Nobody's Daughter

Aaliyah

The sunlight streaming through the curtains did little to dispel the fog of emotions lingering from the night before. Aaliyah sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing absently against the fabric of the duvet as she replayed the club in her mind—the flash of recognition in the man’s eyes, the way he’d called her Ehsan’s girl. Her stomach twisted at the memory, but it wasn’t fear that lingered. It was Cruz.

The way Cruz had stepped in front of her without hesitation, her body a shield, her voice low and commanding. The way Cruz’s hand had gripped hers as they slipped through the crowd, firm and steady, as if letting go wasn’t an option. Even now, Aaliyah could still feel the warmth of Cruz’s palm against hers, the press of her calluses a reminder of her strength. Cruz had acted like it was second nature—like protecting Aaliyah was as instinctive as breathing.

It wasn’t just gratitude she felt. Aaliyah knew that now. Last night had solidified what she’d been too afraid to admit: Cruz wasn’t just her protector. She was her anchor, the one person who made her feel like she could finally be herself. And that realization had left Aaliyah breathless.

She shook her head, pushing herself off the bed. She couldn’t spend the day wallowing in her thoughts. Cruz would be out there already, no doubt brooding over how to keep her safe while pretending she didn’t care. Aaliyah smiled to herself. She knew better now.

--

Cruz was exactly where Aaliyah expected her to be—by the window, laptop open, coffee in hand, her posture as rigid as ever. Her dark eyes flicked up when Aaliyah entered the room, and for a fleeting moment, something softened in her gaze before she looked back at the screen.

“Morning,” Aaliyah said, padding over to the couch and curling her legs beneath her.

“Morning,” Cruz replied, her voice steady but distant. She didn’t ask how Aaliyah slept, didn’t offer any pleasantries. That wasn’t Cruz’s way. But the faint twitch of her lips, the subtle tilt of her head—it was enough.

Aaliyah grabbed a piece of fruit from the table and bit into it, her eyes fixed on Cruz. “You’re planning something.”

“Thinking,” Cruz corrected, setting her mug down. “Last night was a reminder that you need to be ready for anything.”

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

“You’ve done well with the knife training,” Cruz continued, her tone measured. “But if something happens and you don’t have a weapon, you need to know how to defend yourself.”

Aaliyah couldn’t hide her surprise—or her excitement. “You’re offering to teach me hand-to-hand combat?”

“It’s practical,” Cruz said, leaning back in her chair. “Necessary.”

Aaliyah tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “And here I thought you just liked having an excuse to boss me around.”

Cruz’s lips twitched, a faint smirk threatening to break through her stoic demeanor. “Don’t make me regret this.”

The living room transformed into a makeshift training ground as they pushed the furniture to the walls. Cruz moved with the same deliberate efficiency she always did, her presence commanding the space. Aaliyah felt her pulse quicken—not from nerves, but from the anticipation of being close to Cruz again.

“First rule,” Cruz began, her voice steady, “use your opponent’s momentum against them. You’re smaller, so don’t try to overpower someone. Redirect their energy.”

Aaliyah nodded, watching intently as Cruz demonstrated the move. She moved behind Aaliyah, her hands gently adjusting her arms, and Aaliyah’s breath hitched. Cruz’s touch was firm but careful, her fingers warm against Aaliyah’s skin.

“Like this,” Cruz murmured, guiding Aaliyah through the motion. “If someone grabs you, don’t pull away. Step into their space, twist their arm, and use their weight to throw them off balance.”

The words were clear enough, but Aaliyah struggled to focus. The proximity, the heat of Cruz’s body so close to hers, the faint scent of leather and something distinctly Cruz—it was overwhelming. She forced herself to mimic the motion, her hands clumsy as she tried to replicate what Cruz had shown her.

Cruz caught her wrist easily, her grip steady but not unkind. “Close,” she said, her voice low. “But you’re too hesitant. Don’t hesitate.”

“I’m trying,” Aaliyah muttered, her cheeks flushing. “It’s hard to focus when you’re… hovering.”

Cruz arched an eyebrow, but the corners of her mouth twitched again, as though she was holding back a smile. “Focus.”

The lesson continued, each move bringing them closer. Cruz showed Aaliyah how to escape a chokehold, wrapping her arms lightly around Aaliyah from behind.

