Leon returned one evening with tired eyes and a grin that tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind of smile that hid something he was dying to tell me.
"I got the job," he said, trying to play it cool.
I blinked, the towel in my hands forgotten halfway through drying a mug. "Already? That fast?"
He chuckled, loosening the buttons of his shirt. "They didn't even make me wait a day. I applied to a few places, but one of them, the Carrion Group, they called me right away. They're launching a new branch. They want me as a junior operations manager."
"Carrion Group?" I repeated. The name sounded corporate, sharp, clean. Very unlike us.
He nodded, a mix of excitement and disbelief in his eyes. "It's a huge company. They deal with logistics, shipping, even international trade. It's not exactly my dream job, but the pay's... well, it's good, Nyx. Really good. I could finally save, maybe even help you cut down one of your shifts."
That made me still.
He was thinking long-term. Thinking us.
I turned away under the pretense of rinsing another plate, even if it was already clean. "That's amazing, Leon."
"I start Monday. It's a full-time setup, reports, team briefs, meetings… the works. They said I'll be shadowing the regional manager for the first few weeks. Guess I've got to play grown-up now," he laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
I smiled at that, but deep inside, something stirred. He was stepping forward, fast, maybe even faster than I was ready for. But he was also building a future, for himself, for me, for whatever this thing between us was becoming.
And I admired that. Deeply.
He came closer, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. "I'm doing this for us, Nyx. I want us to have more than just survival. I want a life that feels like living."
I leaned into his chest, letting his warmth fill the quiet corners of my thoughts.
"I'll try to catch up," I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head. "There's no race. Just walk with me."
And in that still kitchen, our shadows curved against the dim light, I realized how much our lives had already begun to change.
[One Year After - Since living together with Leon.]
A year passed.
Not all at once, but in quiet, everyday ways.
One shared meal. One worn-out pillow. One late night conversation at a time.
When Leon moved in, I didn't know what to expect. I wasn't ready to fall in love again, not the way I once had. I thought my heart had long since sealed itself shut, buried beneath the rubble of grief, loss, and all the things I couldn't say goodbye to.
But love has a strange way of sneaking in through the cracks.
It wasn't thunder. It wasn't fire. It was warmth, soft, steady, patient.
Leon's love was never loud, but it lingered.
In the coffee already brewed when I woke up late.
In the way he never left without kissing my forehead.
In how he always said "I'll wait", and meant it.
And somewhere between our shared breakfasts and quiet Sunday mornings, I found myself laughing more. Worrying less. Reaching for his hand without thinking. Trusting, not just him, but myself, again.
I don't know the exact day it happened. The moment I looked at him and realized,
I'm not trying to love him anymore. I already do.
---
That morning felt like any other.
I was folding laundry, his shirts and mine long indistinguishable, when I heard him call from the living room.
"Nyx, come here for a sec."
I walked out, half-expecting him to show me something silly on his phone. But there he was, standing in the middle of the room we'd made our home. A small box in his hand. No crowd. No music. Just him.
My breath caught. My heart stilled.
"I know we don't need to rush," he said gently, "and I know how hard it was for you to open your heart again. But this past year, Nyx, you've changed my life. You gave me something real. Something I'd fight to keep for the rest of my days."
He stepped closer, his hand trembling just a little. "So… can we make this our forever? Will you marry me?"
The world slowed. My heart didn't.
Tears welled up, not from sorrow this time, but from something else.
Something whole.
I knelt beside him before I even realized I was moving, both of us laughing and crying at the same time.
"Yes, Leon," I whispered. "Yes."
---
In that small room, with no fancy lights, no perfect words, just our two hearts finally aligned, a new chapter began. Not because we forced it.
But because we were ready.
The days leading up to our wedding were quiet, almost surreal.
There was no talk of gowns made by designers, no flower arrangements ordered by the dozen. No ballroom, no registry, no pressure to perform. Just us. Just love. Just the simple joy of waking up every day knowing that soon, we'd be bound in name, as we had already been in soul.
