Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel)

Clairessa's POV

My body trembled, a deep shiver running through me like heat and cold were

warring inside my veins.

Through the fog, Gabriel's voice cut in—urgent, panicked.

"Clairessa... hey, are you okay? Look at me... please."

Then I felt his hands—lifting me, holding me close, peeling away layers of

clothing.

The dream came in flashes. The soft splash of water. His arms supported me as

he bathed me—like I was breakable, like I still meant something to him.

He dressed me gently, laid me in bed, tucked the duvet around me, then pressed

a kiss to my forehead.

When he turned to go, I reached for him, my fingers curling around his. I

remember whispering it... three small words.

"I love you."

A voice, distant and persistent, tugged me out of the warmth.

"Claire... Claire..."

My eyes flew open, blinking against the light. Adrian's face swam into focus.

"Thank God," he breathed. "You're awake."

I stared at him for a moment, disoriented, my heart still wrapped in the remnants

of the dream. I glanced to the side, searching for Gabriel—for proof that it wasn't

just in my head.

But he wasn't there.

"What's wrong?" Adrian asked, noticing the way my eyes darted around the room.

"Nothing," I whispered. "Just... nothing."

"It's okay," he said softly, brushing my hair behind my ear, his fingers warm

against my temple. "My dad mentioned your windows were open, and the cold air

got in. He thinks that's what made you sick."

Windows?

I didn't remember leaving any windows open. For a moment, confusion clouded

my mind—but then it clicked. Gabriel must've come up with that story to cover

what really happened. He hadn't told Adrian the truth.

Yet.

I played along with a faint nod. "I guess I forgot to check."

"You didn't do anything wrong." Adrian's tone was firm, though his eyes held a hint

of guilt.

He dropped onto the bed, settling beside me. "I should've been here."

"It's okay, Adrian, you've already done so much for me. I'm really grateful."

I moved to sit up, but before I could, Adrian's hands slid behind me, steadying my

back as he helped me into a sitting position.

"How do you feel?" he asked, studying my face.

I swallowed hard, my throat still dry and sore. "Good," I whispered, barely able to

get the word out. "I feel... good."

"I'm glad to hear that." He paused. "My dad said he checked on you?"

I turned my face away, avoiding his eyes.

"He was... helpful," I said softly, my eyes dropping to the blanket gathered in my

lap.

That was all I could say. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I tried to act okay, not

wanting to give anything away.

Adrian's hand rested on my leg, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles across my

knee. "I really did wish I was here last night," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I left

without saying anything."

That's when I finally turned toward him.

He went on. "My dad sent me to retrieve an important document, and the storm

held me back longer than I expected. I didn't mean to disappear on you—he

rushed me out before I had a chance to explain."

I stayed quiet. My body still felt weak and heavy, but that wasn't what had me

silent. It was the emotions swirling inside—the ones he couldn't see.noveldrama

I drew in a steady breath. "Adrian, I told you already... it's alright. Your dad was

there for me, so... it all worked out."

To prove it, I sat up a little straighter, stretching my arms and rolling my shoulders—

even though every movement burned.

His lips curved into a small, relieved smile. "Then I guess we should thank my

dad."

"We should."

Then he chuckled softly. "I actually threatened him in a text last night—told him to

take care of you. Looks like he listened."

"You did?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise, even letting out a soft laugh to

match his. But deep down, I knew better.

Gabriel hadn't taken care of me because Adrian told him to.

He did it because... he still cared. Because even after everything, he couldn't

walk away and leave me like that.

Adrian reached for me, his fingers brushing under my chin as he gently turned my

face toward his. "I'd do anything for you, Clairessa."

I forced a smile, just for a second, then leaned away, masking the shift with a

cough that scraped my raw throat.

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry—you probably need water. Your throat must feel like

sandpaper."

I gave a slow nod.

Adrian stood without hesitation. "I'll be right back."

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized

I'd been holding. Relief flooded through me—grateful, if only for a few minutes of

space. A moment to breathe.

Inside, my thoughts spun. So it hadn't been a dream. Gabriel had really come to

check on me in the night.

The last thing I remembered was coming home soaked from the rain. I took a

warm shower, changed, and climbed into bed. Then, sometime later, a sudden

chill settled in. My body started to shake, my bones ached, and I couldn't move—

like I was trapped inside myself.

