting the folder on my coffee table. "But this situation requires action, and I’m delivering it."

"You’re delivering insanity, is what you’re doing!" I retorted, throwing my hands up in frustration. "I am not moving in with you, Ryan. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

"Fine."

Eh?

I blinked. "Fine?"

He nodded, with a tight smile.

Hold on! That tight smile could only mean one thing—trouble.

"If you won’t move in with me," he said, loosening his tie calmly, while I patiently waited for him to finish his line.
"Then I’ll move in here."

My jaw dropped touching the floor, and for a split second I lost my ability to talk, but then I regained my consciousness.

"You what?" I shrieked out loud enough to make him stumble back.

"You heard me," he smirked before settling onto my couch like he belonged there. "If I can’t guarantee your safety at my place, I’ll guarantee it here."

"You’re insane!" I shouted, gesturing wildly at him.
"This is not happening!"

"It already is,"

I groaned, pressing the heels of my palms to my temples.
"It’s unethical. It’s illegal! You can’t just invade my life—"

"Too bad, I just did." he interrupted, standing and fixing me with a steady gaze.

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, my phone buzzed in my hand. Glancing at the screen, I saw my dad’s name flashing.

"Pick it up, sweetheart." Ryan called out, with that sickening grin plastered on his face. I quickly sidestepped and headed for the small balcony when he got distracted with the dried-up plant in the corner

The moment I answered, my dad's loud voice boomed through the phone.
"What's going on there?"

I frowned, confusion taking over.
"Dad, you need to give me some context."

"Ryan told me everything," he said, his voice a mix of relief and disappointment.

My stomach twisted. "Everything?"

"Yes, he laid it all out. And I'm glad he did. Aisha, this isn’t something you can take lightly!”

"Oh my god Dad! I had it under control!"
My voice rose despite my best efforts.

"If it wasn't for Ryan, God knows what that maniac would do to you.And you didn’t even tell me about this?" he grumbled, in disdain.

"I didn’t tell you because I handled it!"

"Well, Ryan did." Dad snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "That’s why you’re moving in with him."

I almost dropped the phone.
"I'm WHAT?"

"It’s already decided," he said firmly. "I asked him to help you and I trust him. He’s doing the responsible thing."

"Responsible?" I laughed, bitterly. "Dad, you can’t make decisions like this for me!"

"I just did. It's either that or you coming home."
Before I could fire back, the line went dead, leaving me standing there completely bewildered.

I.. I can't.. believe it.

My dad trusted Ryan—over me. Me. His own daughter?
It was a first, and it stung more than I wanted to admit. He’d never done something like this before. Not once.

Ryan must have exaggerated the whole situation. Twisted it. So that he could turn it into his favor.
Sick Bastard.

Just as I turned around, Ryan’s gaze locked onto mine, instantly. The faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips told me he knew exactly how the call had gone.

"I hope you're packed up," he winked at me, grabbing his folder and giving it a slight shake.

To hell with him!

My fists clenched, my jaw tightening as I tried to keep my composure. Ryan wasn’t just insufferable—he was relentless. Every word, every move of his felt like a calculated strike, and worse? He was winning!!

I stomped towards the door, fully intending to bolt before he could corner me again. But of course, he moved faster. A blur of motion, and suddenly he was there, blocking the doorway, his eyes fixed on mine, as if daring me to challenge him.

I glared up at him, fists still clenched at my sides, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

"Move." I gritted out, my voice barely containing the anger bubbling inside me. But he didn’t flinch, nor budge an inch.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you. Now move."

"Not until we talk." His voice had that edge of authority, the one he probably used to intimidate boardrooms. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a boardroom.

"Oh, you want to talk now?" I snapped, my voice dropping to a low hiss. "Let’s start with how you manipulated my dad into thinking I need babysitting!"

"I didn’t manipulate your dad. I informed him. Big difference."

"Unbelievable." The word slipped out before I could stop it, and I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply in frustration. "It was unnecessary, Ryan."

"I don’t care if you think it’s unnecessary. I’ll go to any lengths to protect you."

I let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Yeah, like snitching—"

"I didn’t want to," he admitted quickly cutting me off.
"You wouldn’t listen to me, so I went to someone who would."

"That's because I don’t need you deciding what’s best for me!"

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"Clearly, someone needs to."

My chest tightened, heat crawling up, and for a split second, I wanted to argue, to yell, to throw every insult in the book at him. But instead, my mind betrayed me with silence, each word I wanted to say tangled in my throat.All I could think was to get out of his sight. To run. At least from him.

