All Chapters of A Kiss For Every Bruise : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

AdrianThe following weekend, Kayla requested another visit to the amusement park, and we definitely could not say no. Miguel said that it was huge progress and that made me happy.By the time we left the amusement park, I realized something had shifted. Not loudly. Not all at once. There was no dramatic moment where the sky cracked open and declared my daughter healed. It was quieter than that. Subtler. More dangerous to ignore.Kayla walked ahead of us. Not running, she still liked knowing where we were, but she did not look back every few steps anymore. Her small backpack bounced against her shoulders, the straps uneven because she refused to let Miguel fix them. She’d said, “It’s fine like this.” And Miguel, wisely, had let it be.I noticed I was not cataloguing exits anymore. That alone should have frightened me. Miguel was talking beside me, something about how the teacup ride had definitely violated at least three internation

AdrianThe search began at 02:17 a.m. I know the exact time because I checked it twice, the way I always did when I was about to do something that would cost me sleep, control, or certainty.Kayla was asleep down the hall. Miguel’s door was closed. The house hummed softly around me, secure, yet predictable. I was the only variable left awake.My laptop screen glowed against the darkness of the study. No gloves this time. I folded my hands together deliberately, grounding myself in the sensation of skin on skin.I typed slowly. Early childhood school. Delete. Too vague. Trauma-informed preschool near.... I paused before entering the city name. Location mattered. Commute time. Exposure radius. Emergency access.I refined the search.The results flooded in instantly. Bright websites. Smiling children. Carefully curated promises of safety and enrichment. I did not click right away. Instead, I opened a document beside t

Miguel's POVI had learned, over the years, to measure Adrian’s progress by what he did not say. He did not announce victories. He did not celebrate milestones. He absorbed change quietly, suspicious of relief, as if joy were something that might turn on him if acknowledged too loudly. So I watched instead. I observed the spaces between his habits, the fractures in his compulsions, the places where fear loosened its grip just enough to let something human breathe.Today has been significant. He had not worn gloves. Not in the car. Not in the lobby. Not even when Kayla’s hand slid into his, small and trusting, skin warm against his palm.I clocked the exact moment his shoulders tensed, old reflex, automatic, born from years of survival. I had also clocked the moment they eased. That second part mattered more.St. Aurelia had been his choice, though he would never phrase it that way. He definitely had framed it as logis

Gwen The message came just after dawn, when the villa was still pretending to sleep. I had been awake for hours. I lay beneath silk sheets that felt more like restraints than comfort, staring at the faint line of light creeping along the ceiling while the ocean breathed steadily beyond the balcony doors. The house held its breath with it, quiet, alert, always listening. Camilla liked mornings. She said they were for renewal. For gratitude. I had learned they were for surveillance. My phone vibrated once on the nightstand. I did not reach for it immediately. In this house, every sound felt borrowed. Every object felt observed. My room. My time. My so-called healing. All curated. All managed. All quietly dictated by a woman who smiled like salvation and hid rot beneath perfume and benevolence. Then I saw the name on the screen. Adrian. My chest tightened sharply, like a muscle pulled too fast. There was no text at first. Just a single video attachment. My fingers hovered above

AdrianI told myself I was only there to observe. That was the agreement, half day, limited interaction, no pressure. Kayla’s first real immersion into a structured world again, and my role was meant to be peripheral. A shadow at the edge of the room. A contingency plan disguised as a father.St. Aurelia International Academy did nothing to soothe that instinct.The campus was immaculate in the way institutions designed to shape future power always were. Pale stone buildings softened by ivy, wide windows meant to signal transparency, manicured lawns that looked untouched by chaos. Flags from half a dozen countries lined the entrance. Multilingual welcome signs. Quiet confidence. Elite. International. Controlled.Miguel had called it “an environment worthy of her mind,” which was his careful way of saying that anything less would suffocate Kayla. I hadn’t disagreed. I had simply delayed. Delay was my specialty.I stood at the back of the observation gallery overlooking the lower primar