ASTRID

“You scared me,” he said quietly, almost like he hadn’t meant for me to hear it.

I managed a small smile and shifted, nestling my head against his chest. “You told me that already.”

“I’ll tell you again,” he replied, looking at me. “Because I don’t think you understand how close I came to…” He trailed off, shaking his head, like he couldn’t make himself finish.

I watched him for a moment, the way his shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, as if he was holding back far more than he was saying.

“We already said sorry,” I reminded him softly. “We both know we messed up. We forgave each other. We understand each other’s situation now. No need to keep going in circles.”

He pulled me a little closer to his chest, exhaling slowly. “I know. I’m just…” His eyes flicked toward the ceiling before coming back to me. “I don’t ever want us to get to that point again, especially not you being harmed. I won’t let anything like that slip past me again.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smile. “You really scared me.”

We let the silence stretch.

I coughed a little, and he instantly began caressing my back even though it didn’t help. I stared at him, catching the undeniable concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“As you should be,” he said. No teasing, no rejection of the apology. It looked like we were going back to normal… well, except for him being extra protective now. I wondered how he’d be once we went back home.

“You know,” I said, adjusting myself, “you’re lucky I’m stuck in this bed, breathing harder than usual. If I were feeling better, I’d probably still be trying to win the argument.”

Art’s brow furrowed before he let out a small laugh. “And you think I wouldn’t let you?”

I gave him a pointed look.

“Of course I would,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m sorry, love,” I whispered.

“You just told me not to go in circles,” he pointed out, so I bit the inside of my cheek. He met my gaze, his thumb brushing the curve of my cheek in slow, almost hesitant strokes. His eyes softened, but there was an ache in them that made my chest tighten.

“I’m sorry you had to see my past like that,” he murmured, voice low and unsteady.

“You didn’t do anything wrong—” I began, but he cut me off before I could finish.

“Still…” His sigh was heavy, as if it carried years of regret. “If I had known there was a recording—”

This time, I interrupted. “But you didn’t. You were intoxicated. You were in love. You had your past.”

His brows drew together, his hand still resting on my cheek. “But you don’t,” he muttered.

I couldn’t argue with it because it was the truth.

We were complete opposites in that sense. He had a past full of meaning, moments that carried weight. Maybe those moments meant more than what we had now… or maybe they didn’t. I didn’t know, and maybe I never would. But what I did know, what I felt in every corner of my heart, was that I loved him too much to let him go. That I was more than willing to embrace every shadow of his past just to keep him in my life.

It shouldn’t have been complicated. And yet my thoughts and feelings had gotten tangled somewhere along the way, knotted by the heat of my emotions.

“Do you still think our love story is just recycled?” he asked almost hesitantly, like he was scared of my answer.

“No,” I answered immediately, surprising even myself with how certain I sounded. “Not anymore.”

I shifted closer, my cheek pressed against his chest. “I’m sorry… again,” I murmured, my voice muffled against him. “For letting her get into my head. For making you feel like I didn’t love you anymore. For saying no to your proposal.”

As I said it, the truth settled in my chest like something I’d been waiting to understand for so long. Xena was just achapter in his life. One with its own meaning and history, but she wasn’t the story.

She didn’t hold the part of him that I have now. She never laid in a hospital room with him like this. She never experienced this kind of pain and happiness all at once with this same man. Every heated argument, and every enchanted heart fluttering moment were ours alone. She never saw how special he is. She never lived with him the way I did.

Because if she did, she wouldn’t have let him go.

“I just… I let my insecurities take over,” I continued, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “I kept thinking she had something I didn’t. But the truth is… she never had this.”

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him exhale slowly against my hair, as if my words had lifted something from him too.

“What we have right now is something I have never felt before,” he softly said. “I love you enough to sacrifice everything for you… but I also love you too much to ever let you go.”

“Seven years is a long time, but not long enough to come close to what I felt the second I laid eyes on you,” he whispered before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. 

