Suddenly—
The wind rushed in harder through the open window.
The lamp flickered once… twice…
and then—
Crash.
It fell.
Glass shattered across the floor as the light went out, plunging the room into darkness.
At the same moment, the sky exploded.
Thunder roared so loud it felt like the walls shook. Lightning cut through the window, bright and violent, followed immediately by heavy rain pounding against the glass.
I gasped.
Another thunderclap struck.
I screamed.
Not because of the darkness.
Not because of the broken lamp.
Lightning.
I hated it.
No—I was terrified of it.
Yet the rain… the rain was beautiful. Familiar. Comforting.
Another flash lit up the room.
I shouted again, instinctively pulling the blanket around myself.
Karl was on his feet instantly.
“Kavira,” he called sharply.
But my mind wasn’t thinking. I forgot about everything—the lamp, the glass, the couch, the fear, the rules.
I stood up.
And pain exploded through my foot.
“Ah—!”
I cried out, stumbling back.
Glass.
Tiny, sharp pieces cut into my skin. I froze, breath shaking, fear and pain mixing together.
Before I could react—
Karl was there.
In one second.
He knelt in front of me, his hands firm but careful, lifting my foot gently off the floor.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, voice tight.
Another thunderclap cracked the sky. I flinched violently, grabbing his arm without
thinking.
“I—I hate lightning,” I whispered, tears forming again. “But I love the rain… I really love the rain…”
He looked up at me.
The anger was gone.
The control was gone.
Only concern remained.
“You’re bleeding,” he said quietly.
“i didn’t mean to—”
“I know.”
Lightning flashed again. I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers digging into his sleeve.
Karl stood, lifting me effortlessly into his arms—no hesitation this time, no restraint.
He carried me to the bed, sitting me down gently.
“You’re safe,” he said firmly. “I’ve got you.”
He grabbed a towel, wrapping it carefully around my foot, inspecting it with focused calm despite the storm raging outside.
Thunder rolled again.
I whimpered.
Without thinking, he moved closer, blocking the window with his body, his hand coming up to cup the side of my face.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me. Not the sky.”
I did.
And for the first time since I’d met him…
I wasn’t afraid of him.
"Rain doesn’t hurt you,” he continued quietly. “Lightning won’t touch you. Not while I’m here.”
The rain fell harder, drumming against the glass like a heartbeat.
I realized something then—
Storms outside didn’t scare me half as much
as the way karl Casanova protected without asking permission.
And as thunder rolled again, I stayed right there—
In the calm eye of a man
who was a storm himself.
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