“Drop your weight,” Cruz said, her breath warm against Aaliyah’s ear. “Use your elbows to break the hold, then twist free.”

Aaliyah’s heart raced as she followed Cruz’s instructions, her body brushing against Cruz’s as she broke free. When she turned to face her, their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken possibilities.

“Better,” Cruz said, her voice softer now, her gaze holding Aaliyah’s a beat too long.

Aaliyah’s chest tightened, her thoughts spiraling as she searched Cruz’s expression for something—anything—that might hint at what she was feeling. But Cruz’s walls were firmly in place, her face unreadable.

“Again,” Cruz said, stepping back and breaking the spell.

The training session had left Aaliyah breathless, her body aching in ways that felt strangely satisfying. She sipped from the water bottle Cruz handed her, the cool liquid doing little to calm the heat coursing through her—not just from the exercise, but from Cruz. Always Cruz.

Cruz stood across from her, relaxed but still watchful, her dark eyes scanning Aaliyah like a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. The sight of her—the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, the way her muscles shifted under her fitted shirt as she adjusted her stance—left Aaliyah feeling unmoored.

“Not bad,” Cruz said finally, breaking the silence. Her tone was calm, but there was something in her gaze that lingered. “You’re getting there.”

Aaliyah smirked, the corners of her mouth curling into something playful. “High praise coming from you. But admit it—you like throwing me around.”

Cruz’s lips twitched, her expression softening into what might have been the beginning of a smile. “If that’s what you need to believe.”

The words were light, teasing even, but they only added to the electric tension humming between them. Aaliyah’s heart pounded, and for a moment, she felt like she was balancing on a razor’s edge, every nerve alive with possibility.

She wasn’t sure who moved first—maybe it was her, maybe it was Cruz—but suddenly, the space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. Aaliyah stepped closer, her breath catching as she met Cruz’s dark, inscrutable gaze.

“Cruz,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Cruz tilted her head, her expression guarded but curious. “What?”

Aaliyah didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, she leaned in, her hand brushing lightly against Cruz’s arm as her lips found hers. The kiss was tentative, almost shy, but it held a question, a vulnerability that made Aaliyah’s chest ache.

Cruz froze. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and Aaliyah’s stomach twisted with doubt. She started to pull back, the apology already forming on her lips, but then Cruz’s hand caught her wrist, holding her in place.

“Aaliyah—” Cruz began, her voice low and rough, but Aaliyah didn’t let her finish. She kissed her again, this time with more certainty, her lips pressing against Cruz’s like a plea, like a question she didn’t know how to ask.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

And then Cruz kissed her back.

It wasn’t tentative or hesitant. It was deep, consuming, the kind of kiss that stole the air from Aaliyah’s lungs and made her knees weak. Cruz’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and Aaliyah’s fingers tangled in Cruz’s shirt, holding on like she was afraid to let go.

Cruz’s lips were warm and firm, her movements deliberate but not rushed. It was everything Aaliyah hadn’t known she was craving, a spark igniting into something unstoppable. She could feel Cruz’s restraint slipping, the careful walls she always kept in place beginning to crack.

When they finally broke apart, Aaliyah was breathless, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. Cruz stared at her, her expression unreadable, her dark eyes searching Aaliyah’s face as if trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“I—” Cruz started, but Aaliyah pressed her fingers to Cruz’s lips, a soft smile tugging at her own.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Just… don’t.”

Cruz hesitated, but she nodded, her hands still resting lightly on Aaliyah’s hips. The tension between them hadn’t eased—it had only deepened, a promise lingering in the space they shared.

Aaliyah could still feel the ghost of Cruz’s lips against hers, the heat of the moment leaving her pulse racing. Her hands stayed where they were, clutching the fabric of Cruz’s shirt as though letting go might break whatever fragile thing had just formed between them.

Cruz’s hands were steady on her waist, grounding but hesitant, like she wasn’t sure whether to pull Aaliyah closer or push her away. Her dark eyes flicked down to Aaliyah’s lips, then back up, and the tension between them crackled like static in the air.

“What does this mean?” Aaliyah finally asked, her voice soft but trembling with the weight of the question.

Cruz exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in her words struck Aaliyah more than any well-rehearsed answer ever could. Cruz wasn’t the type to say something she didn’t mean, and hearing her admit her uncertainty only made Aaliyah’s chest ache more.

