All Chapters of Love's Healing Touch: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

It began with the gentle touch of the wind across the windows of the cottage. Elara was in the kitchen, singing softly as she prepared tea. The air was filled with the scent of rosemary and chamomile, and the smell of rain on the horizon.Adrian entered, his hair still damp from washing, dressed in a simple linen shirt she had mended for him. He looked more himself these days—stronger, more present. The scars remained, as did the memories of his illness, but something within him had softened.“You’re up early,” Elara said, pouring him a cup without needing to ask.“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied with a small smile, accepting the cup. “The sky looks strange today. Like it’s holding its breath.”Elara glanced out the window, noticing the thickening clouds creeping in over the hills. “A storm is coming. It’ll be the first one of the season.”Adrian stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Then we’ll weather it together.”They sat thus f

Her legs wrapped in a loop around themselves on the apartment floor, dim light, city lights stretching out in far shadows behind glass windows. The flash drive that could fit in the palm of her hand was an electric live wire. Sinuous, silent, minute—but holding all her past. The answers she had been searching for all these years. The answer she never anticipated Killian to give her.Her computer rested, lid open on the low coffee table, cursor flashing in sync with the rhythm of her heartbeat.She wasn't ready.But she never would be.She took a breath and slid in the flash drive. The screen flickered to life instantly, folders neatly stacked, titles written in Killian's tidy, precise hand: Bank Transfers. Contracts. Victor. My Father. Yours.Elena opened the last one.The papers came one by one, unwillingly: torn letters, bank records, deeds. And in all of them—a faxed letter, stamped with a date close enough to twelve years earlier. Her father's writing, still so recognizable all th

The subsequent days following the family visit of Adrian were uneventful but full of warmth both Elara and Adrian hadn't known in decades. The little cottage that had once been sanctuary to two isolated souls fleeing mankind now creaked with laughter and mending. But even during the times of tranquility, there was this unspoken between them—this which Adrian still couldn't bring himself to say.It was getting dark when Adrian was lingering at the tree line, his thoughts gnarled as uglily as the thorns that lined the forest floor. Elara sat beside him, hand-feeding two orphan lambs. She spoke softly to them, her voice low and serene. Adrian observed her for an instant before he moved closer."You always know they need," he said softly.Elara lifted her face, a gentle smile playing across her lips. "Animals are simple. They simply need to feel safe, warm, and loved."He sat next to her, following the spine of the lamb with his fingers. "Sounds like humans too."She faced him, sensing the

The air in the Lancaster estate during morning was redolent with the scent of lavender and dewy ivy. Elara sat on the balcony of their room, arms crossed over the warm woolen cloak thrown around her shoulders. The garden below, as she saw it, seemed to lie out like a tapestry—wild still, but not dead. Everything from flowers to leaves seemed to whisper of the change that was budding between her and Adrian.Behind her, the rustling of blankets being readjusted stirred Adrian awake.She turned in time to see him sitting up, running his messy hair back."You always wake up earlier than me," he grumbled.She snuggled in next to him and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear."I like to hear the world wake up."Adrian's lips curled up into a small smile."I like waking up to you."Their morning quiet time was new, but already so integral to the texture of their lives. That peace, so foreign to Adrian last spring, was slowly becoming home.As Adrian got dressed for the day, his attitude shi

The succeeding days were gloomy with a reserved sense of anticipation, the sort that resided in the bottom of Adrian's chest and pulled the strings of his heart every time he was around Elara. It wasn't merely the building tension of what would be—it wasn't merely the yet unborn child that she carried within her womb—something was shifting in the air, a shift of seasons both literal and metaphoric. Adrian was flowering beyond what the virus and his family rejection could ever claim to the contrary. He was flowering. And it was because of Elara.It was that late afternoon time when Adrian had entered the study, where Elara sat at her chair facing the desk, rummaging through papers. The sun from the window painted the room a rose and amber goldish pinkish hue."Adrian," she said to him, her eyes flashing up to his with the smile that left him shivering. She'd never smiled like this at him out of sympathy before, never had her eyes falter while the rest of the world may have judged him.