Then he spoke. “I was afraid. I’ve been afraid for a long time, Cecilia.”
His gaze dropped to his hands now, the fingers flexing open and then curling back in. “For the past six years, I have been carrying guilt. When I told you about Helena, that night, I left out how I blame myself for her death. I reckon that if she had not met me, her life would have been so different.”
Cecilia turned to him, gently surprised by the direction of their conversation.
“The day she died, she said things to me,” he continued. “I don’t know why they affect me so much, and why they cling to me till this day, but I can say that they shaped the man I became from then on.”
Cecilia’s eyebrows furrowed. “What did she say to you?”
Valentine smiled faintly. “Bitter, angry, curses,” he answered. “She was so angry that she yelled at me until the light left her eyes. I never lived that down, and I guess I let the guilt convince me that I did not deserve love or happiness because I stole someone else’s.”
He turned to her then, finally meeting her eyes. “But then you came.”
Her throat tightened, but she said nothing. Her eyes, too, stayed on him.
“You frightened me more than anything, Cecilia,” he said with a strained smile. “Because I began to feel again. Because I began tohope. I couldn’t make sense of it. I kept thinking you’d see how damaged I was and leave. So, it was easy not to let you get too close to me. Yet, somehow, you did.”
Cecilia instantly rose to her feet, as though her body needed to move before her mind could catch up. Her heart thundered beneath her ribs, far too loud, far too wild, and the sound of his confession echoed inside her with such force it left her breathless.
“What are you saying, Valentine?” she whispered.
Valentine rose to his feet too, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “I’m saying,” His voice was quiet. “You live in the chaotic corners of my heart where my deepest, darkest thoughts collide, and you bring silence to them.”
Cecilia’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her knees threatened to give, but she clung to the wall, needing its strength because she suddenly had none of her own.
Valentine took a step forward, slow and careful. “I used to hate the chirping of birds at dawn,” he said, a faint breath of a laugh in his voice. “But now they sound like music to my ears. Because they signal a new day, and another chance to see you, speak to you, watch you roll your eyes at me when you cannot think of a retort.”
Cecilia swallowed, unable to look away from him.
“I love you, Cecilia Price,” he said silently, taking another step forward. “I know how to love you, and I would like to spend the rest of my days mastering that skill. This is me saying that I am rising above my fears and giving you my everything. Bare. If you will have me.”
Cecilia broke.
The first tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Then another. Until she was weeping openly, the sobs quiet but wracking, her body trembling with the force of all she had held in for too long.
Valentine’s face drained of color. “No, no, don’t cry,” he said, stricken. “Please, Cecilia, what did I say? Did I say it wrong? Was it too much?” He reached for her, then hesitated, his hands frozen mid-air like he didn’t trust himself to touch her.
She shook her head, covering her mouth, still crying. “Why didn’t you just say this?” she choked out. “Why did you let me suffer, Valentine? Why did you punish me like that?”
“I didn’t know how,” he said quickly, helplessly, moving closer now, his voice catching. “I didn’t know what to do with what I felt. I was terrified, and I’m so sorry. I am, Cecilia, I am so sorry for all of it.”
She sobbed harder, and he finally closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her without hesitation, holding her like something precious. Like something breakable and already half-broken.
“I will spend the rest of my life making up for it,” he whispered against her temple. “Every day. I swear it.”
She sniffled, clutching the front of his shirt, burying her face in his chest. Then, through the tremble of her breath, she whispered. “I love you, too.”
He froze for a single beat and then exhaled. Then, gently, he drew back from the embrace, just enough to see her face. His hands came up to cradle her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of her tears.
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“I love you,” she whispered, steadier this time, as though the words had finally found a home. “I have loved you for a long time now.”
He stilled after her confession, as if the world had fallen silent just to hear it again. Then slowly, he stepped back from their embrace. His eyes searched hers with the reverence of a man witnessing a miracle. One hand cupped her cheek, the other slid to her jaw, his touch so gentle it made her breath catch.
He looked down at her lips, and then he kissed her. Not softly. Not cautiously. But wholly. As if he had no more words, no more time, and no more breath to waste on anything else but her.
Cecilia gasped into him, but her body already knew the rhythm. Her hands gripped his shirt as though anchoring herself to theonly real thing in the world. His arm circled her waist, drawing her flush against him, and without breaking the kiss, he guided her away from the corner. The back of her knees met the edge of the bed, and she sank into it, taking him with her.
