Elona’s POV
The thunder murmured outside like a restless beast, rolling across the horizon in heavy waves. Raindrops danced against the window of the bathroom, their steady rhythm almost hypnotic. The storm hadn’t let up since the afternoon, and honestly, I was grateful for it. There was something comforting about being tucked away from the world, held in a space that felt... safe.
Tristan’s bathroom was softly lit with candles, tiny flickers of gold reflecting off the white marble tiles. The bathtub, deep and wide, was already filling with warm water as I stood and watched him take action with this romantic gesture. This made me fall for him all over again and that resulted in me having a smile on my face.
“Come here,” he said in a low, quiet voice, but his worry still lingered.
He pulled his shirt over his head and slid out of his pants, folding them neatly and placing them on top of the vanity. I stood there, letting him undress me slowly. His hands moved gently over my skin as he slipped my top over my head and helped me step out of my shorts. He didn’t look at me like a man undressing a woman. He looked at me like he was handling something breakable and precious.
Once the water was just right, he stepped into the tub first and sank back against the edge, then held out his hand for me to join him. I eased myself down between his legs, my back pressed to his chest, and the heat of the water immediately soothed me and my body. His arms wrapped around my waist, and I leaned back into him. His chin brushed lightly against my temple as we sat in silence for a while, the candlelight flickering on the ripples of the water around us.
“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured. “Delance… that woman… she looked at me like I was just another inconvenience. Like you nearly dying meant nothing.”
“I know,” I whispered, staring at the flames dancing on the rim of a nearby candle. “But that’s who she is. That’s what she has always been.”
He picked up the sponge and dipped it into the water, then began to run it slowly over my shoulders and down my arms. “She doesn’t deserve to be in charge of that studio,” he said quietly, his voice tight with restraint. “You are not the first girl sent to the hospital. That’s not discipline. That is abuse. I need it to stop and help others, too.”
I sighed, closing my eyes as his hand glided gently over my skin. “It’s also my dream. My shot. You know what it means to me, Tristan.”
His movements slowed. “That dream shouldn’t come at the cost of your health. Or your safety.”
“I know,” I said again. “But it’s my decision. You can’t protect me from everything, no matter how much you want to. I have to face it. I’m going back tomorrow.”
The water shifted slightly as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss behind my ear. “I figured you would say that.” His voice was raw. “I just… I just needed to try, but I’m worried. I don’t like that you’re going back.”
I turned my head to look at him, and our eyes met. “You did try, and I love you for that. But I have to finish this. I can’t let her win by giving up.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll just have to keep watching from the sidelines. Ready to raise hell if I need to.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “That’s a deal.”
He set the sponge down and wrapped his arms tighter around me. “I keep thinking about everything I didn’t see. The bruises. You hiding how tired you were… I should’ve known.”
“You’ve been going through your own hell,” I whispered. “You were grieving.”
He swallowed thickly, resting his forehead against the back of my head. “That’s not an excuse.”
I turned in his arms until I was facing him, our legs tangled beneath the water. The look in his eyes made my chest tighten, grief, guilt, and a fierce kind of love. “You were there when it mattered,” I said. “You got me to the hospital. You were there when I opened my eyes. You were there for my surgery before. You were always there. You just didn’t know about what we had lost and that was my decision not to inform you at the time. You know now, and you were here for me thereafter, and we are moving on.”
He held my face with both hands. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” I tried reassuring him.
The water rippled softly as I leaned in and kissed him, slow, lingering, like we were both clinging to each other in the middle of a storm we didn’t quite know how to survive yet. When we pulled back, I leaned against his chest again, feeling the rise and fall of his breath under my cheek.
“I’m worried about Cris,” he said after a while. “And David.”
My brow furrowed. “What about them?”
“I’m not sure if we will all be able to speak to each other after the fall out, and I honestly don’t want Spooky getting in the middle of things. But even though I am worried, I’m still disappointed in them for hurting others. You... Spooky. I do hope your Dad and Cris are safe. I don’t want them to make any bad decisions or mistakes. I do worry about my only child’s heart breaking, but I am disappointed in her attitude and the words she has said. I just don’t know how the next conversation might go over smoothly with Cris. Your Dad isn’t even a father to you at this point and that is the biggest disappointment, and I’m sorry that you have to go through that too.” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I know,” I whispered, my fingers brushing gently over his arm. “Don’t let it cloud everything else. Cris wouldn’t do anything to hurt us intentionally. Maybe it’s just her acting out. Maybe she’s still dealing with the hidden grief of her mother. She’s investigating VFS too. I think she does care, but maybe she doesn’t know how to channel whatever she might be going through.” I shrugged.
That got a slight smile out of him. “She’s determined, I’ll give her that. She to be like her mother and make her proud. Maybe you’re right.”
“She will get there. And if anyone can take down Delance, it’s Cris.”
The thunder cracked again, closer this time, and the lights flickered above us. Tristan held me tighter. “What about Spooky?” he asked softly.
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “What about him?”
“I think about him a lot,” he said. His eyes searched mine. “I feel like I still owe him something.”
“You don’t. You owe yourself some grace. You were more of a father to him compared to his own father. You helped him, you have done such a lot for him,” I said.
He sighed, resting his chin on top of my head. “I’m trying to be the best father and person.”
“You are,” I smiled.
The water had started to cool, but neither of us made a move to get out. We were still, tucked into each other, candles burning down to their last inch, thunder rolling on beyond the walls of his home. “I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you more,” he replied.
For the first time in a long time, even as the storm raged outside, I felt like we were finally learning how to weather it.