"Get out of my way," I snapped, trying to sidestep him, but he was like an immovable wall. He reached out, but I quickly pulled back my hand, his hand brushed against my wrist.

"Aisha," he started, and for once, his voice didn’t carry that smugness. It was softer. Almost pleading.
"I'm doing this because I can't... I won't let anything happen to you."

Again? For god's sake! I was done listening to him. I was done with everything!

In an impulsive, probably questionable decision, I stomped on his toes. Hard. He winced out loud, but I didn’t wait for an apology. I darted toward the door and smashed the elevator button like my life depended on it.

The door inched closer, and I shot him one last look, giving him a glare sharp enough to slice through glass.
.
.
.
.

When the elevator finally came to halt, I exhaled like I'd been holding my breath for a century, relieved to be alone.

"Don't avoid me. We need to talk."

I jumped, startled to see Ryan standing in front of the elevator, his tie slightly askew and his hair damp with sweat.
Just to be sure I quickly glanced at the floor number —first floor.
How did he …?

Then it clicked. He must’ve barrelled down the stairs like a madman when the elevator halted on the fifth floor ( a mistake I made when I furiously pressed whichever button I came in contact with)
His ragged breathing and flushed face pretty much told the story.

I can't believe he's that desperate to win.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You chased me down eight flights of stairs?"

"Damn it, Aisha. You think I enjoy chasing you down?"
He slammed his hand against the elevator door frame, with a frustrated groan.

I blinked, caught between disbelief and annoyance.
"Well I didn't ask you to chase, did I?"

"You left me no choice," he countered, wiping his brow with a handkerchief he magically pulled from his pocket. Despite the state he was in, he still managed to look composed as ever—or as composed as someone who just sprinted down eight flights of stairs could.

"Here’s a thought: leave me alone,"
I muttered under my breath, being aware of the CCTV cameras in the lobby.

Ryan stepped forward, and I instinctively stepped back.

"And here’s a thought: stop making this harder than it needs to be," he groaned out loud, with a deep frown.

The elevator doors closed behind him, that's when my eyes darted at his hand firmly pressing against the button. Ugh! Dammit!

"Harder? You’ve been making executive decisions about my life." I glared at him.

"Trust me, I’m well aware," he said dryly. "But this isn’t about work. It’s about—"

"I swear if you say safety one more time, I'll scream." I warned, pointing a finger

"Fine then, potential danger."

"No! It's not 'fine'. Just stop talking and leave me alone."

He sighed, the kind of sigh that screamed I’m being patient because you’re difficult which further boiled my blood.
"Do you think I enjoy this? Forcing you into a situation you clearly don’t want?"

"Yes!" I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut through the air between us.
"It appears to be."

My chest heaved, anger clawing at my ribs. This wasn’t about the move. Not entirely. It was about how small I felt, being backed into corners I hadn’t even seen coming.

Ryan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes softer than I expected.

"I get it," he began quietly. "You’re angry. And you have every right to be. But I’m not doing this to control you."

I laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. "Could’ve fooled me."

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly reevaluating his life choices.
"Okay, you don’t want to move into my place, fine. But if something happens while I could’ve done more, I won’t forgive myself."

I blinked, letting out another humorless laugh.
"Since when do you care?"

The moment the words left my mouth, his gaze snapped back to mine. I arched an eyebrow, daring him to respond, but instead, he broke eye contact, lowering his head. He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a deep, audible sigh.

"Aisha, please," he said in a raw and unsteady voice. "Just until this situation is resolved—move in with me."

He pleaded.
Genuinely requested, which sent an unexpected chill down my spine—a jolt of electricity, a fleeting spark that I tried, so hard to ignore but failed miserably.

I wanted to shoot him down with something snarky. But this time... I didn’t know what to say.

Because, damn it, a part of me wanted to believe him. And maybe that was what scared me the most.

"And if I say no?" I asked, though the fight in my voice had dulled.

"Then, it's your call."

I crossed my arms, my gaze dropping to the floor as I mulled over his words. Every fiber of me wanted to push back, to stand my ground, but the weight of his plea lingered in the air, unsettling.

After a long pause, filled only by the rhythmic dinging of the elevator and the sound of our breaths.

"Fine," I muttered reluctantly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But only temporarily."

"Sure." he replied without hesitation, his eyes lighting up. "Are we cool?"

"Whatever, but I have a couple of conditions."

"Done."

He might think he won.
But the story's not ending until I win.

********

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