로그인Emily’s POVMy easel sits by the big window now, where the morning sun spills across the canvas and warms the whole room. For so long, painting was how I held things close — secrets, grief, hope I couldn’t speak aloud. But this new collection feels different. It’s not about holding on anymore. It’s about letting things show.I paint the small things — the way Maya’s tiny hands curl around my finger, Alex laughing as he lifts her high above his head, sunlight slanting through the kitchen window onto the wooden table, the oak tree in our backyard at golden hour. They aren’t grand or dramatic. They’re just… ours. And somehow, that makes them feel like the most important stories I’ve ever told.Pierre was the first one to see them. He stood in the middle of my studio, turning slowly from one canvas to the next, and when he looked at me his eyes were bright. “These are your most beautiful work yet, Em. Because you’re not hiding behind them anymore. You’re right there in every stroke.”Word
Alex’s POVThe light comes soft now, filtering through the kitchen window early, before the world has fully woken up. These are the hours I love best — quiet, golden, just the three of us. Maya on a blanket on the floor, kicking her legs and cooing at nothing in particular. Emily at the stove, humming something low and sweet, hair loose, wearing my old hoodie tied at the waist. Me, leaning in the doorway, coffee in hand, watching the life we built unfold right in front of my eyes.It took me a long time to understand: the greatest gift isn’t something grand. It’s ordinary. It’s waking up without fear. It’s knowing exactly where you belong.We’ve fallen into a rhythm, gentle and steady as a heartbeat. I’m up early — practice starts at the arena before the city is fully awake — but I’m back by mid-morning, and I never walk in without pausing just inside the door, breathing in the smell of home — coffee, vanilla, Emily’s paint, that soft sweet scent that’s purely Maya.I find small ways
Emily’s POVSpring arrived soft and sudden — one morning I woke up and the air smelled like jasmine and damp earth, and the trees at the edge of the yard had unfurled bright green leaves, and everywhere I looked, things were blooming. It felt like the whole world was waking up, fresh and new, right along with us.Maya turned three months old that week. She’d changed so much — from that tiny, sleepy bundle we’d brought home to this bright, curious little person, smiling at everything, reaching for faces and fingers and sunlight, cooing like she had so much to say if only we knew the language. She’d started grabbing onto my hair and Alex’s shirt with determined little fists, and she’d light up the second she saw him, kicking her legs and grinning wide like he was the best thing that had ever happened to anyone. And honestly? I couldn’t argue with her.The day of the ceremony was warm and golden, the kind of day that feels like it’s wrapped in sunlight from the moment you open your eyes.
Alex’s POV The official notice came on a quiet Tuesday morning — plain, clear, final. I sat at the kitchen table and read it twice, my hand resting over Emily’s where it lay on the wood beside me. All allegations against Alexander Voss and Emily Sterling are substantiated as true. No charges will be brought. Both names are fully cleared of any wrongdoing. William Sterling faces multiple charges including fraud, coercion, and embezzlement. His assets are being dissolved. His control over the league, the team, and the gallery is terminated effective immediately. I set the paper down slowly. Emily turned her hand over and laced her fingers through mine, squeezing gently. “It’s real,” she said, soft but sure. “It’s all gone, Alex. He can’t touch any of it anymore. He can’t touch us.” I nodded, but my chest felt tight — not with fear, exactly. With something heavier. Something that had nowhere to go now that the threat was gone. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone
Emily’s POV The first days home felt like holding something incredibly precious — and incredibly fragile — in the palms of my hands. Every moment was soft and blurry, stitched together by sleepiness and wonder and the quiet, constant rhythm of Maya. Time didn’t move in hours anymore. It moved in feeds, in naps, in the tiny, perfect stretch of her arms when she woke, in the way she curled into our chests like she’d never been anywhere else. We were tired — so, so tired. Nights melted into days. Morning light would find us still in bed, tangled together, Maya asleep between us, her little face tucked close to mine. But I never felt alone. Not once. Alex was there, every single time — getting up before I could even shift, changing her diaper with a sleepy grin, murmuring to her in that low, gentle voice that made everything feel safe. He was a natural. Truly. I’d watch him from the bed, half-asleep, as he lifted her into his arms — so careful, like she was made of sunlight — and rocke
Alex’s POVThe hours stretched soft and endless after we walked through those hospital doors — warm lights, quiet voices, the steady beep of machines, and Emily, always Emily, right beside me, gripping my hand so tight I thought my bones might ache. I never stepped away. Not to sit, not to drink, not to breathe without her. Every time she breathed hard, I breathed with her. Every time she squeezed my hand, I squeezed back twice as hard. Every time she leaned back exhausted, I wiped her face, kissed her forehead, told her — You’re incredible. You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.She didn’t give up. Not once. Even when it was long, even when it hurt, even when she whispered, “I don’t know if I can,” she held on, and I held her, and together we kept going.And then — the room shifted. The nurse’s voice softened. “She’s coming. One more big push, Emily — you’re almost there.”I leaned in, my forehead pressed to hers, my voice nothing but breath. “You’ve got this, Em. Look at me. I’m rig
Emily’s POVMy laughter died the second I pushed open the café door.There he was, Lucas, my boyfriend of thirteen months with another girl on his lap, kissing her like he was starving.His hands gripped her waist exactly the way they used to grip mine. Her long chestnut hair spilled over his shoul
Emily’s POV Alex was carrying me through the pulsing club lights like I weighed nothing.One strong arm wrapped under my knees, the other supporting my back. My cheek pressed against his bare chest, still warm from where I’d collapsed into him moments ago. The bass vibrated through his body into m
Emily’s POVMy legs felt loose and heavy at the same time as I stumbled back toward the bar. The music pulsed louder in my ears, each beat slamming against my skull. Kara’s warning from moments ago still rang in my head, but I pushed it away. “Another one,” I told the bartender, slapping my hand
Emily’s POVMy body moved on its own, hips swaying harder than I ever had before, arms raised like I could push the pain out through my fingertips. The bass thumped inside my chest, matching the angry beat of my pulse. Sweat clung to my skin. The black dress rode up my thighs with every sharp turn







