Chapter 52-Jealous of a cutie

Chapter 52: 52-Jealous of a cutie

The late hours of the night had finally settled over the fortress. The storm outside had not stopped, but after hours of listening to thunder, crashing waves, and howling wind, Aymara had almost grown used to the noise.

The fortress remained steady, warm, and brightly lit, completely isolated from the chaos outside.

After cleaning up from the late night snack, Aymara finally took a shower.

The warm water washed away the lingering smell of hot pot from her hair and skin, and for the first time that day, she allowed herself to relax under the flow of the warm water.

When she stepped out, she changed into a soft nightgown, dried her hair, and glanced at the clock. It was late.

She yawned, "Time for bed."

She had already checked that everything was secure before heading toward Nathaniel’s room. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable before she went to sleep.

It had become a habit, one she suspected she was developing far too quickly.

Aymara pushed open the door. "Nate?"

When there was no answer. She stepped inside and frowned when she saw that the bed was empty.

"Nathaniel?" She checked the sitting area, but there was nothing there either. The curtains were drawn, the lights were dimmed, and even Yaya’s little bed was empty.

Aymara’s brows furrowed. Where had they gone?

She turned toward the bathroom. Just as she was about to knock, she heard Nathaniel’s voice from inside. It was soft, much softer than usual.

Aymara paused and listened on what he was saying. "...there you go." A small sound followed. "Meow."

Aymara blinked and opened the door slightly. She stopped, her expression slowly changing when she spotted the scene inside.

Nathaniel was sitting beside the bathtub, wearing a comfortable set of sleep clothes with his sleeves rolled up. In the bathtub was Yaya. The white cat was being gently washed while Nathaniel carefully worked water through her fur.

"Easy. Don’t move too much."

Yaya gave a displeased little meow.

Nathaniel smiled. "I know. You don’t like baths."

"Meow."

"I don’t like them either." He dipped his hand into the water and carefully rinsed her fur. "But you have to be clean."

Yaya looked at him accusingly.

Nathaniel laughed. "Don’t look at me like that."

Aymara stood in the doorway, unable to believe what she was seeing. Nathaniel was having a conversation with a cat. An actual conversation.

"You were outside for so long that your fur got dirty."

"Meow."

"I know." He gently washed one of her paws. "You probably got scared."

"Meow."

"But you’re safe now because I am here to protect you."

Yaya’s tail flicked.

Nathaniel smiled. "You have your own bed, food and you have me." His voice softened even further. "So you don’t have to be scared anymore."

Aymara’s heart gave a strange little twist, and then jealousy immediately followed. She really couldn’t stand this cat. It was too cute and that was the problem.

If Yaya had been an ugly, grumpy-looking creature, Aymara could have disliked her without feeling guilty. But no. The cat was beautiful, with fluffy white fur, bright eyes, tiny paws, and a soft little face.

Now Nathaniel was bathing her as though she were some precious princess. It irritated her. She groaned.

Aymara’s lips pressed into a thin line. Why did this cat get everything?

Nathaniel was gentle with her. He talked to her, smiled at her and touched her without hesitation. He gave her his full attention. Most importantly, he didn’t look at her as though he was constantly wondering whether she would hurt him again.

Aymara’s heart sank slightly. That was what actually hurt. It wasn’t really Yaya. It was the difference in treatment and the roles they held in Nathaniel’s life.

Nathaniel could look at Yaya without fear, doubt, and without questioning her intentions. But whenever he looked at Aymara, there was always that small hesitation, that invisible wall, that question in his eyes: Can I trust you this time?

Aymara lowered her gaze. She hated that question, mostly because she knew she had given him every reason to ask it.

She watched him gently rinse Yaya’s fur. There was another cutie in his life now, and she hoarded all of his attention. He didn’t even notice her arrival.

Aymara’s jealousy faded into a quiet sadness. Maybe she really had lost more than six years... she had lost the version of Nathaniel who used to trust her without thinking too much about it.

"Aymara?"

She blinked. Nathaniel had noticed her and was looking toward the doorway.

"Do you need something?"

Aymara quickly shook her head. "No." She forced a small smile. "I was just about to go to sleep." Her gaze fell on Yaya. "I came to say goodnight."

Nathaniel looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Goodnight."

Aymara smiled. "Goodnight, Nate." She turned to leave, but after a few steps, she heard the soft splash of water behind her.

"Wait," Nathaniel called out.

The word was quiet, almost reluctant. Aymara stopped and looked back with anticipation.

Nathaniel had lifted Yaya from the bathtub. The cat shivered in his arms, and he immediately wrapped her in a fluffy towel.

"Come here," Yaya meowed softly and coiled into his arms. "You’re freezing."

He rubbed the towel over her fur, his attention fixed entirely on her.

Aymara watched him for a moment longer than she meant to, then looked away. She had come to say goodnight. She should leave. That was what she had intended to do.

But Nathaniel glanced toward her again. "You don’t have to stand there."

Aymara’s fingers tightened around the edge of her nightgown. "I... I know that..."

"Then why are you still there?"

His tone wasn’t sharp. If anything, it sounded uncertain. Aymara searched his face.

’Because I wanted to stay,’ she thought. ’I want you to ask me to stay,’ the thoughts rose too quickly, too honestly, and she swallowed it before it could escape.

"Since you’re already getting ready for sleep, and I’m already done..." She smiled faintly. "I’ll let you rest."

Nathaniel lowered his gaze to Yaya. "You’re leaving?"

The question was so quiet that Aymara almost thought she had imagined it. She looked at him again. "Would you rather I stayed?"

Nathaniel’s hand paused against the towel. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the storm pressing against the fortress walls.

His eyes met hers. There was no accusation in them this time, no cold distance, only hesitation and and a flicker of warmth beneath it.

"I didn’t say that."

"No," Aymara replied softly. "You didn’t."

Neither of them moved. Nathaniel looked away first. "Goodnight, Aymara."

The use of her name made her chest tighten. "Goodnight, Nate."