And now she carried ten years of grief.
Ten years of blood and ghosts and memories sharp enough to wake sleeping wounds; carrying grief without setting it down because stopping meant vulnerability and vulnerability meant Phei stood unguarded from the world in the house of vultures who wanted nothing but his doom that they'd happily celebrate.
Melissa did not need pressure to confront her grief but all she needed was an anchor.
In all those years Melissa had been convincing herself endurance and healing were the same thing.
So, she held herself together.
Until now.
And standing there inside her quiet penthouse while moonlight rested across bookshelves, orchids and warm navy walls, Phei simply held her tighter because sometimes love looked dramatic and expensive and impossible.
To let her KNOW she did not have to be invincible.
And sometimes love simply looked like refusing to let somebody tremble alone.
