After a few weeks
I was stirring the pot when Dylan's arms tightened around my waist, his warmth seeping through me. I smiled, tilting my head slightly as he nuzzled my neck, his breath brushing my skin.
"Mr. Fynder, this isn't appropriate," I teased, trying to stifle a giggle.
"I don't care, Ceren," he murmured, voice rough with fatigue but laced with tenderness. "I've missed you all day. Honestly, I'm so tired I'd rather just hold you than do anything else."
I chuckled softly, leaning back into his chest. "Aww, I know you've been working hard. But don't worry, dinner's almost ready, and you're going to love it."
He hummed appreciatively, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, "Dinner smells incredible. But not as good as you."
"Smooth talker," I teased, elbowing him lightly.
"Only for you," he smirked, finally letting go to set the table. I watched him for a moment—this man who once lived in shadows, now folding napkins and placing cutlery as though this kitchen was his battlefield and love his greatest weapon.
When we sat down, the candlelight flickered softly between us. Dylan reached across the table, taking my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles with a kind of reverence that made my chest tighten.
"You know," he said quietly, "there was a time I never thought I'd have something like this. A home. A woman who's not just the light but the entire damn reason I fight through every dark day." His voice faltered for a second, then steadied. "You've made me believe in something bigger than survival, Ruth. You've made me believe in us."
I blinked, my throat tightening as his words settled over me like a warm blanket. "Dylan…"
He smiled faintly, his hand tightening around mine. "I don't know what the future looks like. But I know I want you in every part of it. Maybe… maybe one day, this won't just be dinner. Maybe one day, it'll be me coming home to you and our kids running around, and you yelling at me for burning the pasta." He chuckled softly.
I laughed, blinking back the sting of tears. "You? Burn pasta? Never."
"Don't tempt me," he teased, his smirk softening into something more earnest. "But I mean it, Ceren. I see that future when I look at you."
My heart skipped, and I whispered, "I see it too."
He leaned over the table, kissing me gently but with a promise buried in the softness—a promise of tomorrow.
Dinner ended with laughter and crumbs of warm bread scattered across the plates. Dylan insisted on doing the dishes, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt, and flashing me that infuriating smirk every time I tried to help.
"Sit, Ceren," he said in that low voice of his, pointing the soapy sponge at me like a weapon. "You've already cooked. Let me at least pretend I can be a domestic man for you."
I rolled my eyes, leaning against the doorway and watching him. "You? Domestic? This I need to see."
He chuckled, rinsing a plate with surprising care. "You underestimate me. I'm a man of many talents." He shot me a quick wink, and I laughed, shaking my head.
When the last plate was dried and stacked, I noticed Dylan fiddling with his phone. A few seconds later, soft music filled the kitchen—a slow, melodic tune that made the warm glow of the lights feel even cozier. He turned to me, drying his hands on a towel before tossing it aside.
"What are you doing?" I asked, smiling suspiciously.
"Claiming my dance," he said simply, stepping toward me. His hand reached for mine, and I felt my breath catch as his fingers laced with mine, his other hand finding my waist.
"Dylan…" I whispered, my cheeks warming.
"No arguments, Ceren. I've been dreaming of this all day." His voice was low, almost a growl but softened with affection.
He pulled me closer until my body fit against his, his chest warm and solid against mine. We swayed slowly to the music, his thumb brushing lazy circles on my waist as his forehead rested against mine.
For a while, neither of us spoke. It was just the rhythm of the music, the sound of his breath, and the faint beating of his heart under my palm.
"You know," he murmured eventually, his voice breaking the silence, "if someone told me a year ago that I'd be dancing in a kitchen with the woman I love… I'd have laughed. I didn't think I had this in me."
I tilted my head, looking into his stormy eyes. "And now?"
"Now," he whispered, brushing his nose against mine, "I can't imagine wanting anything else. You make me feel… like I'm not broken anymore."
My throat tightened as I placed my hand on his cheek. "You're not broken, Dylan. Not to me. You're the strongest, most beautiful soul I've ever known."
His eyes softened, a glint of vulnerability flashing there. "You always say the right thing, Ceren."
"Maybe I just know you better than you think," I teased, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.
He chuckled, but it faded into something more tender as his lips found mine. The kiss was slow and unhurried, like the world had stopped spinning and all that mattered was us in that kitchen. His hand slid up my back, pulling me even closer, while I curled my fingers into his hair, feeling his warmth surround me completely.
When we pulled apart, our breaths mingled, and I whispered, "This… feels like forever."
He smiled against my lips. "Good. Because I plan on giving you forever."
The song played on, and he twirled me once, making me laugh. He caught me effortlessly, wrapping me back in his arms as though I belonged nowhere else. The moment was simple—no grand gestures, no need for words—just love, raw and unshakable.
The soft hum of the music swirled around us like the faint brush of a dream, as if the universe itself had slowed down to watch us dance in the quiet of our little kitchen. Dylan's hand tightened on my waist while his other hand clasped mine, his thumb drawing absent circles against my skin like he couldn't stand the thought of letting go.
"Dylan," I whispered with a soft laugh, my cheek brushing his shoulder. "What's gotten into you tonight? You're… softer than usual."
