Chapter 53

Chapter Fifty-Three

Ophelia

The hum of the jet engine fills the silence between us, not stifling but charged, like the air before a storm. It’s the kind of quiet that carries a tension just waiting to crack.

Haydn sits across from me, leaning back in his seat, his tie loosened and the faintest shadow of stubble tracing his jaw. He looks worn, the kind of tired that no amount of sleep can fix, but his eyes remain fixed on me. He’s waiting. Patient. Always waiting.

I curl my fingers around the warm mug of tea in my hands, the heat grounding me. “I realized during therapy that I’ve been avoiding a lot of things,” I say, my voice soft, almost drowned out by the engine. But he hears me. His posture shifts, subtle but significant, as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t push. He just waits, giving me the space I need.

I stare into the tea like it holds the answers I’ve been avoiding. “Talking about Keane . . . It was easier for me to hide behind the NDA,” I continue, the words coming slower than I want them to. “But I could’ve said more. It was just . . . hard. Not because I still love him—I don’t—but because I convinced myself I didn’t need to think about it anymore. That I was fine. That I was past the pain the relationship and the loss had caused. After he died I erased all the bad and kept the good moments.”

Haydn’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. His hands clasp togethert.

“Keane was . . . complicated,” I say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “His childhood was . . . traumatic. His parents neglected him, exposed him to too much too soon. He did things most people don’t do until they’re adults. He carried so much hurt, and it followed him everywhere. He used to say I helped him find himself. I wanted to believe that.”

I glance at Haydn, my voice steadying just enough to push through. “I made it my mission to save him. I thought if I loved him enough, if I tried hard enough, I could fix what had been broken. I thought I could be enough to make up for all the things he’d lost.”

Haydn’s jaw tenses, and the emotion in his eyes is unmistakable. He’s angry—angry for me, for the girl I used to be, the one who thought her love could be a salve for wounds she didn’t cause.

“It wasn’t all bad,” I add quickly, because it’s true. “He could be so sweet, so thoughtful. He had this way of making you feel like you were the center of the universe when he was with you. But there was always something simmering beneath the surface—a pain, an anger he couldn’t escape. He tried to drown it in alcohol and drugs. That’s when things were . . . bad—the mood swings, the fights, the times he would disappear.”

Haydn leans back slightly, his gaze unwavering. “And you stayed,” he says quietly, his voice low but resolute. It’s not a question. He already knows the answer.

I nod, the truth settling heavily between us. “I stayed. For five years, I stayed. I thought if I left, he’d fall apart completely. I thought if I just held on a little longer, loved him a little harder, he’d heal. But . . . I wasn’t what he needed. And it wasn’t my job to save him.”

The words sting even as I say them, but they’re true, and I need to say them out loud.

“And then the accident happened,” I continue, my throat tightening around the words. “He was in a coma, and we lost the baby.”

Haydn tries to keep his reaction controlled, his concern etched into every line of his face. “Pia . . .” His voice is low, thick with emotion.

“The accident wasn’t my fault,” I say, the lump in my throat making it harder to speak. “But it still felt like it was. I survived, they didn’t, and that guilt . . . it consumed me. Losing the baby . . . it broke something in me. And after the accident, I couldn’t save Keane either. He was gone. And I . . . I could barely save myself.”

Haydn doesn’t speak. He just reaches out, his hand covering mine, grounding me in a way words never could. The tears come before I can stop them, warm trails slipping down my cheeks. I swipe at them quickly, refusing to let myself drown in the sadness. Not now. Not when I’m finally ready to let it go.

Haydn moves without hesitation, unbuckling his seat belt and closing the small space between us in a heartbeat. He kneels in front of me. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” he says. “You don’t have to carry this, Pia. Not with me by your side.”

My breath catches, and I meet his gaze, my chest tightening—not from pain, but from the sheer magnitude of what I feel for him. Love, deep and unrelenting, swells inside me, threatening to overflow. “I know,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “You’ve shown me that. Over and over again. I just . . . I should’ve let you in sooner.”

His thumb brushes across my knuckles, the simple motion a promise all on its own. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and his voice is raw when he speaks. “I love you,” he says, the words steady and unwavering. “And I don’t care how messy it gets or how long it takes—I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You and me, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I love you too,” I manage, my voice breaking but full of conviction. “You’re my home, Haydn. You always have been.”

His hands cradle my face, his touch so gentle it makes my heart ache. When his lips meet mine, it’s not hurried or desperate. It’s slow, deliberate, filled with all the things we’ve fought through to get here and all the things we have yet to build. The kiss is a vow—a quiet, unspoken promise that we’re in this together.

When we finally pull back, his forehead rests gently against mine, and his breath is warm and steady against my skin. His hands stay cradling my face, like he’s afraid letting go might shatter something fragile between us. His eyes lock on mine, glistening with tears he doesn’t bother to hide.

“We’re not just okay, Pia,” he whispers, his voice low but trembling with emotion. “We’re better than that. We’re us. And no matter how many pieces we’ve had to pick up, no matter how much we’ve had to fight to get here—this? You and me? It’s worth every scar, every tear, every goddamn moment of doubt. Because you’re it for me. You always have been. You’re my forever.”

The words hit me like a wave, overwhelming and undeniable, and the dam inside me breaks. Tears spill freely, and I let them. Because he’s right. He’s always been right.

I reach for him, my hands clutching the lapels of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping me from drifting away. My voice shakes as I respond, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. “I’ve been searching for so long, Haydn. Trying to make sense of everything, to find something that feels like solid ground. And it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He exhales a shaky breath, his lips brushing against my temple before he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze again. His thumb swipes gently at the tears on my cheeks, his touch so tender it almost undoes me all over again.

“I don’t want to be just solid ground,” he says, his voice thick but steady. “I want you. All of you, every day, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because you’re the reason I wake up every morning wanting to be better, to be more. For you. For us.”

I let out a soft laugh. “You’ve already given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

“Then let’s stop looking back. Let’s build something new. Together.” When he kisses me again, it’s deeper this time, fuller, and I can feel the truth of his words in every movement, every breath.

I can feel it. I know—this is it.

This is love.

This is us.

Our forever.