“I’m not sorry,” Aaliyah whispered, her fingers loosening slightly but not letting go. “For kissing you. I’m not.”

Cruz’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she just stared at Aaliyah, her expression a mixture of conflict and something softer, something almost tender. It was a look Aaliyah had rarely seen, and it made her breath catch.

“Cruz,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Do you regret it?”

Cruz’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, Aaliyah thought she might say yes. But then, slowly, Cruz shook her head. “No.”

The word was quiet, almost reluctant, but it was there. And it was enough.

Relief washed over Aaliyah, and before she could think better of it, she leaned in again. This kiss was softer, slower, the kind that spoke of unspoken promises and the tentative beginnings of something neither of them fully understood. Cruz didn’t hesitate this time. Her hands tightened slightly on Aaliyah’s waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss.

Aaliyah’s heart soared, her fingers sliding up to rest against Cruz’s jaw. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, to lose herself in the warmth of Cruz’s touch and the safety of her presence. But eventually, they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they both caught their breath.

“This isn’t… simple,” Cruz murmured, her voice low and rough.

Aaliyah smiled softly, her fingers brushing against Cruz’s cheek. “Nothing about us is.”

Cruz huffed a quiet laugh, but the tension in her shoulders remained. “We’re being hunted, Aaliyah. Your father, your fiancé—they’re not going to stop looking for you. This… whatever this is—it’s not safe.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Aaliyah said, her voice firm but not unkind. “I’ve been running my whole life, Cruz. From my father, from his expectations, from what everyone else wanted me to be. But with you…” She trailed off, her voice faltering. “With you, I feel like I can stop running. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Cruz’s gaze softened, her walls cracking just enough for Aaliyah to see the vulnerability beneath. “You deserve more than just a moment.”

“So do you,” Aaliyah replied, her fingers brushing against Cruz’s jaw again. “But we can figure this out together. One moment at a time.”

Cruz didn’t respond immediately, but her grip on Aaliyah’s waist tightened ever so slightly, as though anchoring herself. Finally, she nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “One moment at a time.”

Aaliyah smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Cruz’s mouth. 

Cruz

The sound of soft footsteps pulled Cruz from her thoughts. She glanced toward the living room just as Aaliyah entered, her presence a sharp contrast to the stillness Cruz had been wrapped in. Aaliyah looked radiant, even in the casual light of morning, her green eyes bright and curious as she took in the room.

Cruz’s gaze flicked back to her laptop, but the screen held no answers to the questions running through her head. She nodded in acknowledgment as Aaliyah greeted her, keeping her tone even. “Morning.”

Aaliyah curled onto the couch, her movements graceful and unguarded in a way that Cruz found both captivating and maddening. Cruz sipped her coffee, focusing on the warmth of the mug instead of the way Aaliyah’s presence seemed to fill the room.

“You’re planning something,” Aaliyah said, her voice light but teasing.

Cruz arched an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Thinking,” she corrected. Her tone was clipped, but her mind was already shifting gears. “Last night was a reminder that you need to be ready for anything.”

She could see the curiosity flash in Aaliyah’s expression, the way her posture straightened slightly. “Oh?”

“You’ve done well with the knife training,” Cruz continued, leaning back against the chair. Her words were measured, deliberate. “But if something happens and you don’t have a weapon, you need to know how to defend yourself.”

Cruz braced herself for resistance, but Aaliyah’s face lit up with an enthusiasm that caught her off guard. “You’re offering to teach me hand-to-hand combat?”

“It’s practical,” Cruz said, crossing her arms as though to shield herself from the warmth of Aaliyah’s smile. “Necessary.”

Aaliyah tilted her head, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “And here I thought you just liked having an excuse to boss me around.”

Cruz’s lips twitched despite herself, a faint smirk breaking through her carefully constructed exterior. “Don’t make me regret this.”

As they cleared the living room, Cruz felt the familiar focus settle over her. She moved furniture with practiced efficiency, creating space for the training session. But beneath the surface, a current of unease simmered. Being this close to Aaliyah, guiding her through something so physical—it was risky. Not because she doubted Aaliyah’s capabilities, but because she doubted her own ability to stay detached.

“First rule,” Cruz began, her tone steady. “Use your opponent’s momentum against them. You’re smaller, so don’t try to overpower someone. Redirect their energy.”