We chose to marry under a canopy of string lights in a small garden owned by a friend of Leon's. A place where the world wouldn't intrude.
Only those who mattered would be invited. No more, no less.
I stood by the window, phone in hand, fingers hovering for a long moment before finally pressing the call button.
The line rang. Once. Twice.
Then, click.
"Nyx?" Mr. Francoise's voice came through, warm and familiar.
"Hi, Mr. Francoise…" I swallowed, surprised by the knot in my throat. "I---I'm calling to invite you… to my wedding."
There was a pause, then a small chuckle on the other end. "So the boy finally won your heart, huh?"
I smiled softly, tears welling in my eyes. "He did. Slowly. Gently. And he never once asked me to forget."
"I'll be there," he said firmly. "Wouldn't miss it."
---
But while we stitched together our quiet dream, trouble stirred elsewhere.
Leon came home one night, tense, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual. He threw his blazer onto the couch, jaw clenched.
"She found out," he said.
"Linda?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
He nodded. "She showed up at my office. Can you believe that? She actually marched right in and demanded to see me."
"What did she say?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.
Leon leaned against the kitchen counter, his voice low and bitter. "She said I was throwing away my future. That marrying you was a mistake. That now that I've 'made something of myself,' I should aim higher, someone 'worthy' of the McMillan name. As if I ever gave a damn about that name."
My chest tightened.
"She told me you were baggage," he added quietly. "Said marrying you would 'chain me down' before I've even climbed the ladder."
"And what did you say?" I asked, carefully.
Leon's eyes found mine, fierce, unshakable.
"I told her I'd rather be chained to you for a thousand lifetimes than be free in a house where love never existed."
I felt tears rise unbidden.
"I told her this wedding is happening," he continued. "With or without her blessing. Because you are my home, Nyx. And no amount of money, no corporate title, and no bloodline can ever outweigh that."
I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around him, and held him tightly.
Let the world sneer. Let the past protest.
What we had, this quiet, burning, beautiful thing, was worth standing for.
And we were ready to do just that.
Together.
The garden was quiet.
Not empty, just peaceful. Rows of soft white chairs were arranged under the canopy of a flowering arch, simple yet elegant. String lights hung between the trees, unlit for now but ready to glow when the sun began to fall. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the ground, warm and golden.
No orchestra played. No grand announcement was made. Only the quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird. It was the kind of day Nico might've loved, unassuming, honest, real.
Leon stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a crisp black suit that somehow made his eyes look even softer. His hands were clasped in front of him, but I could see the slight tremble in his fingertips.
He was nervous. Not about the vow, but about me.
Behind the small changing room of the garden venue, I smoothed down the simple white dress I chose. Nothing grand. No veil. No diamonds. Just clean fabric that swayed when I walked. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized her.
But I wasn't alone.
Mr. Francoise stood behind me, fixing the collar of his suit, eyes misty though he tried to hide it.
"You know," he said, voice warm, "Nico once told me that if anything ever happened to him, he hoped you'd find someone who'd love you as much as he did. I don't think he imagined anyone could, but here we are."
I didn't answer right away. My throat was too tight. Instead, I turned and hugged him.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice shaking. "For being here. For walking with me today."
He rested his hand gently on the back of my head. "I'm proud of you, Nyx. And I'm standing with you, not just for today, but for whatever life brings after this."
---
The music began, a soft instrumental, one Leon composed on the old piano in my apartment, played now by a friend. A soft hush fell over the small gathering. Just twenty chairs filled, friends, Leon's few trusted colleagues, and those who had seen our journey from shadow to sunrise.
As Mr. Francoise and I stepped into view, Leon lifted his head.
Our eyes met.
The world softened.
He didn't smile right away. No, his lips parted slightly, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. His gaze trembled, then steadied. And there, finally, his lips curved, a small, stunned smile, like he was seeing a miracle.
The aisle felt endless, yet too short. My heart beat with every step.
And when we reached him, Mr. Francoise turned to Leon, never letting go of my hand.
