Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 643

Chapter 643: Don’t Want Space

Olivia’s POV

For several minutes, I remained seated on the bed as I stared at his back turned against me... his breathing steady, like he was asleep.

Feeling heartbroken, I stood up, and with tear-filled eyes, I turned to leave as I walked toward the door.

"Isn’t this what you wanted?" Lennox suddenly spoke from behind me, his voice not sounding like someone who was asleep.

I turned back, the tears finally spilling over. "I was wrong. I lashed out because I didn’t want to be vulnerable, and you’re the only one who makes me feel that way."

"Being vulnerable is a choice," he murmured. "And you chose to be ’Just Olivia.’ You can’t have it both ways. You can’t ask for the freedom of a stranger and then cry when I treat you like one."

I walked back to the bed, dropping to my knees on the floor beside where his head lay. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t lean into it either.

"I don’t want to be a stranger," I sobbed, my forehead resting against the edge of the mattress. "I don’t want this space anymore, Lennox. It’s too big. It’s too cold."

He finally turned over. The moonlight hit his face, and for the first time, I saw the cracks. His eyes weren’t just cold; they were exhausted. There were no more schemes in them, no more plans to "fix" us.

"Then what do you want, Olivia?" he asked, his voice cracking just a fraction. "Because I can’t keep guessing. I’m tired of being the only one fighting a war while you’re waving a white flag."

"I want you to hold me," I whispered. "Not because of a bond. Not because you’re my mate. But because you’re Lennox, and I’m lost."

He stared at me for a long beat, the silence stretching between us. Then, slowly, he lifted the edge of the blanket. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t pull me in. He just opened the space.

I crawled in beside him, shivering as the warmth of his body hit mine. I tucked my head under his chin, my hands clutching his chest as if he might disappear if I let go. He didn’t wrap his arms around me immediately. He just lay there, stiff and silent.

"I’m still mad at you," he whispered into the top of my hair.

"I know," I breathed, closing my eyes.

"And I’m not going to pretend everything is fine tomorrow just because you’re in my bed tonight."

"I know."

Finally, his arm came around me, heavy and protective, pulling me flush against him. It wasn’t the passionate embrace from the pool; it was the way you hold something dear to you.

"Sleep, Olivia," he sighed. "We’ll talk in the morning."

I nodded against his chest, the steady thrum of his heart acting like a lullaby I hadn’t heard in years. For the first time in months, the static in my brain went quiet. There were no expectations, no "rules" of the break, and no walls—just the heavy, protective weight of Lennox’s arm holding me together. I drifted into a sleep so deep it felt like healing.

When the morning light began to filter through the heavy velvet curtains, I reached out instinctively, my hand searching for the warmth of his skin.

My fingers met cold sheets.

My eyes snapped open, and the peaceful bubble from the night before popped instantly. The bed was empty. The pillow beside me still held the indentation of his head, but he was gone.

I sat up, pulling the duvet tightly around my chest, my heart racing. But before I could spiral into a full-blown panic, the heavy oak door clicked open.

I froze—but it wasn’t just Lennox who walked in.

"Very tragic," I whispered, holding back a smile.

"Well," Louis said, picking up a piece of melon with a fork and bringing it to my lips, "it looks like we’ll have to take care of you. Just like the old days."

I bit into the fruit, my eyes locked on his. The tension was still there, but it was shifting into something warmer—something that felt like a bridge being rebuilt. Levi didn’t stay standing either; he sat on my other side, his thigh pressing against mine, while Lennox sat at the foot of the bed, his large frame grounding the entire space.

For the next twenty minutes, the room was filled with the quiet clink of silverware and low conversation. Louis fed me bits of croissant, Levi held the coffee cup to my lips, and Lennox—though he didn’t join in the feeding—watched every movement with a dark, intense focus. It was intimate and domestic, a glimpse of the life we used to have before the secrets and the break had torn us apart.

But as the tray grew empty, the playful energy began to evaporate, replaced by a heavy, necessary gravity.

Lennox reached out and took the tray from my lap, setting it aside on the nightstand. He didn’t move from the bed. He stayed right there, forming a physical circle around me with his brothers. He looked at Louis and Levi, then back at me.

"We need to talk about us."

Lennox didn’t just wait for a response. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a pen. It was classic Lennox—calculated, organized, and ready to dismantle a problem with surgical precision.

He flipped it open to a page already filled with his sharp, disciplined handwriting. My heart hammered against my ribs. He had thought about this day.

"I’ve spent the morning talking with Louis and Levi," Lennox began, his gaze steady as he looked at me. "We’ve identified the issues. We aren’t just going to ’try harder.’ We are going to fix the specific things that are rotting this family, because we are spending the rest of our lives together. I will make sure of it."

He turned the notebook so I could see the list. At the top, in bold letters, was written IMBALANCE.

"We have to talk about the things that cause a rift between brothers sharing one mate," Lennox said, his voice dropping into a low, serious register. "First: jealousy. Not just the kind where we want to keep you to ourselves, but the kind that grows when we feel like we’re losing a competition we didn’t know we were in."