And if Gabriel hadn't come... I wasn't sure what would've happened to me.

In spite of everything—the anger, the betrayal—he still put my well-being before

the storm between us.

Not many people would do that.

His type was... rare.

The door opened again, pulling me from my thoughts. Adrian walked in, balancing

a tray in his hands.

"I come bearing breakfast," he announced as he approached the bed.

I offered a soft smile. "Thank you."

He set the tray beside me. There was a bowl of steaming chicken soup, a bottle of

water, and a small plate of sliced fruit.

"All for you."

Adrian picked up the water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and placed it gently in my

hand. "Let's start with this."

I took it, and instead of sipping, I tilted it back and nearly finished it in one go.

His eyes widened. "Wow, you were really thirsty, huh?"

I gave a sheepish nod. "I guess I was."

I reached for the spoon, stirring the soup gently. The delicious aroma hit my nose.

It smelled amazing.

Unable to resist, I took a spoonful. As the spicy liquid hit my tongue, the flavor

kicked in—sweet, spicy... home.

A hum escaped before I could stop it. "Mmm. This tastes so good..."

"It does...?" Adrian asked, a little surprised.

I nodded, setting the spoon down and meeting his gaze. "Yeah. And... it's my

favorite after being sick. You remembered. Thank you."

I meant it. Adrian had been kind, thoughtful even. Maybe he wasn't as

heartless as I'd once believed. Maybe one mistake didn't make him

irredeemable—especially when I wasn't completely innocent myself.

He lifted his shoulders in a half-grin. "As much as I'd love to take credit, this was

all my dad."

"Your dad?" I repeated, needing to hear it again.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I walked into the house and found him in the kitchen. I was

like—what is happening? It was weird."

"Weird?" I tilted my head.

"Because my dad hasn't cooked for

himself or anyone in years," he said,

shaking his head. "I haven't even

tasted this, but I assumed his skills

were long gone."

"You don't live with your dad, Adrian. You can't be so sure he hasn't started

cooking again—for himself or... someone else."

I smiled, soft and genuine. One I didn't even try to hide.

Because I knew the truth.

Gabriel had cooked for me before—more times than I could count. It had become

his quiet way of caring, his language of love.

He knew the story: how my mother made spicy soup after every fever when I was

a child. And somehow, he'd remembered every detail—right down to the taste.

There was no way he made this soup for anyone else.

No way this wasn't for me.

And maybe... just maybe... that meant there was still hope.

That beneath all the chaos and anger, he still loved me—and just maybe, there was

a chance he could forgive me for everything I'd done.

Because if there wasn't, he never would've gone out of his way to do this.

Adrian's voice broke the quiet.

"You're smiling to yourself." His brow creased slightly. "What did I miss?"

I blinked. "Oh." I pulled the smile back before it stretched too far. "Nothing. The

soup... it just reminds me of my mom's recipe."

"Well, that's high praise," he said, a little smug. "Let me try it."

He took a spoonful, pausing as the flavor settled.

"It's... nice. Could use more kick, though. My dad did alright, but if I made it, it'd

be perfect."

A small laugh slipped from me. "Maybe. But this is perfect for me."

I reached for the spoon again, ready for another spoonful—until Adrian's hand slid

over mine, stopping me gently.

"Here," he offered, his voice low as he leaned in. "Let me."

I gave a slight shake of my head, but he didn't move back. Instead, he took the

spoon from my fingers and shifted closer—closer than I wanted.

He lifted the spoon to my lips. I parted them, letting him feed me.

"Thank you," I murmured.

Our eyes met.

I turned away, giving a faint nod as he brought another spoonful to my lips.

I let him feed me a few more times, the heat from the soup spreading through my

chest, curling into the ache in my limbs.

Then he lifted the spoon again.

I leaned back a little. "I'm okay. I'm full."

"You barely ate," he said with a soft smile, nudging the spoon gently toward me.

"Just a few more?"

Reluctantly, I let him feed me one

more spoonful, trying not to flinch

when his fingers brushed against

mine again. Every touch reminded

me of Gabriel—of the dream. Of the

truth hiding inside it.

Adrian's voice dropped to a whisper. "I'll take care of you, Clairessa. I'm never

letting you go again."