Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 191

Amara tied her hair up into a rough bun, letting stray curls fall where they pleased.

She walked barefoot across the room. Her steps were light, but her mind was restless. The closet stood slightly ajar, groaning as if it had been opened too often in too short a time. She gripped the handle, pulled it wider, and stared at the few things Elias had carried into her life and quietly made permanent.

He usually spends days with her now. His shoes lined beside hers on the floor, his crisp shirts were pressed and hanging in place, and his scent clinging to everything he touched.

He hadn’t just taken space in her apartment. He had seeped into her routines, her breaths, and her silences. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She sometimes found herself pouring two cups of coffee before remembering he liked his darker, and stronger. She set the blanket aside at night, knowing his body ran warm enough to keep her from shivering.

He had also been helping her eat healthier lately. As a writer, she was often buried in her laptop, juggling endless drafts and conference calls with editors.

Cooking was the last thing on her mind. Most days she lived on takeout, and when deadlines pressed too hard for even that, she survived on nothing but snacks and junk food. Once she settled into her writing space, nothing could pull her away until she was finished. But lately, he always made sure he brought food to her and if he would step out for the day, he orders lunch for her beforehand and then, he comes back just in time for dinner, or to prepare it if she doesn’t.

Elias sat on the bed with his phone buried in his hand. His brows was tight with every line he read. His focus was sharp, and intense, like he wasn’t here with her at all but somewhere else entirely.

She sighed, brushing her fingers along his coats, nudging them to the side to make room for her things. But then, her hand stilled.

Something hard, cold, and heavy nestled in the fold of one of his darker coats. It had a heavy weight, and a heart dropping shape.

Her stomach dropped.

Carefully, her hand reached in. Her pulse skipped, raced, and stopped all at once. When she pulled it out, she nearly stumbled backward.

A gun.

The metal gleamed faintly beneath the closet light. Amara froze, the chill of it crawling up her skin, and piercing her lungs. It was too real, and too heavy to be impossible.

Her breath caught. "Elias..."

Her voice cracked.

He looked up, startled to hear such vulnerability coming from her. The phone dropped slightly in his hand.

His eyes met hers, and then, dropped to what she was holding. For a split second, he couldn’t meet her eyes again.

He stood slowly, like a man caught off guard but already calculating. "Amara."

Her grip tightened on the gun, though she wanted nothing more than to fling it far away from herself. Her eyes locked onto his, hard, and demanding. "Why do you have this?"

Her voice shook him, but her stare did not. Deep behind her eyes, he could see how scared she was.

He blinked. His lips parted, then pressed together again as if he was weighing which version of the truth would suit him best. He stepped closer, and his hands raised slightly. The act was not in surrender but in caution.

"You weren’t supposed to see that," he said, his tone calm. Technically, that was the truth. He had accidentally forgot to drop this back at his apartment last night, and came here with it. He was supposed to leave with it this morning.

Her chest tightened. "That’s not an answer. Elias. Why do you have a gun?"

He let out a breath, dragging a hand across his jaw. "It’s... protection."

The lie slid from his mouth smoother than silk, but it was still a lie. She felt it. The lie clung to the air, thick, and suffocating.

"Protection?" she repeated, her voice sharp, and bitter. "From what? From who?"

His jaw worked. His eyes searched hers like he could bend her into believing him if he stared hard enough. "You don’t need to worry about it. It’s nothing."

Her hand trembled. The gun turned heavier with every second she held it. "Nothing?" She almost laughed, but the sound would have cracked her throat in two. "Do you hear yourself? This isn’t nothing, Elias. This is a gun. In my closet. In your coat that’s in my home."

He moved closer, slowly, and carefully, with his hand reaching out. "Give it to me, Amara."

She shook her head, stepping back. The gun was still clutched against her chest like she didn’t know whether to protect herself with it or from it. "No. Not until you tell me the truth."

Elias stilled. His calmness faltered, just for a heartbeat. His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

"Amara..." His voice dropped. He almost pleaded. "Please. Just give it to me. I’ll explain."

Her pulse thundered. Her mind spun. Every moment she had shared with him replayed in flashes

She replayed his easy smile, his rare laughter, and his warmth at night. And now, this. A gun. A lie. A secret too heavy for her chest to hold.

"You’re lying," she whispered, the words breaking.

He flinched. Just barely, but she caught it.

She shook her head, tears pressing against the corners of her eyes though she refused to let them fall. "Who are you, Elias? Who the hell are you really?"

Silence swallowed the room.

Elias exhaled, slow, and controlled. His eyes locked on hers like he was trying to anchor her before she slipped away. "I’m me," he said quietly. "The same man who makes your coffee too strong, who steals your side of the blanket at night, and who can’t fall asleep without your hair in his face. That’s me. Nothing about this changes that."

Her laugh cracked, sharp and broken. "Doesn’t change that? You brought a gun into my life, Elias. Into my home. And you’re standing here, feeding me half-truths, expecting me to... to what? Smile and trust you?"

His gaze didn’t waver. "Yes."

The audacity of the certainty in his tone froze her.

Her chest heaved, anger and fear battling in her ribs. She wanted to scream. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to also run.

"Why?" she asked, her voice small now, breaking under the weight of everything. "Why should I trust you?"

He stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. His hand finally brushed over hers, firm yet careful as he slid the gun away from her trembling grip. His touch lingered on her skin, grounding and dangerous all at once.

"Because," he whispered, his eyes burning into hers, "I’d never let anything hurt you. Not even me."