Chapter Twenty-Two: Not a Gift
Elena noticed the door was open.
It was late afternoon. The penthouse was quiet. She was walking past the hallway when she saw it—just barely ajar. A room she hadn't seen before. One of the guest rooms, maybe. They all blurred together.
Except this one didn't blur.
She stopped in front of the room,and hesitantly pushed it open slowly.
And paused.
It wasn't empty.
The light was soft—amber, warm. A desk stood near the window, simple but beautiful. A chair that looked like it was chosen for comfort, not style. Shelves. Not filled, but ready.
A plant sat on the windowsill. Real. Watered.
And on the wall?
A frame.
Inside it: one line.
Her line.
"I want someone to know me and stay anyway."
Her breath caught. And her heart thundered once twice thrice till she lost count.
She stepped inside. Slowly. Carefully.
The notebook she'd left beside her bed sat neatly on the desk.
Like it belonged.
Like she belonged.
---
She didn't say anything to him that night.
Not until after dinner.
She found him in his office, sleeves rolled, jacket off, reading something with a furrow in his brow.
He looked up when she entered.
And she just said, "You made me a room."
He stood. "I didn't mean for you to find it yet."
"But you were going to tell me."
He nodded. "Eventually."
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her.
"Why?"
His voice was steady. "Because you said you needed something that had your name on it."
"It's not a gift."
"I know."
"It's not an apology either."
"I didn't intend it as one."
She looked at him for a long moment. "Then what is it?"
He stepped closer. Not too close.
"It's something I hope becomes yours. Not because I built it. But because you choose it."
She looked down at her hands. Then back at him.
There was a softness in her voice now. Dangerous. Honest.
"I've never had a space that was mine," she said. "Not really."
"You do now."
---
She didn't cry.
She didn't thank him.
She just stepped closer.
And for a second, he reached for her.
Just a second.
Her hand caught his wrist. Stopped him.
Their eyes locked.
"I'm not ready for that," she said.
He didn't pull away. Didn't press.
"I know."
She let go.
"But I'm close," she added, quieter.
He smiled, just barely. "Then I'll wait."
---
ELENA'S POV
She sat in the room that night with the lights dimmed low ,her notebook opened and her pen in in hand
She wrote one sentence.
Not about him.
About herself.
"This is the first time I've felt seen without being touched."
She closed the notebook.
And smiled.
A real smile that transformed a face into something sweet and fierce
---
AIDEN'S POV
He stood outside the door,hands running through his hair every so often
Not eavesdropping,and he wasn't pacing either.
Just waiting.
He wasn't used to patience.
But for her?
He'd wait forever if she asked him to. He'd wait forever to have her in his arms with all clarity that she was his in heart and on paper... truly his
And maybe, for the first time, that didn't feel like a loss.
It felt like a start.