New World with Four Husbands-Chapter 590: A familiar’s comfort

Coco had been lying on that couch for almost an hour now, refusing to move.

The sky outside shifted to the bruised purple of early night, the lobby around her is quieter now as evening rolled in.

Neo and Lukas had tried to convince her to head back— even offered to escort her home, but she was like stone, not even shifting on the uncomfortable couch or fidgeting to the cold breeze that would brush through the window.

None of that could move her.

She just stared at the ceiling, lost in thoughts that she was determined to drown in.

Coco’s mind had gone comfortably numb at this point, the weight of her thoughts replaced by an almost blissful blankness.

The hours had blurred together into a soft hum of the guild’s silence, but as the minutes slipped slowly onward.. A gentle touch broke through, tugging her from that fog.

A warm hand brushed aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her face, the motion was so light, so brief, it could have been a breeze.

Only.. No wind came through the window now.

Coco’s breath hitched softly, and a hum followed from the person who had settled themselves beside her.

"Master.." A familiar voice murmured quietly, his deep voice reaching her even through the thick fog of her silence.

It was Sinclair, perched beside one arm of the couch— her familiar and one of her companions.

He could sense her emotions, her pain, as keenly as if they were his own, and when he touched her, a wave of comfort lapped against her mind with the words because it was as if he was reading her as clearly as she was drowning.

"You don’t have to shoulder this pain all alone.." He hummed, his voice gentle.

The quiet words were a comfort and rebuke all at once, and it was enough to make Coco shift slightly, breaking her silence for the first time in an hour.

Her voice, soft as a breath, drifted toward Sinclair. "Sin? What are you doing here?"

Her familiar didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently pressed her back against the couch, pushing her down again when she tried to rise.

She knew it was a formality; she wasn’t leaving, and he knew it.

"Guarding you." He said simply.

Coco blinked slowly, the tension in her body softening as she let Sinclair guide her back into the curl— fetal, protective, familiar.

"Thank you.." She whispered, voice barely there. "Just.. Give me a few more minutes."

Sinclair didn’t answer with words. He simply settled beside her, warm and solid— a quiet presence of humming low in his throat again, like a lullaby only she could hear.

Sinclair adjusted, settling on the floor with his back against the couch’s armrest, head resting against the edge.

The position allowed him to look at Coco, though from an angle, whenever he tilted his head.

He didn’t say anything and just let the silence settle around them, a comforting weight between the soft sound of his low hum. Waiting.

Coco listened to the steady rhythm of Sinclair’s hum, the soothing sound wrapping around her like a blanket. Sure, the weight of her pain didn’t vanish, but in the quiet it was.. Easier to bear. Easier to breathe under.

And that realization, that this quiet understanding could soothe the ache just a little, made her want to cry.

Not because she was weak. Not because she couldn’t handle it, but because someone else had shouldered part of it without even trying and though she didn’t like it, she still felt comforted.

Coco’s shoulders trembled as the first sound broke through her control— a soft, shuddering sniffle.

It was so rare for her to express emotions so plainly; even with the people she trusted most, she held that part of herself back.

Her husbands, her mother, her sisters.. They knew parts of her— but not all.

Not this part, not this rawness.

Coco burrowed deeper into the couch, hiding her face in her palms, trying in vain to smother that soft, heart-breaking sound.

Sinclair’s usual smiling face trembled, the corners of his lips quivering ever so slightly.

The pain in the air had softened, the weight lessening and he felt something new— a strange, profound kind of relief followed by an intense sense of pride.

He had helped his master, and that realization sent warmth flooding through him.

The last few hunters began filing out of the guild, weary from long patrols, hunts, and are now eager for sleep.

Laughter and chatter echoed through the halls, until they rounded the corner into the lobby.

And then they saw her.

Coco— curled into the couch, back facing them like a silent warning, like a storm held at bay

Instantly, voices dropped to whispers, boots that had been heavy on the floorboards now tiptoed forward with unnatural care, even their boisterous laughter was swallowed mid-breath.

One rookie nearly knocked over a vase in his rush to be quiet, but another yanked him back with wide eyes.

The remaining hunters began filing out of the guild hall, weary from their own long days, boots thudding softly against the wooden floor.

No one said a word. No jokes. No glances. Just careful steps, held breaths.. And wide-eyed respect, or fear in their eyes as they slipped past like shadows avoiding light.

Most of them moved with exaggerated care, each step soft and silent as they passed, their concern evident, some hunters paused, eyes flickering, wondering what could have shaken the strongest hunter.

They had never seen Coco like this— fragile in a way she curled before them.

One stepped forward to check if she’s well, or if she’s feeling too sick to get home, but then, they saw him.

Sinclair sat motionless on the floor, right beside the couch, back against it, head resting on his arm, but his eyes opened. Sharp. Piercing. A single glance swept over them like a blade drawn in silence.

That stare said everything without another word.