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes glassy with the same unshed tears burning in mine. “When I say I love you most…” He paused, swallowing like the words were tangled in his throat. “…it’s not about winning some game. It’s because no matter how much I love you right now, the next day, I’ll find a way to love you more.”

My breath hitched, and suddenly all the moments I had doubted him, doubted us, felt so small compared to the enormity of what he was giving me now.

“I’m really sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “For running, for doubting, for thinking the worst of us when you’ve only ever given me your best.” My lips curved into a faint smile. “I guess… I forgot that love isn’t about who came first. It’s about who chooses to stay every single day.”

“I love you most?” he said, his tone almost like a question.

“I love you most,” I said without thinking twice.

His chin rested on top of my head, and for a while, we just breathed together, the sound of the hospital monitors fading into the background.

I was starting to drift off, already content with what we’d said, when he broke the silence once more. “They’ve got the culprit in detention. He confessed, said he was paid to start the fire. He also admitted he was the one who delivered the package to your place.”

“And… he’s also the one lurking outside ELLE,” he added. “One of my drivers told me, so I hired bodyguards and disguised them as new drivers just to ensure your safety without scaring you.”

What…?

“That’s why they’re so nosy!” I said, finally realizing.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t message you,” he said about the suspect. But now, thinking back, I remembered the unknown number calling and texting me in the past.

“I should’ve done better. I wanted you to have a normal life, but I should’ve protected you louder so you wouldn’t—”

I cut him off with a peck on the lips. His eyes widened slightly, and I smiled at him. “Thank you for doing everything for me,” I said.

“I could’ve done more,” he murmured, trailing off, so I kissed him again.

“You did everything,” I reminded.

“Actually, no…” he said, pouting his lips.

“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” I said.

“I almost forgot what your lips felt like,” he whispered.

“Is the package still… is it still there?” I asked, my voice almost trembling.

“No,” he said quickly and firmly, as though he needed to rip the answer out before my mind could spiral further. “It’s gone. Ash.”

There was nothing left to use against Xena. The package, as cruel as it was, had once carried enough to ruin her; enough to open new cases. Now, it was just another wound that only I could feel and remember.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Did… is our house…?”

The images came before his answer. The walls that watched me grow up, the roof that protected me, the little corners that had every bit of my childhood memories—now all blurred behind a haze of smoke.

I coughed, the faint sting in my lungs reminding me of the situation. His hand immediately moved to rub my back, slow and soothing. “You should stop talking for now and rest, love,” he whispered.

“Well… is it?” I still asked, stubborn despite the rasp in my voice.

“There are some parts that survived. A few columns, some walls.” His voice dipped lower. “But it’s no longer livable.”

“Oh…” My shoulders sank, the word barely a breath.

The weight of it pressed down until I couldn’t hold it in. 

“Am I homeless now?” I asked quietly, my voice trembling despite how I tried to make it sound like a joke.

Art’s gaze didn’t waver. He brushed a thumb over my cheek again, slow, like he was memorizing my facial features. “Do you want me to transfer the title of my house to your name?” he asked, his voice low but extremely certain. “Just so it’s clear that you’re going to live with me for the rest of your life.”

I blinked at him, caught between disbelief and the sting of tears. “But… I said no to the proposal,” I reminded him, my voice cracking on the last word.

“I know.” He leaned in a little closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “I’m not asking you to marry me right now. I’m telling you I’m not letting you go.”

Something in my chest ached at his words, a mix of guilt, love, and the terrifying relief of knowing how much he meant it. With those words, I knew that he truly forgave me for what I did.

I opened my mouth to answer, but something jolted in my chest, cold and sharp. My fingers twitched. My gaze dropped to my bare hand. The blood drained from my face.

“The ring,” I breathed.

He frowned. “What?”

“The promise ring!” My voice cracked. “I… uh… where is it?” My heartbeat was in my throat now, each beat reminding me of that night. The smoke, the heat, the way my lungs burned. I’d clutched that ring so tightly in my last moments that it had left a mark on my palm. It was the reason I went back inside. 

