LOGINNathaniel sat in the chair beside the bed, his hands clasped in front of him. “You want freedom from your father, you want to prove yourself. But look at you now. You nearly ended your life.”
Madeline stiffened, her eyes widening. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie,” Nathaniel cut in sharply, his voice piercing. “I saw your eyes on that bridge. You thought everything would end if you jumped. That was the biggest act of foolishness you almost committed.”
Madeline fell silent, her lips trembling. She wanted to deny it, but no words came out.
She lowered her head, clutching the blanket tightly in her lap. Nathaniel’s words struck harder than the night wind had on that bridge. She hated that he was right. She had thought about giving in, about letting her body fall into the rushing river, letting all the pain stop at once.
But hearing him say it out loud left her reeling ashamed, angry, and te
Nathaniel nodded. “And tonight I just want to be your husband.”The words warmed Madeline’s chest. She took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I don’t want you to lose yourself to the outside world,” she said honestly. “I want you to come home whole.”Nathaniel looked at their joined hands. “That’s why I need this,” he murmured. “Not to escape but to remember who I really am.”They fell silent again. Outside, the city sounds softened, as if the world itself was giving them space. Drowsiness slowly crept over Madeline, though her thoughts still wandered.“There’s something I’ve never asked you,” she said suddenly.Nathaniel raised an eyebrow slightly. “What is it?”“What are you most afraid of now?”He didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ceiling, then exhaled deeply. “I’m afra
“We don’t need to rush,” he said quietly. “I want you to feel completely safe.”Madeline nodded. “I feel safe now.”They went back inside. The living room lights were dimmed, leaving only a soft, warm glow. Nathaniel placed his phone in a drawer, as if truly shutting the door on the outside world.In the bedroom, the atmosphere felt different, quieter, more intimate. Nathaniel helped Madeline take off her jacket, his movements careful and attentive. There was no wild desire, only intimacy born of trust.Madeline sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Nathaniel standing before her. “I never imagined peace could feel like this,” she said softly.Nathaniel knelt in front of her, looking up at her face. “Because this isn’t just desire,” he said. “It’s a choice. Every day.”He took Madeline’s hand and kissed it with reverence. The gesture warmed her ch
Nathaniel gently rubbed her back. “I’ve spent too long choosing other things. I don’t want to repeat that.”They sat down on the sofa, still close. Madeline rested her head on Nathaniel’s shoulder while he stroked her hair slowly, almost by reflex. The television was on without sound, serving only as a soft background glow.“Are you afraid Sonia will become a problem?” Madeline asked quietly, without looking at him.Nathaniel took a breath. “I’m not afraid of her professionally. But I realize our past isn’t entirely neutral. And I don’t want that to make you feel unsafe.”Madeline lifted her head and looked at him seriously. “I’m not jealous of your past, Nathaniel. I just want you to be honest with me if that pressure ever comes back.”He met her gaze. “I promise. I won’t hide anything from you anymore. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”
Nathaniel gave a faint smile and patted Madeline’s shoulder.“It’s done. It wasn’t easy, but I think we found common ground. Sonia will help with a few things, but the boundaries are clear.”Madeline let out a breath of relief, though she could still feel lingering tension.“I’m glad you stayed firm. But are you okay?”Nathaniel nodded. “I am. I just don’t want us to lose our direction, Madeline. We have to stay focused on ourselves. The past may resurface, but we can’t let it control us.”They walked together to a small café near the office. Nathaniel ordered coffee, while Madeline simply watched him, trying to read his expression. She knew Nathaniel wasn’t the kind of man who easily showed vulnerability. Yet in his eyes in his gaze there was a weight that hadn’t completely faded.“Will tomorrow be calmer?” Madeline asked.
The discussion lasted for several hours. Nathaniel remained calm, patient, and thorough. Every question Sonia raised was answered clearly; every challenge was met with concrete strategy, not emotion. Sonia stayed critical, attentive, and occasionally confrontational, but Nathaniel balanced the tension with a composed, professional demeanor.They covered every aspect of the project: budget, human resources, timelines, potential risks, and mitigation strategies in case of failure. Sonia offered several suggestions that helped Nathaniel refine parts of the plan. Nathaniel welcomed each input, noted it carefully, and adjusted their strategy accordingly.“All right,” Sonia said after several hours. “I’m starting to see your direction, Nathaniel. I can accept some of these decisions. But remember I’ll be monitoring this process closely. Don’t let any gaps slip through.”Nathaniel looked at her seriously, his eyes gentle yet confident. “I understand. And I appreciate your honesty. This time
Nathaniel reached for a pen on the table, opened several documents, and began explaining his new plan in detail step by step. Sonia listened closely, occasionally nodding or asking critical questions. The tension slowly began to ease, replaced by a growing sense of professional focus.Yet Nathaniel remained fully aware. Every word, every decision, every move had to be weighed carefully. Because it wasn’t only his reputation at stake, but also the fragile yet precious relationship between himself and Madeline and between himself and Sonia.Nathaniel stayed calm, patient, and meticulous. Sonia remained critical, attentive, and at times challenging, but Nathaniel managed to balance that tension with a mature, professional approach.Nathaniel looked at the documents in front of him, drawing a long breath before beginning to explain his new plan. Sonia sat across the table, her posture firm, though her eyes revealed a curiosity she c