"I've watched this girl carry the world on her shoulders," he said quietly, but firmly. "I watched her love deeply, and lose deeply. If you're going to take her hand today, do it with everything you are."
Leon nodded, chest rising. "I will."
Mr. Francoise gently placed my hand into Leon's. "Then she's yours. But know this, she still has people who will stand with her. Always."
Leon nodded again, firmer this time. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
---
We stood before the officiant, but honestly, I heard very little of the words. Just the sound of the breeze. The rise and fall of Leon's breathing.
Then came the vows.
He went first.
"Nyx," he began, "You didn't fall into my life. You walked in. Slowly. Hesitantly. And I waited, because I knew you were worth every step."
He swallowed.
"I love you for your strength, your silence, your laughter that took months to return. I love you because you didn't choose me out of need, but because, eventually, you wanted to. I vow to always wait for you. To always fight beside you. And to never ask you to forget what made you who you are."
I had to blink the tears away just to speak.
"Leon… I didn't think I could love again. I didn't even know if I deserved it. But you never forced the door open, you just waited on the other side."
I smiled through the tears.
"You've become my strength. Not by saving me, but by standing beside me while I rebuilt myself. I love you not because I forgot the past… but because you helped me live beyond it."
---
With the final words spoken, rings exchanged, and silence falling between us like a warm blanket, the officiant smiled.
"With love given and received freely… I now pronounce you husband and wife."
"You may kiss your bride."
And just like that, he did.
Softly. Carefully. Like the promise it was.
---
The reception was just a table under a tree. Candles. Warm food. Laughter. Leon's fingers found mine beneath the table, lacing them tightly.
Mr. Francoise raised a glass during his short toast.
"To Nico, who loved her first. And to Leon, who loved her into her future."
I squeezed Leon's hand.
And somewhere in the dusk, for just a second, I could've sworn the cube in my room flickered again.
Maybe it was just the sun catching light through the window.
Or maybe…
Nico had said goodbye.
The moonlight spilled across the room like silver silk, soft and quiet.
Our wedding had ended hours ago, but something still lingered in the air, something tender and electric. The kind of stillness that only follows when something sacred has just happened.
I stood by the window of our shared apartment, now our home, not just mine. My hair undone, the wedding dress traded for something simple, delicate. My fingers gently traced the ring now resting on my finger. Light. Strange. Beautiful.
Behind me, I felt him before I heard him, Leon, quietly closing the bedroom door, stepping forward with that soft patience I've grown to love.
"Nyx," he called gently.
I turned.
He looked at me the same way he did at the altar. Like I was something rare, something not quite real.
He approached slowly, never breaking eye contact. "You're breathtaking."
I smiled. "You've said that five times today."
"Not enough," he whispered.
I laughed, soft, nervous. But it wasn't the scared kind of laugh. It was the kind that said I'm ready.
He stopped just in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my waist. "You sure?"
I looked up at him, this man who stayed when I crumbled, who waited when I couldn't speak, who loved me through silence, and now into forever.
"I'm yours, Leon," I whispered. "All of me. Tonight and always."
His lips found mine, soft, reverent, unhurried. His touch wasn't demanding. It was an answer. A promise. His fingers traced the curve of my back, his breath mingling with mine as he guided me toward the bed with a care that made my heart ache.
Every movement was gentle, as if he was still memorizing the way I felt in his arms. And I let him. I gave myself, not as a wound seeking healing, but as a woman who had chosen again, and chosen him.
There were no perfect lines. No practiced rhythm. Just warmth. Whispers. Skin against skin, breath against breath. His name slipped from my lips more times than I could count, like a prayer, like a promise.
"Leon…"
He held me like I was sacred. And I held him like I had finally come home.
When we lay together, tangled beneath soft sheets, his arms around me and my head resting against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, slow, steady, strong.
"I love you," he said, voice low, pressed into my hair.
"I love you too," I replied.
And this time, it wasn't a maybe.
It wasn't a someday.
It was now. Real. Ours.
---
That night, no ghosts stirred.
No cube flickered.
No shadows lingered.
Only love.
Only light.
Only us.