WH
Wuthering Heights {2026)
The barn doors creaked as Y/n pushed them open, the scent of hay and damp wood filling the cold air. She climbed toward the loft where Heathcliff often disappeared when he wanted to hide from the world—and lately, from her. Since Y/n had returned from staying with the Lintons, something between them had changed. Heathcliff noticed it in the way she spoke, dressed, even looked at him. Their polished world had touched her, and he hated the thought that perhaps Y/n now considered herself above him. “Heathcliff?” Y/n whispered. Nothing. Then voices drifted from below. Y/n lowered herself against the wooden boards and peered through a narrow opening. Joseph and Zillah stood unusually close, sharing a private moment Y/n did not fully understand. She knew only that she probably wasn’t supposed to be watching. Suddenly, a hand covered her mouth. “Shhh.” Heathcliff. He crouched behind Y/n, one arm keeping her still as his other hand covered her eyes, immediately blocking her view. Darkness replaced the scene below. Yet Y/n became far more aware of him instead—his warmth behind her, his breath near her ear, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Heathcliff said nothing. He simply kept Y/n there, shielding her from something she wasn’t meant to witness. And neither of them acknowledged how suddenly the distance between them had disappeared.
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