The sun had mellowed to a soft amber by the time Selene finally closed the door to their room. The muffled laughter of Mira, Ronan, Amara, and Riven still echoed faintly from the hall, but here—it was quiet. Soft. Hers.
Antonio stood near the window, jacket draped over a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like he had stepped straight out of a slow-burning film. The golden light outlined his jaw, catching on the faint stubble he'd let grow, and for a moment, Selene just watched him, her heart swelling.
He noticed her eyes and smiled lazily. "You were staring, wifey."
"I was admiring," she corrected, walking toward him with a knowing smirk. "Big difference."
"Mhm," he hummed, pulling her into his arms the second she got close. "You're allowed."
Selene melted into his embrace, fingers brushing the edge of his collar. "It's been a wild week."
"It has," Antonio agreed, lowering his forehead to hers. "But you—handling everything like some goddess of elegance and sarcasm. I don't think I'll ever get over you sketching my black suit and then acting surprised when I looked irresistible in it."
She laughed. "I wasn't surprised. I was… impressed with myself."
"And I was ruined," he whispered, pressing a kiss just beside her lips. "You walked into that showroom in Lille, and I forgot every business stat I'd rehearsed. My entire speech? Gone."
Her cheeks colored faintly. "Stop exaggerating."
"I'm not. I was barely hanging on. Just like now." His hand slid down her back slowly.
Selene's breath caught. She playfully swatted his chest. "The door's locked, right?"
"Triple-checked," he murmured, dipping his lips to her neck. "Because I need you—fully. Not as Nurse Selene, or the runway darling. Just… mine."
Selene's arms circled his neck tighter. "Then take me as I am."
Their kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating rhythm only they understood—built on years of longing, misunderstanding, finding, and healing. When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Antonio cupped her cheek.
"You're my home. Not this mansion. You."
"I know," she whispered. "And you're mine."
They lay down on the soft sheets, tangled in each other, the world outside forgotten. She spoke against his shoulder.
"Do you think the future will always feel this right?"
He ran his fingers through her hair. "Not always perfect. But always ours."
Morning Echoes and White Coats
The sun filtered through sheer curtains, golden threads weaving across the hardwood floor as Selene moved quietly around the kitchen. Her nursing coat was neatly folded over her arm, her hair swept into a bun that still allowed strands of dusty brown-black curls to soften her face.
She paused, spotting a note in Antonio's familiar handwriting beside a still-warm mug of coffee.
> "For my favorite nurse who balances hearts and sketches—
You work miracles. Can I steal you away this weekend?
We'll drive to Annecy. Just us, the lake, and everything soft.
– A"
Selene smiled, her fingers brushing the note before folding it into her sketchbook. Annecy. That lake-town she had always dreamed of visiting… with someone who saw her completely.
Afternoon at the Hospital
The ward was a whirl of measured steps, quiet reassurance, and efficiency. Selene moved from room to room like a melody—soothing a worried child, checking charts with focused calm, and laughing quietly with an elderly patient who'd insisted she should become a "celebrity doctor."
"I'm just a nurse," Selene corrected with a grin.
"Then you're the best kind of nurse," the woman had replied, squeezing her hand.
In a rare quiet moment, Selene sat in the breakroom near the tall windows, sipping a weak coffee when a familiar voice drifted in.
"There she is. I was told the prettiest woman in the ward was working today."
Antonio stood in the doorway, sharply dressed in a black shirt and navy coat. A small bouquet of baby's breath and blush tulips rested in his hand.
Selene blinked. "You… came here?"
"I finished early. And I missed you." He handed her the flowers. "You'll need these for Annecy."
She laughed, lowering her eyes. "That note was real?"
"As real as us."
Evening at Home: Planning the Getaway
At their mansion, the clink of forks and soft jazz filled the evening air. Antonio set two plates on the table as Selene unwrapped the flowers and placed them in a clear vase.
"Why Annecy?" she asked, stirring her pasta.
"You once showed me a painting of that lake when we were… not yet 'us.' You said it looked like something out of a dream."
Her heart caught at the memory.
"You remembered?"
"I remember everything."
Later, as she curled beside him on the couch—her sketchbook in hand, his arm draped around her shoulders—she whispered, "What if we make more than memories in Annecy?"
"Like?"
"Sketches. Photos. Maybe a song."
Antonio kissed her temple. "And a promise."