ANMELDENI cried until the tears stopped feeling like tears and started feeling like something torn straight out of my chest. My sobs came in broken waves, sharp inhales that hurt my ribs, exhalations that sounded ugly and unrestrained. I didn’t try to be quiet. I didn’t try to be strong. For once, I just let myself fall apart in front of Ethan. Ethan’s arms stayed around me, not tightening like he was afraid to lose me, not loosening like he was uncomfortable. He was just… there. Like an anchor. Like someone who understood that sometimes the best thing you can do for a drowning person is not to pull, but to hold the person steady until they find their breath again. “I gave him everything,” I whispered hoarsely, my forehead pressed against his chest. “Everything I had... My patience. My loyalty...My love... My silence... My forgiveness... and it still wasn’t enough.” My hands trembled as they fisted into his shirt. “I drained...myself...for him,” I continued, my voice cracking. “I made
Aria’s POV The drive home was wrapped in silence, the silence pressed against my chest until breathing felt a bit uncomfortable. Ethan didn’t turn on the radio. He didn’t try to fill the space with words like he used to anytime I'm sad, that wouldn’t matter anyway. And I was grateful for that. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city lights blur past, letting the cool night breeze slip through the slightly open window and brush against my face. It was the only thing that felt real, the only thing that felt like it could touch me without demanding something back. Lucien’s words replayed in my head, hollowly. They didn’t shatter me the way I thought they would. They didn’t rip my chest open or knock the air out of my lungs the way betrayal usually does. Instead, they left behind a vast, echoing nothingness. A numbness so deep it scared me more than pain ever could. I felt nothing and that terrified me. It should hurt. God, it should hurt. I expected his desperatio
*Ethan’s POV* I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do, but should I just stand here like a decent man and let another man who's her past, tear into her in front of everyone? Or defend the woman whose trembling fingers are laced through mine like I’m the only thing keeping her upright? Because all I know...all I know for sure is that I cannot stand here and watch someone shout at my woman. Not even her ex-husband who hurt her the most.Aria’s hand is cold in mine, too cold for a room this warm, this crowded, this alive with music and champagne and laughter that suddenly feels cruel. Her nails dig into my skin—not hard enough to hurt, but desperate enough to tell me she’s barely holding herself together. And then his voice cuts through the air. “Aria!” Lucien yelled, he didn’t just call her name. He throws it on her face like a command, like he still owns the right to summon her. Every head turned to see. I felt her flinch before I could even see it. She made a tiny, invol
(Aria’s POV) “We shouldn’t...we shouldn’t do anything here.” My voice came out shaky, breathless, almost betrayed by the way my body leaned toward his instead of pulling away. “It’s our first intimacy, Ethan. It shouldn’t be in a restroom.” I placed my hand on his chest, intending to create distance, but the moment my palm met the solid heat of him, he stilled. His gaze locked onto mine, his gaze dark and unreadable, like he was fighting something inside himself too. “Not here, Ethan,” I repeated, softer this time, like a plea. ”You don't know it's sinful to look this sexy right?" he said on my lips and I smiled. His jaw tightened. He rubbed his lips together slowly, the gesture alone enough to make my knees weak. Then, without a word, he took my hand and guided it downward. I bit my lips torturously as my fingers brushed against the hard line beneath his zipper, and I gulped. He was so hard that it startled me. Heat rushed straight to my belly, pooling between my thig
The kiss started slowly, each movement unhurried. His mouth was warm against mine, his hands cupping my cheeks, his thumbs brushing softly against my skin, stabilizing himself or maybe stabilizing me. My hands tightened into the fabric of his jacket, clinging to him, needing to touch him, desperate for more, and he responded by pressing closer, deepening the kiss like he’d been waiting all night for this exact moment, our lips and tongues glided together, a dance that was both gentle and consuming. I felt my body melt into his, the friction of his chest against mine, the heat of him radiating through me, the way he held me so securely it was almost impossible to think of leaving. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping perfectly around his waist, my heels fell and he placed me gently on the edge of the sink. His hands were calm and controlled, as if he knew the exact moment he could push and the exact moment he had to pull back. His forehead rested against mine for a heartb
After the dance ended, the room felt too loud, too bright, and my chest felt heavy in a way I couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was the stares I’d caught on the way in, maybe it was the weight of everyone watching us, maybe it was Ethan or maybe it was every single piece of that mix, pressing down on me until I felt fragile, exposed, like I could shatter in an instant. And the way some women were admiring Ethan annoys me but I don't even want to admit that I'm jealous.Well, I needed air. I needed to breathe, to escape for a moment from the crowd, from the lights, from the quiet, pressing intensity of him. My hand found his, the warmth of it relieving me. “Ethan,” I whispered, almost too quietly to hear over the lingering music, “please… let’s go to the restroom.” He’d been in the middle of talking to someone, a man with an important-looking watch and a confident laugh, but the second he heard my voice, it was as though the rest of the world disappeared. His attention shifted, fully, enti







