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In Her Arms

Penulis: Krysteewrites
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-09-16 07:11:12

LIAM'S POINT OF VIEW

The room had grown quiet. The kind of quiet that carries its own weight — not heavy, not empty, just… soft. Seirra’s head rested against my chest, her breaths slow and steady, her lashes fanning delicately against her cheeks.

She had dozed off mid-sentence, somewhere between telling me about how her mum had insisted she learn to bake bread at twelve and teasing me for never having folded laundry properly in my life. Now, here she was, the woman who had stormed through every wall I built around myself, curled against me like I was the only place she wanted to be.

And God, I loved her for it.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even dare shift. I just stared at her — at the gentle way her lips parted when she sighed, at how her hair spilled over my arm, at the way her presence filled every corner of my world without even trying.

If someone had told me months ago that this woman — Seirra Morgan —
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  • Billionairess By Survival    Billionairess By Survival

    SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW Two years later. I woke up to the soft patter of tiny feet running across the hallway, followed by a high-pitched giggle that never failed to warm me from the inside out. Before I could even sit up, the door to our bedroom creaked open and a little girl tumbled inside. “Mummy! Mummy!” she squealed, her hair wild and curly, bouncing around her round cheeks. I smiled, my heart bursting as I held out my arms. “Come here, sweetheart.” She dashed to the bed with all the determination her small legs could muster, climbing up with the grace of a clumsy kitten before throwing herself into my embrace. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and inhaled the faint scent of baby powder. Her name was Aria Foster. My daughter. My miracle. Strong. Unique. Precious. She was only one year and nine months old, but she had already changed my entire world. S

  • Billionairess By Survival    Nights in Bora Bora

    SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The week after the wedding was pure chaos—boxes stacked in every corner, Claire rolling her eyes dramatically as she helped me sort out clothes, Becca teasing me about how many dresses I wanted to bring along as if I was moving my entire wardrobe. Liam was calm though, annoyingly calm. While I panicked over swimsuits, sandals, and dresses, he simply folded three shirts, two shorts, and called it a day. “Babe,” he said, watching me dart around the room with hangers in both hands, “we’re going for two weeks, not relocating permanently.” I shot him a glare. “And what if we decide to stay longer? What if I want to look good for every sunrise and every dinner? What if—” “—what if you end up living in your swimsuit like I know you will?” He grinned, tugging me closer by the waist until I dropped all the clothes onto the bed. “You could wear the same thing for two week

  • Billionairess By Survival    Butterflies and Belongings

    SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The sun had barely slipped through the curtains when I stirred awake, the faint warmth brushing over my face like a soft whisper. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Liam—fast asleep beside me, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His hair was a little messy, his arm loosely sprawled across me as if even in sleep, his body refused to let me go. I smiled. The kind of smile that blooms without permission, because the heart can’t help but overflow. I stayed there for a moment, watching him, marveling at how he looked so peaceful. So safe. So mine. I wanted to trace his jawline, kiss his eyelids awake, but he looked so tired from everything—the wedding, the constant business trips, and all the chaos he carried quietly on his shoulders. So instead, I carefully peeled myself away, placing a kiss on his hand before sliding out of bed. As I made my way downsta

  • Billionairess By Survival    In Her Arms

    LIAM'S POINT OF VIEW The room had grown quiet. The kind of quiet that carries its own weight — not heavy, not empty, just… soft. Seirra’s head rested against my chest, her breaths slow and steady, her lashes fanning delicately against her cheeks. She had dozed off mid-sentence, somewhere between telling me about how her mum had insisted she learn to bake bread at twelve and teasing me for never having folded laundry properly in my life. Now, here she was, the woman who had stormed through every wall I built around myself, curled against me like I was the only place she wanted to be. And God, I loved her for it. I didn’t move. I didn’t even dare shift. I just stared at her — at the gentle way her lips parted when she sighed, at how her hair spilled over my arm, at the way her presence filled every corner of my world without even trying. If someone had told me months ago that this woman — Seirra Morgan —

  • Billionairess By Survival    Forever Fosters

    SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The weeks leading up to the wedding were a blur of lace, flowers, and whispered promises. I had spent countless afternoons slipping into gowns, staring at my reflection in long mirrors, trying to see the woman I was becoming. Not just someone’s bride, but a woman who chose peace over chaos, love over noise, and Liam over every shadow of my past. And then the day came. It wasn’t a spectacle. It wasn’t grand or flashy. It was everything I wanted: small, private, and drenched in love. Claire fussed over me as she zipped me into the gown. The silk hugged my figure like it was made for me, and when I glanced in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. My eyes glowed, my lips curved into a smile that wasn’t forced for once—it was genuine, soft, like sunlight breaking through after a long storm. “You look… stunning,” Claire whispered, her eyes glistening. I

  • Billionairess By Survival    Where it all began

    SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The day after Liam proposed still felt like a dream. Every time I caught sight of the ring glinting on my finger, my heart would race and a goofy smile would pull at my lips. I hadn’t even told Becca yet. She deserved to know first—after all, she had been the very reason my life had taken this turn. So, when the doorbell rang that morning and I opened it to see her standing there with her usual bright grin and a bag of croissants in her hand, my heart leapt. “Good morning, sunshine!” Becca chirped, walking in as though she owned the place. “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet.” I laughed, closing the door behind her. “Not yet. But I’m glad you’re here.” We settled on the couch, the croissants between us, coffee steaming on the table. Becca’s eyes, always sharp and curious, scanned my face. “You look… different. Happier. Like something big happene

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