He smirked, tilting his head down until our noses almost touched. "Maybe I just missed you too damn much today." His voice was a low rumble, but there was something else there too—an undercurrent of emotion, heavier and quieter.
I searched his face, trying to read the shadows in his storm-grey eyes. "There's something you're not saying," I murmured, my heart picking up in my chest.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he swayed me slowly, like we weren't just dancing but memorizing the shape of each other's bodies in the silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost vulnerable.
"I've been working on something… for you. For us. For them," he said, his words barely above a whisper.
My brows furrowed slightly. "Them?"
He paused, his gaze dropping to where his hand held mine. I felt his grip tighten, as though this moment meant more than I could yet understand. "The places you've been," he said finally, voice raw. "The places that hurt you, Ceren. The places that took your light but couldn't kill it."
A shiver ran through me, my breath hitching. "Dylan…"
"I bought them," he said simply, looking back up at me with eyes burning like embers. "Every single one of those hellholes. The brothels. The houses where people were nothing but… currency. I own them now."
I froze, staring at him as the weight of his words settled over me. "You… what?"
"I couldn't stand it," he said, his voice tightening with emotion. "Knowing what you went through. Knowing there are still people in there, trapped like you were, praying for someone to save them. I couldn't just sit and let that evil live." His jaw clenched, but I could see the cracks of tenderness breaking through his anger. "So I burned the business from the inside out. Bought every building, every rotten wall that held pain—and now I'm rebuilding them. For something better. Something… worthy of you."
My throat closed up, and I felt my vision blur with tears. "Dylan… I…"
He cupped my face with his free hand, his thumb brushing away a tear before it could fall. "I'm turning them into institutes. Places where every survivor can walk in and never feel afraid again. There'll be food, shelter, education, and jobs. No one will be left wandering with scars they can't heal. Not while I have breath in my body."
A sob escaped me, raw and unfiltered. I pressed my forehead against his chest, clutching his shirt. "Why would you… why would you do all this?"
He kissed the top of my head, his voice cracking against my hair. "Because I love you. Because I can't erase your past, but I can damn well make sure no one else lives it. And maybe… maybe if I do this, I can show you that the world doesn't have to stay as dark as it once was."
I lifted my face, my tears streaking warm down my cheeks. "You'd do all that… for me?"
His smile was faint, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. "For you, my Ceren, I'd move mountains. I'd burn the world and build it again, just so you can stand on something that feels safe."
The music played on, but I barely heard it. My breath trembled as I looked at him, my chest aching in the most beautiful way. "You don't even know… how much this means to me. I can't—"
He silenced me with a kiss, slow and deep, like he was pouring every unsaid word into me. His hand slid up my back, holding me so close that I felt the steady thrum of his heart. When we broke apart, he whispered, "Don't thank me. Just… let me love you, Ceren. Let me do this for you. For them. For us."
I pressed my face against his shoulder, my tears soaking into his shirt. "I love you," I breathed, my voice breaking. "More than I can ever say."
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his thumb brushing away another tear. "Then let's do this together. Let's make this world something better. You and me—always."
And as the music slowed, I realized that this wasn't just a promise of love. This was Dylan carving a future out of the ashes—a future where I wasn't just a survivor, but someone who could stand in the light again.
The next day, Dylan took me somewhere without telling me where we were going. He only said, "Trust me, Ceren," as he held my hand in the car, his thumb brushing circles on my skin, a quiet reassurance that whatever it was, it mattered.
When the car slowed to a stop in front of a tall, modern building painted in soft cream and warm earth tones, I blinked in surprise. Flowers lined the walkway, and large windows gleamed under the sun, reflecting life, not shadows. There was no trace of what this place once was—no sign of the horrors that had seeped into these walls. Instead, it radiated warmth, like a promise kept.
Dylan stepped out of the car first and came around to open my door, his hand extended toward me. "Welcome to a new beginning, Ceren," he said softly, his voice full of pride but also something quieter—hope.
I stepped out, my heart already thudding painfully in my chest. "This… this used to be—" I couldn't finish. My throat closed up as my eyes traced the building. I could still see the ghosts of its past etched in my memory, but now, standing here, it was almost unrecognizable.
"It's not that anymore," Dylan said gently, as if reading my thoughts. He slipped his hand into mine, squeezing softly. "This place belongs to you and to everyone who survived. It's not about the pain now—it's about rebuilding lives."
I swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "You did this… all of this?"
"Yes," he murmured, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. "But it's not just mine anymore. It's yours, too. I want you to see it. I want you to feel it."
We walked through the entrance together, and the moment I stepped inside, I stopped.
The walls were bright, painted in shades of pale yellow and ivory. The scent of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby kitchen, and I could hear laughter—laughter—echoing down the hall. There were women and young girls gathered around a table in the main lounge, learning something from a teacher. The sight alone made my knees weak.
Then I saw her.
"Ruth?"
I froze. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze locked on the familiar face—a little older now, but still with those wide, determined eyes. "Fallon…" My voice trembled.
The young woman stood up so quickly that the chair behind her clattered to the floor. "Ruth!" she cried, running toward me.
