Melissa hadn't been touched like this before.
Not like this.
Not with the patience of someone who wanted to memorize her.
It was late, and they were alone in David's small flat overlooking the Liffey. The room smelled faintly of books and cedarwood. Rain tapped softly against the window.
They'd kissed for hours. Talked about everything and nothing. And somewhere between his lips trailing across her shoulder and his voice whispering her name like prayer, Melissa knew—this wasn't a night she would forget.
David stood in front of her, fingertips grazing the hem of her blouse, giving her every second to decide.
She met his gaze, heart thunderous. "Yes."
He undressed her slowly, like unveiling art—like every inch of her skin was sacred. Her blouse slid to the floor, followed slowly by her jeans, until she stood in nothing but silk and skin.
David stepped forward, his hands at her waist, warm and sure. "You're beautiful, Melissa."
Her breath caught.
"You make me want to be… more," she whispered. "Like I could be someone good."
"You already are," he said.
And then he kissed her again, and she melted beneath his hands.
They moved together like tides. No rush. No fumbling. Only velvet and fire.
He worshipped her with his mouth, his touch, his words—made her feel wanted, not just desired.
When he finally entered her, she gasped, because even that was gentle, reverent. A soft moan escaped her lips, she wanted to keep from losing control so early…she had to.
They moved in rhythm, and Melissa clung to him like she was afraid of waking up. David whispered her name again and again, and each time it sounded like a promise.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and glowing.
Melissa turned to him, running her fingers along his chest.
"That was…"
"Yeah," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "It was."
A long silence stretched between them—comfortable and golden.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
David brushed a curl from her cheek. "Of what?"
"That this is too good. That I'll mess it up."
He looked at her. "You will. And so will I. But love's not about being perfect. It's about showing up anyway."
She buried her face against his chest, smiling.
And in that moment, with the city breathing softly around them, Melissa knew, this was love indeed.
The morning after the night they shared together, Melissa woke up with a sense of clarity that had eluded her for years. David had already left a note by her side, a short but firm reminder scribbled in his neat handwriting: "We rise early. You've got this."
David understood that real change wouldn't come overnight. Cocaine had its claws deep in Melissa. Her body and mind had grown dependent on the high, on the numbing escape. So, he started small.
He brought her coffee every morning before class. If she resisted getting up, he would call again, and again—until she picked up her call and rolled out of bed. He even bought her an alarm clock and jokingly labelled it "David's PA."
Each morning, he walked her to class—not because she couldn't go on her own, but because she needed someone to help her break the old routine. Her classmates began to notice her presence more regularly, and the professors who once rolled their eyes now nodded in faint approval.
David didn't stop there. In the evenings, after their classes, he reviewed her course material and created mock quizzes. He wasn't in her department, but he studied the textbooks like his own life depended on it. He sat with her in quiet corners of the campus library, answering her questions, patiently walking her through every topic until she felt capable of acing her next test.
But it wasn't just about academics. David brought the campus to life for her. He showed her new places she never knew existed—hidden gardens, art rooms, ethnic food stalls. He introduced her to his circle of friends who were intelligent, driven, and completely drug-free. He made laughter a daily staple, and it worked—campus became something Melissa looked forward to.
He helped her disguise and accompanied her to addiction support meetings off campus. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she laughed, sometimes she sat in silence. David was always there, holding her hand when the cravings got tough, reminding her with both gentleness and strength: "This will not own you. You are more than this."
She relapsed once. A party. A friend she hadn't seen in months. A single line of coke.
David didn't yell. He didn't walk away.
He sat with her on the floor of her room, her tears soaking his shirt, his arms around her. "You slipped," he whispered, "but you didn't fall. And I'm still here. We'll keep going."
And so they did.
Over the weeks that followed, Melissa's obvious transformation didn't go unnoticed. It was hard not to notice. Her once hollow eyes now sparkled. Her slouch turned into posture. Her grades began to climb. The wild child everyone had written off was slowly blooming into a woman of purpose.
Gone were the paparazzi shots of her stumbling out of clubs at 3 a.m., the tabloid covers of her clinging to glasses of champagne and scandalous rumours. Instead, she was seen walking to campus in clean ponytails and understated dresses. She started contributing in lectures. Volunteering.
Even the professors whispered about it.
"Someone's straightened her out," one of them muttered in the staff lounge.
They were right.
But not everyone was thrilled. Not everyone took it at face value, certainly not the Vauhns.
