The room goes still. I remember those nights with crystal clarity—the way hope felt like glass in my throat, cutting deeper with each passing day.
"Is there more?" Ares asks softly, his voice rough.
I shake my head, trying to swallow past the tightness in my chest. "She was too exhausted after that. Working two jobs, trying to keep us afloat... By the time she'd get home, she'd fall asleep in her chair."
Ares's hands tremble as he closes the diary. When he looks at me, his eyes shine with unshed tears. "Red, I—" He breaks off, emotion choking his words.
I move towards him, drawn by the raw pain in his voice. Without hesitation, I settle onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I know," I whisper against his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know."
His arms circle my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. I breathe in his familiar scent and feel the steady thump of his heart against my chest. The rhythm speaks of life, of presence, of now.
"You're here now," I murmur, running my fingers through the short hairs at his nape. "That's what matters most." The words feel right, healing something broken in both of us. His arms tighten around me, and I melt further into his embrace.
Time seems to pause as we hold each other, the weight of the past lightening with each shared breath. The afternoon sun paints shadows across the studio floor, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails. But here, in this moment, there's only us—two people who lost their way finding their way back to each other.
His fingers trace gentle patterns on my back, and I close my eyes, allowing myself to simply feel. The ghost of my teenage self, that broken-hearted girl watching from windows, begins to fade. In its place grows something stronger, something built on understanding and shared battle scars.
"I should have been there," he whispers against my hair, his voice thick with regret.
I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, cupping his face in my hands. "You're fighting for us now. That's all that matters." My thumb catches a tear at the corner of his eye, brushing it away. The vulnerability in his expression makes my heart ache with a sweetness I'd forgotten existed.
The hours blur together as we work, the city lights creating a soft glow through the windows. Exhaustion gradually overtakes our determination, and we eventually make our way to the bed. Wrapped in his arms, I finally let go of the fear. Just for tonight, we’re safe.
20
Bella
The following morning, I trace the lines of Ares's tattoos with my pencil, watching how the early morning light plays across his skin. The Celtic knots breaking into geometric shapes seem alive in the golden glow filtering through my bedroom window. My hand moves almost on its own, capturing the way the bird cage on his shoulder appears to be shattering, letting freedom take flight.
He's beautiful when he sleeps. The sharp edges of control soften, making him look more like the boy I once knew. The boy who showed up at my door one autumn afternoon with chocolate chip cookies and understanding beyond his years.
I bite my lip, trying to focus on getting the shading right instead of the memory that floods in uninvited. Me, curled up on my grandmother's worn couch, thirteen and drowning in grief on what should have been Mom's birthday. The gentle tap on the window that made me look up to find Ares standing there, grocery bag in hand.
"I brought reinforcements," he'd said, pulling out a package of cookies. Such a simple gesture, but it cracked something in me. He didn't try to fix anything. Just sat beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and let me cry when the dam finally broke. When I could breathe again, he asked about my parents, genuinely wanting to know them through my stories.
Ares shifts in his sleep, and I just want to curl into his warmth and let him make me forget everything going on behind these walls like only he can. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory of his mouth trailing down my neck, his hands... Jesus, Bella, focus.
I grab a fresh sheet of paper, determined to capture his sleeping face. The strong line of his jaw, softened in sleep. Those lips that can curve into the most devastating smirk or whisper the sweetest confessions against my skin. My fingers itch to trace them, but I resist. He needs his rest.
Slipping off the bed, I go into the kitchen.
My stomach growls, and a grin spreads across my face as an idea forms. I open the refrigerator and cabinets and start to create a breakfast that can feed a small army. Forty minutes later, I lift a tray with pancakes with syrup, croissants and eggs Benedict.
I carry it toward the bedroom. "Oh, who wants some bacon? The crispiest bacon in all the land," I sing-song terribly off-key, watching Ares stir. "Coffee for my sleeping beauty, because someone wore himself out last night..."
My heart does that annoying flutter thing when his lips curve into a smile, eyes still closed. God, I'm in trouble. Such delicious, complicated trouble. And I'm going to enjoy it. I'm going to pretend the world outside this room doesn't exist. That we're just Bella and Ares, sharing breakfast in bed and trading kisses that taste like coffee and possibilities.
Ares's eyes flutter open, deep-brown and sleep-soft, scanning the tray before landing on me. "What's all this?"
"Clearly someone needs his strength. Not sure the stallion can keep up his... stamina." I wiggle my eyebrows, channeling my inner game show host.
His eyes darken, a predatory gleam replacing the drowsiness as he sits up. The sheet pools at his waist, and my mouth goes dry watching his muscles flex beneath the tattoos. The scruff along his jaw has grown even thicker overnight, making him look deliciously untamed. It's a good look on him—dangerous, primal, mine.
"What delicacies have you brought me, Red?" His voice is still rough with sleep.
I clear my throat, pushing aside dangerous thoughts. "Allow me to present..." I point to the first plate. "Fresh-baked croissants, straight from the ovens of this fine establishment. Flaky, buttery, and guaranteed to make a Parisian weep with joy."
His lips twitch. "Is that so?"
