The wind carried the scent of rain and river. London's skyline shimmered under a silver-gray sky, the Thames rippling softly beneath the bridge. Ava stood there, her coat pulled tight around her, waiting. Every passing moment stretched thin with anticipation and doubt.
She had told herself not to come.
That it was reckless, foolish.
But when his voice had said "Tomorrow night", she already knew resistance was pointless.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind her — slow, deliberate, familiar.
Sebastian.
He didn't speak at first. He simply came to stand beside her, hands tucked in his coat pockets, his gaze fixed on the river below. The quiet between them was thick, but not uncomfortable. It felt like two halves of a secret finally touching.
"You came," he said at last, his voice low, roughened by something unspoken.
"You asked me to."
"I wasn't sure you would."
Ava smiled faintly. "You should know by now, I rarely do what people expect."
He turned to her, and even in the dim glow of the streetlights, she could see the exhaustion in his face. The tension of the last few days had etched itself into the lines around his eyes. Yet beneath it all, the same quiet fire lingered.
"I've been trying to fix everything," he admitted softly. "To keep the board calm, to silence the press, to make this disappear."
"And?"
"And I can't." He let out a breath that sounded almost like defeat. "I can't make you disappear. I see you everywhere."
The words struck her like a confession.
"Sebastian…"
He shook his head. "I told myself it was a mistake. That I needed control. But every time I close my eyes, I see your face, your hands, the way you look at me like I'm more than a name in a headline."
The river rushed beneath them, wild and endless. Ava turned toward him fully, her heart pounding. "Maybe that's what scares you," she said. "Being seen."
His eyes found hers, dark and searching. "You see too much."
"Then stop hiding."
Rain began to fall — light at first, then steadier, blurring the city lights into soft halos. Neither of them moved.
Finally, he stepped closer, the air between them alive. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured.
Her breath caught. "Maybe," she whispered. "But I want to hear you say it."
He reached up, his fingers brushing a raindrop from her cheek, lingering there. "You make me forget everything I built to keep people out."
A shiver rippled through her, though it had nothing to do with the cold.
"I don't want to be another secret," she said quietly. "If this is real, then I need to know it's not just a moment born out of chaos."
"It's real," he said simply. "Too real."
Something in his tone broke through her walls — that rare honesty, stripped of armor.
The rain grew heavier, running through their hair, their clothes. But neither of them cared. She stepped closer until her body brushed his, the warmth of him chasing away the chill.
For a long, suspended moment, they stood there, just breathing the same air. The city roared faintly around them — cars, sirens, life — but here, on this bridge, there was only them.
Sebastian lifted her chin gently, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "Tell me to stop," he said, voice low, trembling at the edges.
She looked up at him, her eyes steady despite the storm. "I can't."
And just like that, the restraint shattered.
He kissed her — slow at first, almost hesitant, then deeper, with the kind of hunger that comes from too much waiting. The world tilted. The rain poured harder, but it only made everything more vivid — the taste of him, the sound of his breath, the way his hand slid to the back of her neck as though afraid she'd disappear if he let go.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.
"This changes everything," she whispered.
"I know."
He laughed softly, a sound she'd never heard from him before — unguarded, almost boyish. "I'm supposed to be the man with a plan. But right now, I have none. Just you."
Ava smiled through the rain. "That might be enough."
He brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, his thumb grazing her lips. "I don't deserve you."
"Maybe not," she said gently. "But you're here. And that's all that matters."
They stood together as the storm passed, the clouds parting just enough to let moonlight spill across the river. It glowed on the wet pavement, on their joined hands — two people caught somewhere between love and consequence.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet but certain. "I can't hide anymore, Ava. Not from them. Not from this."
"Then don't," she said.
He looked at her, something fierce and beautiful in his expression. "Tomorrow, I'll make a statement. No denials. No lies. Let them see what they want."
"And what about the board?"
"They'll adapt," he said simply. "Or they'll lose me."
Ava's eyes widened. "You'd risk everything?"
"I already have," he said. "The moment I met you."
The honesty in his words left her breathless.
The wind softened, carrying away the last drops of rain. He took her hand again, their fingers locking as if the gesture itself sealed something sacred.
In that moment, it didn't matter what waited on the other side of dawn — headlines, consequences, chaos.
All that mattered was this:
Two hearts standing on a bridge, no longer running, no longer pretending.
Just feeling.