Before I could react, Fallon crashed into me, her arms tight around my waist. I clung to her like I'd been waiting my whole life for this moment, my tears spilling freely. "Oh, Fallon, my sweet girl…" My voice cracked as I pressed my face into her hair. "You made it. You're safe. You're really here."
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she sobbed, holding me tighter. "They said you were gone. That you'd never come back. But look at you now…" She pulled back slightly to look at me, her smile trembling through tears. "You're free, Ruth. And it's because of him, isn't it?"
Fallon's eyes shifted to Dylan, who was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his gaze warm and steady.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice breaking as I turned to glance at him. "It's all because of him."
Fallon released me just long enough to step toward Dylan. For a moment, she looked hesitant, like she wasn't sure how to thank a man like him, but then she threw her arms around him. Dylan froze for a heartbeat, clearly not expecting the gesture, but then he patted her back gently.
"Thank you," Fallon said, her voice muffled against his chest. "You saved us. Not just me. All of us. We… we thought no one cared."
Dylan's jaw tightened, his hand resting carefully on her shoulder. "Everyone deserves a second chance," he said softly. "No one should live in fear like that. Not anymore."
I couldn't hold it together any longer. Watching him—this man who had once been so rough-edged and untouchable—standing there like a guardian to not just me but to every soul in this place… My heart swelled until it ached.
When Fallon let go of him, I walked up to Dylan and stood on my toes, cupping his jaw with trembling hands. He looked down at me, his eyes softening instantly. "Dylan…" My voice cracked as I whispered, "I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do right now."
His hands slid around my waist, pulling me close. "Good," he murmured with a faint smile, kissing my forehead. "Because I'm just getting started, Ceren. This is only the first step. There are more places like this. More lives to fix."
"You're incredible," I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. "You're… everything."
"And you," he said, his thumb brushing away my tears, "are my why. Every single thing I do, I do because of you."
Fallon wiped her eyes nearby, smiling softly at us. "You two… you deserve this happiness. You really do."
I turned back to her and held her hand. "You'll stay here? You'll let this place help you?"
She nodded, a spark of determination in her eyes. "Yes. I think for the first time, I actually believe I have a future."
Dylan's hand tightened on mine as if silently saying, You gave her that, too. But I knew it was him—his heart, his fight, his vision—that had made this moment real.
I leaned into him, my voice low but firm. "You didn't just save me, Dylan. You're saving all of us."
He kissed my temple, whispering, "No, My Ceren… you saved me first."
The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in bruised shades of violet and gold when Dylan led me outside. The courtyard of the building was strung with warm lights, softly glowing like stars caught in glass. A cool breeze brushed against my face, carrying the distant laughter of the girls inside—safe, alive, free.
I turned to Dylan, my heart already full, but he was watching me with an expression that made my breath hitch. It wasn't just admiration. It wasn't just love. It was something deeper—an unwavering devotion that seemed to burn through him like a vow etched into his soul.
He stepped closer, his hands gently resting on my waist. "You know," he murmured, his voice low and warm, "I used to think I didn't deserve something like this. You. A life where I could feel… clean. Human. But then you came crashing into my life, Ruth. And suddenly, all I wanted was to be the man who could hold you without breaking you."
My lips parted, a lump rising in my throat. "Dylan…"
His thumb brushed over my cheek, where faint traces of old bruises still lingered like shadows. "When I saw you in that warehouse, tied up, hurt—God, Ruth. I thought I'd lose my mind. I don't just love you; I need you. You're the pulse in my veins, the reason I still wake up every day. And when I look at you, I see the only piece of me that's ever been good."
Tears burned in my eyes. He always had this way of speaking—rough, raw, unpolished—but somehow it was more poetic than anything I'd ever read in books.
I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm. "You are good, Dylan. More than you know. This," I gestured toward the building behind us, "what you've done here—only someone with a heart as fierce as yours could do that."
He shook his head slightly, leaning down until our foreheads touched. "I didn't do it just to make the world better, Ceren. I did it because you deserved better. You, Fallon, all of them… but especially you. I can't erase the pain you've known, but I swear I'll spend my life replacing every nightmare with something softer. I'll build a thousand homes like this if it means seeing you smile like you did in there."
My breath trembled as I whispered, "You already have. You've built a home here—" I pressed my hand to his heart. "—and here."
His lips curved into a faint, almost broken smile as he tilted my chin up. "You'll never understand how much I love you, Ruth. It's not just love… it's fire. It's the kind of love that burns me alive and rebuilds me all at once. You're not just my heart—you are me. My mirror. My other half."
Before I could reply, he kissed me—soft but deep, like every word he'd just said was sealed in that single moment. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer, as if the world outside us didn't exist.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and his voice was almost a whisper. "Come home with me. Let me show you what our forever will look like. Not just tonight, but every day after this. I'll spend my life making sure you never doubt how much you're loved."
I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "Forever sounds perfect," I murmured.
He wrapped his arms around me, holding me under the golden string lights as the evening swallowed the last of the day. In that moment, the past didn't matter, and the future didn't scare me. There was only us—two broken souls who had found each other, who had decided that together, we could be whole.