I went to Verona alone.
No guards. No weapons. No backup.
Just me.
And her.
And the truth we'd both been running from.
---
The old town square was empty when I arrived.
Fog hung low over the cobblestones. The fountain was silent. The trees were bare.
She was sitting on the bench beneath the largest tree. The one where we had sat together, months ago, dreaming about the future.
She was wearing a coat I didn't recognize. Her hair was shorter. Her face was thinner.
But her hand was on her stomach.
And her eyes were on me.
---
"You came," she said.
"I said I would."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
She stood.
Walked toward me.
Stopped a few feet away.
"I didn't think you would."
"Why not?"
"Because you've never gone anywhere without an army."
"You're not an enemy."
"Then what am I?"
I stepped closer.
"You're everything."
---
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Damien—"
"I'm sorry."
The words came out before I could stop them. Rough. Broken. Not the way I had practiced.
"I'm sorry for controlling you. For smothering you. For treating you like something to protect instead of someone to trust."
"You were protecting me."
"I was protecting myself." I stepped closer. "I was afraid of losing you. So I held on tighter. And tighter. Until I pushed you away."
"You didn't push me away."
"Then why are you here? Why are we standing in an empty square instead of at home? In our bed? With our daughter kicking between us?"
---
She touched her stomach.
"She misses you."
"Who?"
"Our daughter. She misses your voice. Your hand. The way you used to talk to her at night."
I felt something crack inside my chest.
"I miss her too."
"She's right here."
"I know." I looked at her. "I miss both of you. Every day. Every night. Every moment."
"Then why didn't you come after me?"
"Because you asked me not to."
"You've never listened to me before."
"I'm listening now."
---
She was quiet for a long moment.
The fog swirled around us.
The city was silent.
"I've been seeing someone," she said.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"What?"
"A therapist. Someone to help me figure out who I am."
"Oh."
"Who did you think I meant?"
I couldn't answer.
She stepped closer.
"Damien. Who did you think I meant?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
---
I looked at her.
"Liam."
"Liam?"
"You said you'd been seeing someone. I thought—"
"You thought I was seeing Liam?"
"The way you talked about him. The way you said his name."
"His name is nothing." She touched my face. "You're everything."
"Then why did you leave?"
"Because I was losing myself." Her voice cracked. "Because every day I spent in that penthouse, I became less of who I was and more of who you needed me to be."
"I never asked you to be someone else."
"You didn't have to." She stepped back. "Your world did. The guards. The cameras. The way everyone looked at me like I was your property."
"You're not property."
"I know that now."
---
I reached for her.
She let me take her hands.
"I'm sorry," I said again.
"You already said that."
"I'll say it a thousand times. A million. Until you believe me."
"I believe you."
"Then come home."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not ready."
"When will you be ready?"
She looked at me.
Her eyes were wet.
"I don't know."
---
I pulled her into my arms.
She didn't resist.
Just pressed her face into my chest and held on.
"I love you," I said.
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"I know."
"I love you in ways I didn't know I was capable of."
She pulled back.
Looked at me.
"Then prove it."
"How?"
"By giving me time."
"How much time?"
"As much as I need."
"And if I can't?"
"Then you'll lose me."
---
I was quiet for a long moment.
The fog began to lift.
The sun broke through the clouds.
"How long?" I asked.
"A month."
"A month?"
"Three months."
"Christabel—"
"A year."
"I can't."
"Then we can't."
---
She stepped back.
Put distance between us.
"I'm not trying to punish you," she said. "I'm trying to survive. I'm trying to be a mother. I'm trying to be a person. And I can't do any of those things if I'm constantly worried about what you're thinking. What you're feeling. What you're going to do next."
"I'm not going to do anything."
"You're going to wait."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"As long as it takes."
She looked at me.
"Promise?"
I stepped closer.
Took her face in my hands.
"I promise."
---
She kissed me.
Softly.
The way she kissed me when she wasn't trying to prove anything.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good." I kissed her forehead. "It should."
---
She pulled away.
Walked back to the bench.
Picked up a bag I hadn't noticed.
"I have to go."
"Where?"
"The baby. Her appointment."
"I'll come with you."
"No."
"Christabel—"
"Not yet." She looked at me. "But soon."
"When?"
She smiled.
The real one.
"Soon."
---
She walked away.
Through the square. Past the fountain. Toward the street where her car was waiting.
I watched her go.
The fog had lifted.
The sun was warm on my face.
She was leaving.
But she had said soon.
And soon was not never.
Soon was hope.
And hope was all I had