No flowers for the dead - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading No flowers for the dead, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of No flowers for the dead.
Alina’s mother once told her that love without limits was like fire in a paper house—beautiful until it destroyed everything.
She hadn’t believed her then.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
It was almost midnight when Elias finally returned. No warning, no call. Just the sound of the penthouse door unlocking and his heavy steps crossing polished floors like he hadn’t just walked away from a future he was supposed to inherit.
Alina didn’t rush to greet him.
She sat curled on the sofa, legs tucked under her, a blanket around her shoulders. A half-read book rested on her lap, forgotten. The soup had gone cold hours ago.
He stood in the doorway, shadows under his eyes, tension radiating from every inch of his body.
“You’re late,” she said, gently.
“I left,” he replied.
“Left what?”
He walked over, crouched in front of her, and took her hand like he needed the anchor. “The deal. The arrangement. My father. Her.”
A cold fear twisted in her stomach. “You… walked away?”
“I told them I wouldn’t marry Elena. That I couldn’t. Not when every time I close my eyes, I see you.”
She pulled her hand away. Not in anger. In fear.
“Elias… do you understand what that means?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t just walk away from your father. From them. You don’t just say no and think they’ll let you go.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t care.”
“You should.”
He reached for her again, slower this time, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t want a life where I have to pretend you don’t exist.”
Alina’s breath caught. Not because she didn’t want to hear it—but because she’d dreamed of hearing it too long.
“You don’t get to burn everything down and leave me holding the ashes,” she whispered. “If this ends badly, they’ll come after me too. Not just you. They’ll ruin me. Break me.”
His fingers brushed her cheek. “Then we’ll run.”
“Run to where?”
“I’ll build something else. Just for us. I’ve done it before.”
She wanted to believe him.
But even love had its limits. And they were dancing along the edge of theirs.
Still, when he leaned in, when his lips met hers with the desperation of a man who had just set fire to everything he’d ever been taught to protect—she didn’t push him away.
She kissed him back, fiercely, like her heart didn’t know better. Like she wasn’t terrified.
Because the truth was: they were a fire in a paper house.
And it was already burning.
She hadn’t believed her then.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
It was almost midnight when Elias finally returned. No warning, no call. Just the sound of the penthouse door unlocking and his heavy steps crossing polished floors like he hadn’t just walked away from a future he was supposed to inherit.
Alina didn’t rush to greet him.
She sat curled on the sofa, legs tucked under her, a blanket around her shoulders. A half-read book rested on her lap, forgotten. The soup had gone cold hours ago.
He stood in the doorway, shadows under his eyes, tension radiating from every inch of his body.
“You’re late,” she said, gently.
“I left,” he replied.
“Left what?”
He walked over, crouched in front of her, and took her hand like he needed the anchor. “The deal. The arrangement. My father. Her.”
A cold fear twisted in her stomach. “You… walked away?”
“I told them I wouldn’t marry Elena. That I couldn’t. Not when every time I close my eyes, I see you.”
She pulled her hand away. Not in anger. In fear.
“Elias… do you understand what that means?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t just walk away from your father. From them. You don’t just say no and think they’ll let you go.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t care.”
“You should.”
He reached for her again, slower this time, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t want a life where I have to pretend you don’t exist.”
Alina’s breath caught. Not because she didn’t want to hear it—but because she’d dreamed of hearing it too long.
“You don’t get to burn everything down and leave me holding the ashes,” she whispered. “If this ends badly, they’ll come after me too. Not just you. They’ll ruin me. Break me.”
His fingers brushed her cheek. “Then we’ll run.”
“Run to where?”
“I’ll build something else. Just for us. I’ve done it before.”
She wanted to believe him.
But even love had its limits. And they were dancing along the edge of theirs.
Still, when he leaned in, when his lips met hers with the desperation of a man who had just set fire to everything he’d ever been taught to protect—she didn’t push him away.
She kissed him back, fiercely, like her heart didn’t know better. Like she wasn’t terrified.
Because the truth was: they were a fire in a paper house.
And it was already burning.
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.