💬 A Quick Note
I’d still love your feedback on the English version as new chapters are released.
Feel free to leave a comment below or contact me by email. 🖤
Rain drums against my umbrella all the way to the heavy wooden door of our building. I shake it out before folding the soaked fabric, my fingers numb with cold, then climb the stairs in silence. My key turns in the lock with a familiar click.
I push the door open.
The apartment is warm. The air smells like bergamot tea. I stand on the threshold for a second, as if familiarity alone might be enough to keep Kaelen outside.
I take off my soaked coat and ankle boots, leaving Edinburgh’s cold on the doormat.
I move quietly down the hall and stop at the entrance to the living room. My gaze sweeps over everything, searching for tangible proof that my world hasn’t shifted off its axis.
The morning mugs are still on the rough wooden coffee table. One of Liam’s old T-shirts, stained with blue and brown paint, is draped over the back of a chair. The broad leaves of our plants frame the window, fragile barriers against the gray night.
On the sideboard, our vacation photos still smile back at the camera. Beside them, a neat stack of wedding invitations printed on elegant cream paper waits to be mailed.
I stare at all of it with ridiculous concentration.
The mugs. The stained shirt. The plants. Our photos. The invitations.
Proof.
My life still exists.
Liam is sprawled across our oversized corduroy sofa, half asleep. His sketchbook balances precariously on his chest, a piece of charcoal trapped between loose fingers. A gray smudge streaks the bridge of his nose.
I walk over and gently lift the sketchbook away, setting it on the glass table. The tiny movement wakes him.
His eyelids flutter. His blue eyes find mine, clear but blurred with honest exhaustion. A lazy smile forms.
« You’re home. »
His voice is rough with sleep.
« I was hoping to find you in bed. That sofa is going to destroy your back eventually. »
I run a hand through his messy blond hair.
He stretches with a slight grimace, his joints cracking in the quiet room.
« I was waiting for inspiration. It stood me up tonight. »
He sits up and pats the empty space beside him. I slide in. His warmth wraps around me immediately.
« Did your night with Chloe end well? »
The question is innocent.
Still, Kaelen’s crushing shadow rises instantly inside me.
I hold Liam’s gaze. I refuse to blink.
« Fine. Nothing special. We mostly talked seating plans and flowers, and Chloe tried to convince me no marriage can survive without a good bar. »
I keep my smile in place.
Easy.
Too easy.
Liam gives a soft, indulgent laugh and slips an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side.
« She’s probably right. »
I rest my head on his shoulder.
His warmth surrounds me. Reassuring. He isn’t trying to take anything. He isn’t calculating. He simply holds me as if our world is still a normal place.
« Want me to make you tea? » I ask, starting to rise.
His arm tightens, keeping me trapped against him.
« No. Stay. Come to bed with me. »
A few minutes later, we’re under the covers. The intimacy of our bed feels like an absolute refuge. The sheets are cool, but Liam’s body is comforting heat beside me.
He stares at the ceiling, his mind still stuck in the studio.
« That gallery piece is driving me insane. »
« The one with the stretched shadows? »
« Yeah. I think I finally have the angle, but I’m not sure. I’ve been staring at it for seventy-two hours. I need another set of eyes. Come have lunch at the studio tomorrow. »
His smile widens in the dark.
« I’d like your opinion. And I desperately need an excellent excuse to eat something other than plastic-wrapped convenience-store sandwiches. »
Liam’s light humor feels like a lifeline. I grab on.
« Only if you promise to keep your paint-covered fingers away from my coat this time. »
« That wasn’t my fault. I wanted to touch you and forgot I still had paint on my hands. One o’clock? »
« One. It’s a date. »
« You know you’re my favorite critic. »
« That’s flattering, Liam, but I know absolutely nothing about chiaroscuro or perspective. »
He presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
« You can tell when something feels wrong, Harper. Even when you pretend you know nothing about painting. »
He smiles against my skin.
« And, incidentally, you stop me from surviving on cold coffee and plastic sandwiches. »
A silent laugh shakes through me despite everything.
« I do it for art. Not for you. »
« Liar. »
The word should make me smile.
Instead, it goes straight through me.
Liam closes his eyes. His breathing soon settles into a slow, deep rhythm.
The night stretches on. I stare at the gray ceiling. The darkness refuses to soothe me. Every shadow cast by the window reminds me of the imposing figure in the bar.
The phone on my nightstand vibrates.
A short, sharp sound slicing through the silence.
I freeze.
I turn my head. The screen lights up. Unknown number.
My stomach contracts violently. I grab the phone with hands that are only barely steady. Blue light washes over my tense face.
« It’s raining here too. But it doesn’t smell the same as that November storm on the roof at Canary Wharf. Do you remember the way you were shaking? »
Canary Wharf.
The roof.
The storm.
The memory tears through me so fast my fingers close around the phone. For one second, I’m no longer in our bed. I’m there again, soaked to the bone, the wind screaming around us.
With him.
I take a screenshot before I even think about it. Stupid reflex. Useful reflex. Then I block the number.
Thirty seconds pass.
My pulse barely slows.
Another vibration.
Another unknown number.
« You can block a number. Not what you feel. »
The second message lands like a cold hand against the back of my neck.
New number. Same poison.
Kaelen isn’t in the room. Yet for one second, it feels like he’s breathing directly behind me.
I select the message. Delete it. Lock the screen and turn the phone face down on the nightstand.
I slide under the covers, desperate for Liam’s warmth.
Even asleep, he reacts to the movement. His heavy arm settles over my hip and pulls me against his chest. It’s the embrace of a man who feels completely safe.
I place my hand over his.
Streetlight filters through the blinds, catching the diamond of my engagement ring.
For one second, it shines.
Then my phone casts its shadow over it.
My peace doesn’t shatter.
Not yet.
It cracks.
What do you think of Kaelen now? 👀🖤
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