The day after the divorce, Maya woke up in a place that didn't feel like her world.
Julian's penthouse.
Not because she had slept with him.
She hadn't even touched him besides holding his hand yesterday.
No lines crossed.
No boundaries blurred.
But because Julian insisted—no, commanded—that she shouldn't return to the apartment she once shared with Evan.
"You're not going back there," he said after the courthouse. "Not tonight. Not ever if you don't want to."
And honestly?
She didn't want to.
Too many memories. Too many ghosts. Too much pain embedded in the walls.
The penthouse was nothing like Evan's condo.
His place was modern, stylish, curated for Instagram and public image.
Julian's was… different.
Warm wood floors.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the entire city.
A grand piano in the corner.
Books—not for decoration, but clearly read.
A faint scent of cedar and something darker, cleaner.
Everything about it whispered control, wealth, and quiet power.
Maya stood at the balcony in one of Julian's oversized shirts—he insisted she take it because he didn't want her sleeping in a wedding dress-shaped trauma.
The city stretched beneath her like she had been lifted above her old life.
She closed her eyes, breathing out.
Finally.
Finally, she felt a sliver of peace.
But peace never lasted long in a story like hers.
Not when the past was still alive.
A knock shattered the quiet morning.
Three sharp bangs on the front door.
Maya froze.
Her heart dropped.
Julian wasn't home—he had gone to the office at 6 a.m.
The security downstairs wouldn't let just anyone up.
But that knock… it felt familiar.
Too familiar.
She tightened the shirt around herself and walked slowly toward the foyer.
The knock came again. Harder.
"Ari—open the damn door!"
Her stomach twisted.
Evan.
Her ex-husband. The man who ran away from her wedding.
Why was he here?
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
He knocked a third time. "Maya, I know you can hear me. Open the door!"
She stepped backward, breath shaking.
No.
She wasn't opening anything.
Not for him.
Not anymore.
But before she could retreat further, the door swung open.
Julian stepped inside.
He must have returned early—thank God.
His hair was wind-tousled from speed, his tie loose, his jaw tight. He looked like a storm given human form.
And behind him—
Evan.
Face red. Eyes wild. Shirt wrinkled.
He looked nothing like the polished man she had prepared to marry.
Julian didn't even look at Evan.
He looked at her.
"Maya," he said softly, "go back to the living room."
But Evan pushed past him slightly. "Maya, please—just let me explain—"
Julian's hand shot out, grabbing Evan by the collar and slamming him back against the wall.
Maya gasped.
"Touch her," Julian growled, "and I will remove you from this building myself."
Evan shoved him off, furious. "She's my wife!"
"Ex-wife," Julian corrected coldly. "And legally, she belongs to no one. Certainly not you."
Evan's eyes snapped to Maya. "Why are you here? Why are you dressed like that? Are you sleeping with him already?!"
Maya felt heat flood her cheeks—not from shame, but anger.
"No," she said firmly. "I'm not sleeping with anyone."
Evan opened his mouth again, but Julian stepped between them like a wall.
"You have sixty seconds," Julian said darkly. "Use them wisely."
Evan dragged a hand through his hair. "Maya, I made a mistake."
She blinked slowly. "Which one? Leaving our wedding? Sleeping with my friend? Or signing the divorce papers without even asking if I was okay?"
He flinched.
"I didn't mean to leave with her," Evan said. "It just… happened. I was emotional. The wedding was overwhelming. Lena said things—she lied to me. She said you didn't love me. She said you—"
"Stop." Maya's voice was ice. "Don't blame her. You made your own choice."
Evan's face twisted. "I love you."
"No," she whispered. "You loved the idea of me. But when things got real, you ran."
Evan swallowed hard. "I know I messed up. But we can fix this. We can remarry. We can try again. Please."
Julian laughed—a dark, humorless sound.
"You left her at the altar," he said. "You humiliated her publicly. And now you think she'll take you back because you suddenly remembered you're lonely?"
Evan snapped. "Stay out of this, Julian! This is between me and my wife!"
Julian stepped closer, eyes like sharpened steel.
"She stopped being your wife the minute she signed those papers. And she walked out with me—not you."
Evan's fists tightened. "What is she to you, then?"
Julian didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Maya—really looked at her.
Her trembling hands.
Her guarded eyes.
The painful strength she was trying to hold together.
Then he said quietly:
"Mine to protect."
Maya's heart slammed in her chest.
Evan stared. "What?"
"You heard me," Julian said. "Now get out."
Evan lunged forward—but Julian caught his arm mid-swing, twisting it behind his back effortlessly.
"Try that again," Julian murmured, "and I'll break it."
Maya's breath trembled.
Julian shoved Evan toward the door. "You left her once. Leave her again—and make it permanent."
Evan glared at Maya, pain twisting his features. "You'll regret this," he whispered. "You'll regret choosing him."
"I didn't choose him," Maya said softly. "I chose myself."
Julian opened the door and practically threw Evan out. The security guard immediately stepped up, ready to escort him away.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Maya's legs shook. She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself.
Julian turned to her slowly.
"Maya…"
She didn't let him speak.
She walked straight into his chest and collapsed into him.
Not romantically.
Not seductively.
But brokenly.
Julian froze for half a second—
then his arms wrapped around her with a gentleness that contradicted the violence he was capable of.
Her cheek pressed against his suit. His heartbeat was steady, grounding.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said quietly.
She shook her head against him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For choosing me."
Julian's hand slid up her back, resting protectively against her spine.
"I'll always choose you," he breathed. "Even before you choose yourself."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Julian seemed to realize what he'd said—and released her lightly, giving her space.
"Come," he said gently. "Sit. You need water."
She nodded shakily and followed him.
But deep in her chest…
Something shifted.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something dangerous.
Something magnetic.
Something that felt like the beginning of a storm she couldn't understand.
And Julian?
He felt it too.
He felt everything.