Unfinished Glances: A Love That Never Began - Part 2

He ran.
Faster than he ever had before.
His heart pounded against his ribs, each breath ragged and uneven. His sharp eyes darted from tree to tree, desperately searching for her.
The forest stretched endlessly, shadows twisting between the branches. The thought of her—injured, alone, vulnerable in this wild, dangerous place—sent a chill down his spine.
His hands clenched into fists. Where is she?
His legs burned from the relentless pace, but he didn’t stop.
He couldn't.
Then—
A glimpse of movement.
His breath caught.
She was there.
Leaning against a tree, struggling to take a step.
His heart clenched painfully.
She was trying so hard—too hard.
His relief was so overwhelming that, for a moment, he just stood there, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.
And then—
"He called her by her name"
His voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding, filled with fear, frustration—something deeper.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned, her eyes meeting his.
For a second, everything else faded.
The wind stilled. The forest held its breath.
Then, as if he weren’t even there, she turned away and tried to walk again.
His relief turned into anger.
He strode toward her, his voice harsher than he intended. "Why are you doing this?! Why are you so careless?"
She didn’t answer.
She took another step.
And stumbled.
"Damn it!"
He lunged forward, reaching for her, but before he could catch her, she pushed herself up again.
That was it.
His patience snapped.
In one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him.
Her breath hitched as her body collided against his.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
His chest pressed against hers, their breaths mingling in the cold air. His grip was strong, unrelenting, holding her as if she might disappear if he let go. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the intensity in his eyes locking her in place. His fingers tightened around her wrist, his other hand settling on her waist, steadying her. Every part of her was aware of him—his warmth, his strength, the way his heartbeat was just as erratic as hers.
"Why?" His voice was lower now, rough with frustration, with something deeper. "Why do you always push yourself so damn hard?"
She turned her face away, refusing to meet his gaze.
His fingers tightened around her wrist.
"Do you think proving yourself means ignoring your pain? Do you think being strong means hiding your struggles?"
Still, she didn’t answer.
She struggled against his grip, trying to pull away.
But he didn’t let go.
Instead—
He tightened his hold even more.
His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered in a dangerously low voice—
"Don't even dare to come out of my grip."
She gasped, her body tensing.
Her heartbeat pounded against her chest.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, breath shallow.
Something shifted in his gaze—an intensity, a fire, a silent plea.
"Why do you always do this?" His voice was softer now, almost desperate. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"
She swallowed hard, refusing to answer.
So, he did something unexpected.
He leaned in, so close that his breath tickled her skin, and whispered—
"If you’re angry at me, punish me. Scold me. Do whatever you want… but don’t punish yourself because of me."
For the first time, her resolve wavered.
Her eyes burned, her throat tightened.
She tried once more to step away, to put distance between them.
But her legs failed her.
She stumbled.
And before she could fall, he caught her—again.
With a frustrated sigh, he bent down and scooped her into his arms.
"Fine," he muttered.
She gasped, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.
"I can walk," she protested, her voice barely above a whisper.
He ignored her.
His grip on her was strong, secure—like he would never let go.
"Not today, you can’t," he muttered. "And I’m not letting you try."
She went still.
For the first time, she didn’t fight him.
The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric of his uniform, and despite the pain in her leg, she felt… safe.
He walked in silence, carrying her effortlessly through the forest.
The tension from earlier softened, replaced by something neither of them dared to name.
After a while, she whispered, "Were you really that worried?"
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a confession—
"More than I should have been."
Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder.
Her heart pounded.
She wanted to ask more. She wanted to hear him say it again.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she closed her eyes, just for a moment, and let herself rest against him.
He carried her all the way back.
As they neared the OTA base, he knew they couldn’t be seen like this.
Reluctantly, he stopped.
"You have to walk from here," he said, his voice gentle.
She nodded.
The moment he set her down, her legs wobbled.
Without hesitation, his hands were on her waist, steadying her.
Her breath hitched.
For a long second, he just held her there.
Then—
"Try to walk," he murmured.
She took a slow, careful step.
Two cadets noticed them and rushed over.
“Sir, we’ll take her.”
His hands hesitated before letting go.
He stepped back as they helped her toward the medical bay.
His eyes followed her for a moment.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

...........................................................................

He sat in his darkened room, the only sound his own uneven breathing.
His hands were still curled into fists, his body tense.
His mind replayed everything.
The fear when he couldn’t find her.
The relief when he did.
The way his heart clenched seeing her struggle.
The way she felt in his arms.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"Why… Why did I panic so much?" He muttered.
She was just a cadet.
Nothing more.
Just a cadet.
Then why did it feel like she was more than that?
Why did he care so much?
He shook his head.
"No… No way." He muttered. "I don’t have feelings for her. Not at all."
But somewhere deep inside—
A tiny voice whispered:
Are you sure?

.................................................................................

She lay in bed, exhausted.
After freshening up, she had applied cream to her leg and gone straight to sleep.
She didn’t think about what happened today.
She didn’t think about him.
She forced herself not to.
But as she drifted off—
A single thought remained.
Why did his arms feel like home?