I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 453 Clingy Alina

She blinked at him slowly, as if processing the question required deep thought. Then she nodded once. Too firmly.

"Yes," she said, then immediately shook her head. "No."

He sighed quietly, already unbuckling his seatbelt again. "Lina..."

She leaned closer, gripping the edge of the seat for balance, her voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. "You were going to leave me lying down like luggage."

"I was making you comfortable," he corrected calmly.

"I am comfortable when I can see you," she replied seriously, poking his chest with one finger. "Otherwise, what if you disappear?"

"I’m driving," he said. "Not vanishing into shadows."

She frowned, deeply displeased by this logic. "You can disappear. That’s suspicious."

He huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. "Sit back before you fall."

Instead, she reached for his sleeve, holding it like an anchor. "Promise you won’t go anywhere," she said, suddenly softer, the drunk bravado melting into something fragile and honest.

His expression changed instantly.

"I’m right here," he said quietly. He covered her hand with his own, warm and steady. "I’m not going anywhere."

She studied his face for a long moment, as if committing it to memory. Then she nodded again, apparently satisfied. "Okay," she murmured. "Then you can drive."

She leaned back at last, settling into the reclined seat, her eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening again. "But if we crash," she added sleepily, "I will haunt you."

A corner of his mouth lifted despite himself. "Noted."

He finally started the engine, the soft hum filling the car, and as he pulled away from the curb, he glanced at her once more. She was already half asleep, fingers still loosely curled around his sleeve, as if even unconscious she refused to let him out of reach.

When they reached home, the night had already settled deep and quiet around the house, the kind of silence that felt soft rather than lonely. The door was unlocked for them. Inside, every light was dimmed. Everyone was already asleep.

He shut the door carefully behind them, barely letting it click, and then turned his full attention to her.

Alina had gone completely limp in his arms now, her head resting against his shoulder, her breath warm and even against his neck. One of her hands was still curled weakly into his suit jacket, as if some part of her refused to let go even in sleep. He adjusted his hold instinctively, one arm firm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Her hair brushed against his jaw with every step, and the faint scent of her followed him, warm and familiar, wrapping around his thoughts.

When he reached the bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot.

Moonlight spilled through the window, silver and quiet, illuminating the room just enough to see her face. In sleep, her expressions softened completely. The dramatic pouts, the drunk accusations, the fierce little jealous glares, all of it was gone. She looked peaceful, almost fragile, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her lips parted slightly as she breathed.

He paused for a moment, just standing there.

Then, gently, he lowered her onto the bed. He eased her down as if she might break, arranging her carefully against the pillows, making sure her head was supported, her dress smoothed so it would not twist uncomfortably. She stirred faintly at the change, a small sound leaving her throat, and his hand froze midair. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"It’s okay," he murmured without realizing he was speaking. "You’re home."

She relaxed again, sinking into the mattress, her breathing evening out once more.

He pulled the blanket over her slowly, tucking it around her shoulders. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. Even asleep, she frowned a little, then shifted closer to the warmth left behind by his presence, as if searching for it.

His chest tightened at the sight.

Straightening, he stepped back, intending to leave quietly, to give her space to rest. But just as he turned, her hand moved, reaching blindly until it caught the edge of his sleeve.

He stopped.

Her grip was not strong. It was not even conscious. But it was enough.

He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing, and instead of leaving, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he freed his sleeve but let his hand remain near hers, close enough that she could find it again if she needed to.

She is going to be trouble, he thought, not with frustration, but with something dangerously close to fondness.

He noticed it the moment her breathing shifted, the faint crease between her brows, the way she twisted slightly as if the fabric clung too tightly. The dress, beautiful as it was, was not meant for sleep. The faint trace of makeup around her eyes, though light, would only make her uncomfortable by morning. He sighed quietly, more at himself than anything else, and pressed his lips together in a brief line of resolve.

Careful not to wake her, he rose and crossed the room, moving on instinct alone. Her wardrobe door opened with a soft whisper. He paused, scanning the neatly arranged clothes until he found what he was looking for, a simple, comfortable nightdress, soft fabric folded with familiar care. He lifted it gently, as if even the cloth itself deserved respect.

He did not know how to remove makeup, so he found a clean napkin, ran it under water until it was just damp, and returned to the bedside. Kneeling slightly, he brushed the napkin over her skin with a touch so light it barely disturbed her. The makeup came away easily. She had worn very little, just enough to glow. Without it, her face looked even softer, bare and natural, her lashes resting peacefully against her cheeks.

For a moment, he simply looked at her.

Then, low and firm, he spoke without turning his head. "You have to change her clothes," he murmured. "Don’t be naughty."

The shadows appeared anyway, as if summoned by the quiet authority in his voice, swirling with barely contained excitement. He shot them a warning look, handed over the nightdress, and deliberately turned his back, folding his arms as if that alone could reinforce the boundary.

Behind him came the faint rustle of fabric, the whisper of movement.

He closed his eyes.

Don’t look. Don’t think.

He focused on his breathing, steady and controlled, even as a strange, dizzy warmth crept through his chest. The shadows, mischievous by nature, carried sensations back to him, softness, warmth, the gentle weight of her presence. His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened despite himself.