Aaliyah nodded, her green eyes locked on Cruz with an intensity that made her stomach twist. Cruz stepped closer, her hands lightly adjusting Aaliyah’s arms as she demonstrated the motion. The touch was fleeting, professional, but it sent a jolt through Cruz all the same. She forced herself to focus, to bury the warmth that spread from the contact.

“Like this,” Cruz murmured, moving behind Aaliyah. She guided her through the motion, her breath steady even as her heart raced. “If someone grabs you, don’t pull away. Step into their space, twist their arm, and use their weight to throw them off balance.”

Cruz’s words were precise, but her thoughts were anything but. The closeness was disarming, the faint scent of Aaliyah’s perfume weaving its way into her senses. She pushed the thought aside, stepping back to give Aaliyah space to try the move herself.

When Aaliyah hesitated, Cruz caught her wrist, her grip firm but gentle. “Close,” she said, her voice low. “But you’re too hesitant. Don’t hesitate.”

Aaliyah flushed, her cheeks turning pink as she muttered, “It’s hard to focus when you’re… hovering.”

Cruz raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Focus.”

The lesson continued, each move bringing them closer. Cruz demonstrated how to escape a chokehold, wrapping her arms lightly around Aaliyah from behind. The move was practical, but the contact was anything but. Cruz could feel the warmth of Aaliyah’s back against her chest, her pulse quickening as she gave instructions.

“Drop your weight,” Cruz said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind. “Use your elbows to break the hold, then twist free.”

When Aaliyah turned to face her, their eyes met, and the air between them felt impossibly heavy. Cruz’s chest tightened, her hands lingering on Aaliyah’s shoulders longer than they should have. She stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment before it could spiral out of control.

“Again,” she said, her tone clipped, but her hands were trembling as she moved away.

When the lesson ended, Cruz handed Aaliyah a water bottle, her movements brisk and purposeful. She needed distance, needed time to rebuild the walls that Aaliyah had somehow started to chip away at.

“Not bad,” Cruz said, her tone calm but her gaze lingering on Aaliyah. “You’re getting there.”

Aaliyah smirked, her confidence unshaken. “High praise coming from you. But admit it—you like throwing me around.”

Cruz let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “If that’s what you need to believe.”

And then Aaliyah stepped closer.

“Cruz,” she said softly, her voice pulling Cruz’s focus like a magnet.

“What?” Cruz asked, her tone sharper than she intended. But before she could say more, Aaliyah leaned in, her lips brushing against Cruz’s.

The kiss was tentative, hesitant, and it shattered something inside Cruz. She froze, her mind warring with itself—push her away, pull her closer, don’t feel this. But when Aaliyah started to retreat, Cruz’s hand moved on its own, catching her wrist.

“Aaliyah—” Cruz began, her voice rough, but Aaliyah kissed her again, her lips firmer, surer. And this time, Cruz let herself fall.

Her hands found Aaliyah’s waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. It was overwhelming, consuming, and Cruz felt like she was drowning in it. But for the first time in years, she didn’t want to come up for air.

When they broke apart, Cruz’s breath was uneven, her chest tight. She stared at Aaliyah, her mind racing with questions she didn’t have answers for.

“What does this mean?” Aaliyah asked, her voice trembling but steady.

“I don’t know,” Cruz admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aaliyah’s expression softened, and Cruz’s chest ached at the sight of her vulnerability. “I’m not sorry,” Aaliyah said. “For kissing you. I’m not.”

Cruz’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak.

Aaliyah’s face fell a fraction as she asked “Cruz, do you regret it?”

Her mind was racing, trying to sort through her thoughts, but she shook her head, and whispered, “No.”

When Aaliyah kissed her again, Cruz let herself sink into it, her hands tightening on Aaliyah’s waist. This wasn’t something she could plan for, wasn’t something she could control. But for now, she didn’t want to.

“This isn’t simple,” Cruz murmured when they finally pulled apart. “We’re being hunted. Your father, your fiancé—they’re not going to stop.”

“Nothing about us is,” Aaliyah replied. “But with you… I feel like I can stop running. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Cruz’s walls wavered, her resolve cracking. “You deserve more than just a moment.”

“So do you,” Aaliyah said. “But we can figure this out together. One moment at a time.”

Cruz hesitated, but finally, she nodded. “One moment at a time.”

Cruz’s walls fell one by one as Aaliyah pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth.