Free Web NovelChapter 104: Emotional Ella
Jason POV:
I gently laid her down on the couch, making sure she was comfortable before stepping back toward the door. I needed to grab the bags I’d left outside, but as soon as I moved, she murmured something faint, like "Close the door on your way out."
As if.
She really thought I’d just walk away and leave her like this? Yeah, no. She’d have to try a lot harder than that to make me leave. Ella clearly wasn’t okay, and even if she didn’t want to admit it, I wasn’t about to abandon her.
I grabbed the shopping bag from the doorstep, shut the door, and brought it to the table. As I set it down, I glanced at her curled-up form on the couch. She looked so small like that, and it hit me just how tough she always tried to act—like nothing ever got to her. But tonight, the cracks were showing, and damn if it didn’t make me feel something deep in my chest.
I started taking out the stuff I’d bought, holding each item up like I was presenting gifts to royalty. "I got you some chocolate," I said, pulling out the first bar. It wasn’t just one bar—it was a massive slab. And, of course, I’d grabbed a couple of smaller ones too, just in case.
"And your favorite biscuits," I added, holding up the packet.
I swear, for a second, I saw the faintest smile tug at her lips. Progress. She wasn’t kicking me out, at least, so I figured I’d done something right.
But then, out of nowhere, her face crumpled, and she started crying.
Oh, no.
Oh, shit.
What now? What did I do wrong?
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Ella Kingsley—the same girl who could roast you with a single look and was known for her sharp tongue—was crying. It felt like the universe had glitched. I froze, utterly useless for a moment, because what the hell was I supposed to do with a crying Ella?
She cried harder, and the sound of her quiet sobs hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t stand it. I felt...weird. And bad. Really bad. I didn’t even know why she was crying, but I blamed myself anyway because that’s what you do when someone you care about looks like their world is falling apart.
I sat down next to her and hesitated for half a second before gently rubbing her back. "Hey...hey, shh," I murmured, trying to sound soothing, though I was pretty sure I was failing miserably. "It’s okay. You’re okay."
That just made her cry harder. Great.
I kept rubbing her back, staying quiet because it seemed like anything I said just made it worse. After a few minutes, her sobs softened, and I cautiously asked her what she needed.
Through sniffles, she murmured something about wanting her bed.
That surprised me. She was crying because I hadn’t put her to bed? Women were truly impossible to figure out sometimes. But hey, if that’s what she wanted, that’s what she was going to get.
I scooped her up again, ignoring her weak protests, and carried her toward her room. As we reached the door, she mumbled something else: "And chocolate."
That made me chuckle. Emotional Ella was...something else. I glanced down at her teary face and shook my head fondly. "I’ll get you some chocolate as soon as I settle you in bed," I promised.
When I pushed open the door to her room, I had to do a double take. It wasn’t at all what I expected.
Ella’s room was surprisingly...girlish. Not in a pink, frilly kind of way, but in a calm, cozy blue. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue, and the bedding matched. There were little touches of personality here and there—some books on the nightstand, a couple of candles, and a photo frame I didn’t get a good look at.
Honestly, I’d expected something completely different. Given how she dressed—always in black hoodies, black pants, black everything—I figured her room would be all dark and mysterious. But this? It was warm and inviting, like a little sanctuary.
I laid her down gently on the bed and tucked the covers around her. As I adjusted the blankets, something on the bed caught my eye—a heating pad. It looked like one of those electric ones, but it was clearly out of power.
"Is this what you’ve been using?" I asked, holding it up.
She nodded weakly, her face still flushed from crying.
"Where’s the charger?"
She gestured vaguely toward the nightstand, so I rummaged around until I found it. After plugging it in, I made sure the pad was charging before turning back to her.
"I’ll be right back," I told her.
I headed to the living room to grab the chocolate she’d requested. As I walked, I pulled out my phone and did a quick Google search: how to help a woman on her period. Because clearly, I had no clue what I was doing, and I needed all the help I could get.
I skimmed through the results, mentally noting the tips: heating pads, snacks, hydration, patience. Okay, I could do this.
When I returned to her room with the chocolate, I unwrapped a bar and handed it to her. She took it without sitting up, nibbling on a corner while glaring at me like she still wasn’t sure if she wanted me there or not.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectful distance but staying close enough that she’d know I wasn’t going anywhere. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
And honestly? Seeing her like this—vulnerable, human, and not the untouchable force she pretended to be—made me care about her even more.
As I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her nibble on the chocolate, I remembered the advice Google had given me. Apparently, women could get really emotional during their periods. That little nugget of wisdom explained the crying—thank God, because for a moment there, I’d thought I’d broken Ella or something.
So, yeah, hormones. Totally hormones. I could handle that.
Not that it made seeing her cry any easier. If anything, knowing it wasn’t entirely my fault didn’t stop the way my chest felt tight watching her wipe her eyes and sniffle. Seeing Ella Kingsley—the girl who could burn you with one glare—reduced to tears by something as unfair as biology? It was enough to make me want to punch the universe.
I ran a hand through my hair, unsure what else I could do. Google’s advice had been helpful so far: heating pads? Check. Chocolate? Check. Biscuits? Check. Ice cream? Okay, not yet, but that was on standby for later. But the last tip was the tricky one: patience.
Patience wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but for her? I was going to try.
"Anything else you need?" I asked softly.
She shook her head, still nibbling on the chocolate, but her glare had softened a bit. That was progress, right?
"I can leave if you want," I offered, even though the idea of walking out right now made my stomach twist.
Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp as ever, and for a moment, I thought she’d take me up on it. But then she muttered, "Just...shut up and stay there."
It was the most Ella way of asking someone to stay, and honestly? It made me grin like an idiot.
"Got it," I said, leaning back slightly but staying firmly planted on the bed.
As silence settled over the room, I stole a glance at her. The harsh edges she wore like armor were still there, but they were softer tonight—like the exhaustion and pain had chipped away at them. And even though she looked like she was two seconds away from hurling the rest of the chocolate bar at my head, there was something about her like this that made my chest ache.
Maybe it was the way she’d finally let me in, even if it was grudgingly. Or maybe it was the way she made vulnerability look like a battle she was winning, even when she was curled up in pain.
Either way, I was staying right here. Google might have helped me prepare, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this—seeing Ella like this, and realizing I’d do just about anything to make her feel better.
It wasn’t like I planned to stay over. Not really. But as I sat there watching Ella sleep, clutching that chocolate bar like it was her lifeline, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. She looked...peaceful. Vulnerable, even. And let’s be honest, if I left and she woke up in pain with no one to help her, I’d never forgive myself.
Besides, she had told me to stay. That counted, right?
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It was already 2:00 a.m., and the idea of heading back to my place seemed ridiculous. I wasn’t going to get much sleep anyway—not when I was half-expecting her to bolt upright and either scream at me or need something. Might as well make myself comfortable.
I glanced around the room, taking in the small details I’d missed earlier. Her space was...unexpected. The soft blue walls and minimalist decor didn’t scream Ella the way her all-black wardrobe did. It was calm, almost serene—like a sanctuary from the sharp, witty storm she usually carried around.
Careful not to disturb her, I shifted to the other side of the bed. I didn’t slide under the covers—yeah, I wasn’t that stupid—but I did stretch out on top of them, keeping a respectable distance between us. The blanket between us felt like a necessary barrier, as much for my sanity as for hers. The last thing I needed was to give her another reason to murder me tomorrow.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, clutching the chocolate even tighter, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Of course Ella would hoard chocolate like it was a treasure chest.
Lying there, I tried to ignore how natural this felt. How easy it was to just be in her presence, even when she was asleep and not glaring daggers at me. Maybe it was the quiet hum of the room, or the way her breathing steadied into a soft rhythm, but something about this moment made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to admit.
I glanced at my phone, debating whether to set an alarm. But then I remembered the look on her face earlier—the pain, the exhaustion—and decided against it. If she needed more rest, I’d let her have it.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting. I could already hear her scolding me for staying over, her voice sharp and biting. But I also knew I could take it. I’d remind her that she told me to stay, and maybe—just maybe—she’d forgive me.
Until then, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the steady sound of her breathing, hoping that when morning came, she wouldn’t immediately throw me out the door.
