And now she carried ten years of grief.
Ten years of blood and ghosts and memories sharp enough to wake sleeping wounds; carrying grief without setting it down because stopping meant vulnerability and vulnerability meant Phei stood
unguarded
from the world in the house of vultures who wanted nothing but his doom that they’d happily celebrate.
Melissa did not need pressure to confront her grief but all she needed was an
anchor.
In all those years Melissa had been convincing herself endurance and healing were the same thing.
So, she held herself together.
Until now.
And standing there inside her quiet penthouse while moonlight rested across bookshelves, orchids and warm navy walls, Phei simply held her tighter because sometimes love looked dramatic and expensive and impossible.
To let her KNOW she did not have to be
invincible
.
And sometimes love simply looked like refusing to let somebody tremble alone.
Phei knew Melissa had chosen him over herself so many times that somewhere along the long ugly road of that endurance between
surviving
and
living,
sacrifice had stopped arriving to her dressed like
heroism
or love for him and quietly changed clothes into
routine
.
That was perhaps the cruelest thing love did when stretched across enough years.
Not heartbreak.
...Not longing...
...Routine.
’Because eventually the extraordinary stops feeling extraordinary.’
The things you gave away stopped feeling expensive and you no longer counted the
pieces of yourself
you traded away because giving pieces away had become part of the architecture holding your days together, like support beams hidden behind walls:
unseen until everything
collapsed.
Melissa had done that.
Again and again and again.
Every time old grief dragged muddy footprints through rooms she had spent years cleaning. Every time memories arrived carrying blood on their shoes and ghosts under their fingernails. Every time healing politely knocked at the door asking for attention and Melissa looked through the peephole and decided she was busy.
Later.
I will survive this later.
Because Phei needed
protecting.
Because Phei needed
watching.
Because somewhere across ten years, his existence had quietly climbed higher on her priority list than her own ability to breathe without hurting.
Ten years of that kind of love changed people in strange ways.
It
blurred
devotion
and
self-destruction
until they shared walls. It turned sacrifice into instinct while at once it taught people how to smile while bleeding and call it efficiency.
’And the worst part?
’...People praised you for it.’
Humans were funny creatures like that. Work yourself into collapse for someone you love and suddenly everybody calls you
admirable
instead of deeply concerning.
’Now it is my turn, Mel.’
Not with questions and interrogation on things she was not ready to confront yet.
Certainly not with that uniquely irritating human tradition where somebody cried once and suddenly everyone within a five-kilometer radius transformed into emotionally unlicensed investigators demanding explanations while holding cups of tea.
No.
Melissa needed something simpler tonight.
’Warmth.’
His arms around her shoulders.
Fingers moving slowly through dark hair with enough patience that time itself seemed to slow down around them.
The steady percussion of his heartbeat beneath her cheek where she rested against him so completely that Phei sometimes wondered whether she was trying to move permanently into his ribcage.
Honestly, if Melissa could physically
crawl
into his chest and establish residency there, she probably would.
’Property prices on Hell’s Paradise are criminal anyway.’
And the language she would actually accept:
I am here.
I am not leaving.
You can stop carrying the
sky
for one night.
You can be ugly with grief.
You can collapse.
So he held her.
Outside the towering glass walls of the penthouse, Hell’s Paradise Island glittered beneath midnight with the quiet arrogance only obscene wealth could maintain. Gold lights stretched through roads below like molten rivers while towers pierced upward shamelessly enough that mountains themselves might reasonably develop inferiority complexes.
Beyond the city rested the forests, ancient and endless beneath the night sky, dark enough to remind civilization that money rented dominance but nature still owned the land.
Inside the penthouse, warm amber lighting softened navy walls and bookshelves while moonlight slipped through glass in
silver
paleness, touching white orchids near the windows until the petals almost glowed against the darkness outside.
Somewhere deeper inside the kitchen, refrigeration hummed softly. Wind brushed against the glass walls. The city below remained alive.
Inside his arms though, time loosened.
The tremors running through Melissa gradually softened from earthquakes into aftershocks.
Her breathing, uneven and fractured at first, slowly borrowed
rhythm
from
his
until they breathed together without trying.
The white-knuckled grip twisting desperately into the fabric behind his back eased little by little until her fingers no longer looked like they were preparing for abandonment.
Trust looked
quieter
than desperation.
That was when Phei moved; because silence was valuable, yes, but only when spent correctly, and because the woman slowly dissolving against him needed laughter almost as much as oxygen tonight.
One arm slipped beneath her knees.
The other curved naturally behind her back.
Then he lifted, Melissa Ryujin Tiamat left the floor with all the warning signs of natural disasters and tax audits.
The noise escaping her mouth afterward was
profoundly
undignified.
’Not mildly undignified, historically undignified.’
The sort of sound capable of destabilizing carefully cultivated reputations.
"Put me down, dragon!"
Phei laughed immediately while adjusting her weight in his arms in a princess carry, the sound bright enough that even the room itself felt warmer afterward.
"Counteroffer,"
he said while starting deeper into the penthouse. "No."
"I am a grown woman."
"Debatable."
"Phei."
"You are currently receiving premium transportation services. Please appreciate the customer
experience
."
Melissa smacked his chest with all the violence of an offended
housecat
.
Not because she lacked strength.
Her arms had already betrayed her anyway,
curling
comfortably around his neck while her body relaxed into his hold with the exhausted surrender of somebody who had forgotten how to ask for softness and looked quietly devastated receiving it freely.
"You’re ridiculous," she murmured while pressing her face deeper into the warmth between his neck and shoulder.
"Ridiculous is my side occupation," Phei answered. "My primary career involves
emotionally manipulating
beautiful women into smiling."
"I’m not smiling."
"Your face is conducting suspicious activities adjacent to smiling."
Against his neck, Melissa made a tiny sound halfway between a laugh and surrender.
Better.
’Much better.’