If I’d lost it…

Before my panic could spiral, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled something small and silver from within.

The promise ring.

It sat in his palm, shining in the light like it had been waiting. He looked at me quietly, no lecture, no teasing, just a gaze that saw right through me. “You thought you lost it?”

My throat almost closed up. “I almost did.”

While still lying down, he reached for my left hand and, with that same care I remembered from the first time, slid the ring back onto my finger. “This is the third time I’m putting this on,” he pointed out gently. “You keep on removing it, makes me wonder sometimes if I should have it replaced.”

“I was just trying out mom’s accessories,” I confessed. “At least I came back for it, didn’t I?” I tried to justify it but he just shook his head.

“This ring could easily be replaced,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I tried so hard to understand why you went back for this, but seeing you right now, how much it meant to you, now I understand how much it means to you.”

The cool metal met my skin, and for a moment, I could almost feel the ghost of that night. The chaos, the smoke, the fear of dying without Art knowing how much I loved him. 

I looked at him, and my voice barely came out. “I almost died holding this.”

His thumb brushed the back of my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “You almost killed me with you almost dying.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, guilt creeping in.

“Please don’t do it again,” he said softly. “I know how important it is, but nothing’s more important than you. Okay?”

“No,” I pouted and stared at him, only to see his eyes pleading. “Okay, fine.”

“Stubborn,” he muttered, rolling his eyes now.

I shook my head, a broken laugh escaping between sobs. “But seriously, I’m sorry… for all the times I didn’t treat you better. For not believing enough in what we have. For almost…” My voice faltered before I could say more.

His hand tightened around mine, his eyes speaking volumes. “I’m sorry too. For hurting you with my past. For being so distant after the proposal, and for making you think that you weren’t the most important person to me.”

We both laid there, eyes wet, breaths uneven, clinging to each other. His thumb brushed away my tears, even as his own slipped free.

“This ring has seen every version of us,” I whispered, showing him the ring.

“Still, I’ll make sure you’ll never have to risk your life for it again,” he said, his voice low and steady. His lips found mine for a moment before he said, “From now on… I’ll protect you even more.”

In the days that followed, his protectiveness became more obvious, and a little over the top. He tried hiring a private nurse for me, and when I refused, he took charge and became my very own. He would walk me from room to room, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back as if steering me away from invisible dangers. 

Whenever I napped on the couch, I’d wake to find a blanket tucked neatly around me and a glass of room-temperature water waiting within arm’s reach. If I so much as coughed, his head would snap toward me, brows knitting in that mix of worry and annoyance at the fact that I was still struggling to breathe.

He started bringing my tea to the table before I could get up in the morning, insisting I stay seated while he reached for things I could easily get. He’d poke his head into the bathroom just to check I hadn’t gotten dizzy in the shower, claiming it was ‘purely precaution,’ though the faint smile tugging at his lips said otherwise. That part was always intentional. I know it because he would undress himself and join me before I could even protest. But never once did he touch me sensually after the fire. He just washed me and kissed me in places that reminded me exactly how much he loved me.

At night, he slept closer, his arm draped firmly around my waist, his steady heartbeat pressing into my back until I melted into his warmth.

I haven’t gone to work for a few weeks, and neither has he, for the most part. He just makes calls every now and then and meets people through online meetings. Right after that, I get all of his attention.

We don’t go out like we used to anymore, he says I’m still not fit to travel with my condition. I feel perfectly fine, just a few rare moments of breathing difficulties, but he treats it like a life-or-death situation.

The farthest we’ve gone was a walk in the park with two bodyguards he insisted were ‘new drivers.’ Our friends and family visited me in Forbes, and even if I was safe with them, he was still there in the corner watching me. He was more overprotective than ever, and I wonder if it was because of the guilt he was still carrying… or if he just loved me that much.

I know it wasn’t just about keeping me safe anymore. It was his way of telling me, over and over, without words, that I was loved, and never, ever alone.

Life had been good since the fire.

But I never knew it could be this good until August 15th.