The morning light draped itself softly over the sheets, tracing patterns across the tangled bed where Ava and Sebastian lay. For the first time in months, the world felt still. Paris outside was waking—car horns, laughter, the clatter of café cups—but here, in this quiet cocoon, there was only breath, skin, and silence.
Ava's head rested on his chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. She could feel it beneath her palm—steady, strong, human. So many times she'd painted that rhythm in color: red for longing, gray for fear, gold for hope. Now it pulsed beneath her fingers, real and alive.
Sebastian stirred slightly, his arm tightening around her. "You're awake," he murmured, voice low and husky from sleep.
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered. "It feels… unreal."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe because it is. Last night feels like something I dreamed about too many times."
She looked up at him then, his eyes still heavy with morning softness, and she smiled. "Do you always dream about chaos invading your perfect life?"
"Only when the chaos paints murals on my walls and refuses to leave my head," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Ava laughed softly, but the sound carried something else—a shadow of uncertainty. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her. The morning light kissed her bare shoulder, and Sebastian watched her like she was sunlight itself.
"What?" she asked, sensing his gaze.
"Just making sure you're real," he said. "I've spent too many nights imagining you in this light."
Her heart clenched. "Sebastian…"
He reached for her hand, fingers tracing her wrist, her pulse. "Don't," he said quietly. "Don't ruin this moment with what-ifs."
But Ava's eyes softened. "You know we can't just pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist."
He sighed, sitting up beside her. The bedsheet fell away, exposing the strength in his body, the lines of tension that even sleep couldn't erase. "I know," he said. "But for one morning, I wanted to."
A silence stretched between them—comfortable and aching at once.
Finally, Ava rose and walked toward the balcony, the sheet trailing behind her like spilled silk. The air outside was crisp, filled with the scent of coffee and rain. Paris shimmered below, golden and endless. Sebastian joined her a moment later, standing close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
She turned to him. "What happens now?"
He hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. "What do you want to happen?"
"I want honesty," she said simply. "No more running. No more pretending we're not what we are."
He met her gaze, and for once, there was no mask. "Then I'll be honest." His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip. "I love you. I tried not to, but I do. You've ruined every plan I ever had to stay safe."
Her breath caught. It wasn't the first time she'd felt love between them, but it was the first time he'd said it.
She closed her eyes, letting the words sink into her skin. "You always talk about safety like it's something worth keeping."
"It was," he said. "Until you."
Her lips curved into a trembling smile. "You make it sound like I'm dangerous."
"You are." His voice dropped lower. "And I've never wanted danger more."
The kiss that followed wasn't desperate this time—it was deep, slow, reverent. The kind of kiss that feels like a vow. He lifted her effortlessly, setting her on the railing's edge. Paris spread behind her, but all she could see was him.
"Say it again," she whispered.
He kissed the hollow of her throat, her collarbone. "I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching closer. "You're going to make me believe you."
"That's the point," he murmured against her skin.
Their lovemaking was slower now, softer than the night before but filled with an intimacy that terrified them both. It wasn't lust anymore—it was something deeper, a recognition that they were crossing from want into need.
When it was over, Ava leaned against him, breathless, tracing idle shapes across his chest. "You always think in terms of control," she said. "But love doesn't follow rules."
"I'm starting to learn that," he admitted.
She tilted her head. "Then learn this too: I'm not here to be protected, Sebastian. I'm here to be with you."
He looked at her for a long moment before nodding. "Then maybe it's time I stop protecting what doesn't need saving."
They spent the rest of the morning in quiet conversation—half laughter, half confessions. He told her about his fears, the sleepless nights, the loneliness behind every success. She told him about her doubts, her guilt for walking away. By the time the sun climbed higher, they weren't just lovers—they were partners rediscovering each other in truth.
Eventually, reality knocked. Sebastian's phone buzzed. He ignored it once, then twice, but the third time, Ava reached for it and handed it to him.
"Take it," she said gently. "You can't hide from your world forever."
He answered reluctantly. His tone shifted instantly—cool, composed. "Yes. Understood. I'll be back tomorrow." When he hung up, he met her eyes. "London. The board's moving against me again."
Ava nodded, already expecting it. "Then go."
"I don't want to leave you."
"I know," she said softly. "But if we're going to make this real, you have to face your world. And I have to face mine."
He hesitated, then reached for her hand. "Promise me this isn't goodbye."
She smiled faintly. "It's not. It's just… to be continued."
He kissed her one last time, long and lingering, before pulling away. As he left the apartment, Ava stood on the balcony, watching him disappear into the Paris crowd. A piece of her went with him, but another part stayed—stronger, grounded, quietly certain.
Because for the first time, love didn't feel like an escape.
It felt like coming home.
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