Candice Vauhn stood by the tall windows of their Glenvara estate, arms crossed, a tight line drawn across her face.
"She's glowing, James," she said to her husband. "Actually glowing. And I mean…. she's barely touched wine since Christmas."
James Vauhn adjusted his spectacles, flicking through the printed report in his hands, the one compiled by their expert private investigator.
"And this young man—David… Terverem, is it?"
Candice nodded. "He's from Benue State in Nigeria. A full academic scholarship. Top of his class. No criminal record. No scandals."
James exhaled. "She's serious about him."
"She's in love," Candice corrected.
There was silence.
"She's happy, James."
"And yet… you had him investigated."
"I needed to know if it was real. You've seen what she's been through. The kind of people she used to fall for."
James folded the report and set it down. "Well, if this David has done what we failed to do for years… I think it's time we met him."
Candice turned slowly, her expression softening.
"You're ready for that?"
"I'm ready to know the man my daughter would change her life for."
Meanwhile, in the city, Melissa stood in front of David's bathroom mirror, wrapped in his cotton robe.
He stepped behind her, hands at her waist.
"My parents know," she said softly, meeting his eyes in the reflection.
David didn't flinch. "I figured."
"They had you followed."
He raised a brow. "How thorough."
She smiled faintly. "They want to meet you."
David paused, then nodded. "Then let's meet them."
Melissa turned in his arms, her hands at his chest. "Are you scared?"
"A little," he admitted. "But if they raised you, I can handle them."
She kissed him softly. "I don't want to go back to who I was."
"You won't," he promised. "Not with me here."
Melissa closed her eyes, heart full.
The past was behind her.
And what lay ahead—was just beginning…. hopefully.
David had never been inside a house like Glenvara before.
The Vauhn estate sat like a crown jewel on the outskirts of Dublin—acres of rolling green lawns, imported Italian marble, and architecture that whispered old money in every arch and corner.
As they drove through the tall wrought-iron gates, David sat still, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Melissa glanced sideways at him, trying to read the calm on his face.
"You're allowed to be nervous," she said softly.
"I'm not," he replied. "They're people. I've dealt with worse."
She smiled. "You've definitely never dealt with my mother."
When the car rolled to a stop, the butler opened the door.
Candice Vauhn stood at the top of the stairs like an empress—poised in a cream cashmere dress, her blonde hair perfectly arranged, her sharp eyes assessing every detail before her.
Behind her stood James, dignified and curious, holding two tumblers of aged Scotch.
"David," Candice greeted coolly. "Welcome to Glenvara."
He nodded. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Vauhn."
Her lips lifted, barely. "Melissa speaks highly of you."
"She speaks for herself," he said politely.
That made James smile.
They were led into the drawing room—where old oil paintings lined the walls, and a fire crackled gently in the hearth. Melissa poured herself a water, trying to breathe.
"So," James began. "Tell me, David, what do you study?"
"Mechanical Engineering. Final year. I also research sustainable infrastructure for developing regions."
"Brilliant," James said. "And what are your plans after graduation?"
"I'm interviewing for green tech firms," David replied. "But long-term, I want to build a renewable energy hub in West Africa."
Candice raised a brow. "Ambitious."
He met her gaze evenly. "So was Mr. Vauhn when he started."
Melissa tried to hide her grin.
Dinner passed with stiff politeness and occasional sparks. Candice grilled David with elegant intensity—about culture, family, politics, money. He answered with grace and dignity, never flinching.
But it wasn't until dessert that Candice set down her spoon and spoke plainly.
"My daughter used to come home reeking of vodka and bad decisions. And now, she comes home with books under her arm and light in her eyes. That's you, isn't it?"
David didn't flinch. "She made the choice. I just stood beside her while she did."
Candice nodded slowly.
Then, she stood and extended a hand.
"I'm not an easy woman to win over," she said. "But you've earned something close."
David stood, shaking her hand.
Melissa exhaled. It was the first time in months she'd seen her mother smile genuinely.
Later that evening, when they were alone in her childhood bedroom, Melissa flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.
"You survived."
David raised a brow. "I think I did more than that."
She turned toward him. "You impressed them. And that's not easy."
He brushed her hair back gently. "I didn't come to impress them. I came for you."
Her breath caught, her eyes closed. "God, I love you."
He smiled, leaning down to kiss her. "Then we're already winning."