Page 75 of Veil of the Past
I nod, standing up slowly, feeling a little unsteady on my feet. He stands up beside me, his hand slipping around my waist, guiding me gently toward the door. I lean into him, feeling his strength, his steadiness, and for a moment, I let myself feel safe.
The ride back to his apartment is quiet, the city blurring past the windows in a rush of color and light. I watch the buildings go by, my mind drifting back to everything that’s happened, to everything Katherine said. I feel a mix of emotions swirling in my chest—grief, pain, anger, but also… something else. Something softer, something like hope. I don’t know what to do with it, don’t know how to hold it, but it’s there, a small, fragile flicker in the darkness.
Romiro reaches over, his hand finding mine on the seat between us, fingers lacing through with quiet reassurance. I glance over at him, his face set, his jaw clenched, like he’s deep in thought. “You okay?” I ask softly, squeezing his hand.
He nods, his eyes flicking over to meet mine for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitates, then sighs, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. “About how much I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost shy. “And how much I want to help you through this. How much I want to see you smile again, really smile.”
I feel my heart squeeze in my chest, a warmth spreading through me that I haven’t felt in days. “I love you too,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m just… I’m trying, Romiro. I’m trying so hard.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I know,” he murmurs. “And that’s all I could ever ask of you.”
We pull up to his apartment building, and he parks the car, helping me out, keeping his arm around me as we walk inside. The elevator ride is short, and soon we’re stepping into his apartment, the familiar space feeling strangely comforting, like a safe harbor in a storm.
“Go on and change,” he says, his hand brushing against my lower back as he guides me toward the bedroom. “I’ll get started on those eggs.”
I nod, heading into the bedroom, the door clicking softly shut behind me. I take a deep breath, looking around the room, trying to find something to focus on, something to anchor me. The bed is unmade, the sheets still rumpled from where I slept earlier. I see a shirt of his tossed over a chair, and I smile faintly, picking it up, feeling the fabric between my fingers.
I change into something more comfortable—a pair of leggings and a loose sweater—and I pull my hair back into a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror. I look tired, shadows under my eyes, my skin pale. But there’s a softness in my eyes that wasn’t there before, a hint of something new. Maybe Katherine was right. Maybe there is a way through this, a way to carry the grief without letting it destroy me.
I step back out into the living room, and the smell of scrambled eggs hits me immediately, warm and familiar. I smile a little wider, moving toward the kitchen where Romiro is standing at the stove, a pan in one hand, a spatula in the other. He glances over his shoulder as I walk in, a grin spreading across his face.
“Just in time,” he says, flipping the eggs with a practiced motion. “Almost ready.”
I lean against the counter, watching him, feeling a sense of calm settle over me, a moment of peace in the midst of all the chaos. “You look like you know what you’re doing,” I tease.
He laughs, a soft, warm sound that fills the space around us. “I told you I’ve been practicing,” he says. “I had to get it right for you.”
I feel my heart swell, a warmth spreading through my chest. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice soft. “For everything.”
He turns, setting the pan down and moving closer to me, his hands finding my waist, pulling me against him. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead. “I’d do anything for you, Red. Anything.”
I close my eyes, leaning into him, feeling his heartbeat against mine, strong and steady. “I know,” I whisper. “And that’s why I love you.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, holding me close for a moment longer before pulling back, his eyes searching mine. “Come on,” he says with a grin. “Let’s eat before these eggs get cold.”
We sit down at the small table, and he serves me a plate of scrambled eggs, just the way I like them—soft, fluffy, with a little bit of cheese and a sprinkle of chives. I take a bite, and the familiar taste fills my mouth, warm and comforting. I smile, feeling a little bit of the weight lift from my shoulders.
“These are perfect,” I say, looking up at him. “You did good.”
He grins, a proud look on his face. “Told you I was practicing,” he teases. “Glad you approve.”
I laugh, a genuine laugh that feels good, feels real. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
He winks at me, taking a bite of his own eggs. “I try to keep you on your toes.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the sound of our forks against the plates, the soft hum of the city outside the window. I feel a sense of calm settle over me, a feeling I haven’t had in days, and I hold onto it, letting it fill me up.
After a while, Romiro sets his fork down, looking at me with a thoughtful expression. “Hey,” he says slowly. “I was thinking… maybe we could go out today. Pick up some new furniture for the apartment.”
I blink, surprised. “Furniture?”
He nods, his eyes brightening. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to get a few more things, make this place feel more like home. And I thought… maybe you’d like to help me pick some stuff out.”
I feel a small smile tug at my lips. “You want my help? Aren’t you afraid I’ll pick something not to your liking?”
