Aveline
Ruby promised me she'd be back by afternoon.
But dinner passed. Then night.
And still—no Ruby.
I waited all day, the hours dragging on, the villa too quiet without her. A book was open in my lap, but I wasn't reading. My eyes just kept sliding over the same words, mind lost in loops of thought. Worry. Doubt. Overthinking.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I must have dozed off without meaning to.
When I woke again, it was well past midnight. The room was dark and silent, the kind that makes every sound louder. My throat was dry, so I pushed the blanket aside, planning to grab some water. But then I heard it—
A sound I'd never thought I'd hear in this house. Except mine.
Crying.
I froze, my chest tightening. Slowly, I turned my head toward the balcony. The doors were open, the curtains swaying in the night air. And there she was.
Ruby.
She was standing out there, against the railing, head lowered, one hand gripping the metal so tight her knuckles looked white, cigarette in hand, but not smoking it. Just holding it loosely, like she'd forgotten it was there. Her shoulders trembled, her head bowed, and I saw the shimmer of tears sliding down her face.
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
Ruby—my Ruby—the one everyone feared, the one who never let anyone see weakness… was crying.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. I'd never seen her like this. Not once. It was raw, unguarded, and it broke something in me just to watch.
I swear, my heart nearly stopped.
That was the first time I'd ever seen her cry.
I stood up quietly, legs unsteady as I moved closer. The book slipped from my bed without a sound. I didn't care. I just needed to reach her.
Because if Ruby Sun—the lion of this world—could break like this… then I had to be the one to hold her together.
---
I stepped closer, my heart hammering, and reached out with a trembling hand. My fingers brushed against her bicep—solid, warm, familiar.
She didn't flinch. Didn't turn. Didn't even seem startled by my touch. She just kept staring into the night, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Ruby…" My voice cracked as I whispered. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Nothing. No answer. Only the sound of her uneven breathing, the faint crackle of the cigarette burning low between her fingers.
I couldn't take it. My chest ached too much watching her like that. So I pressed myself against her back, resting my cheek between her shoulder blades. My arms wrapped around her waist, clinging tight, as if I could hold her pain inside me instead.
She didn't push me away. Didn't say a word. She just stood there—my strong, unshakable lion—crying as quietly as the night itself.
I knew then she didn't need questions, didn't need answers. She just needed me.
Not my words.
Just me.
So I held her tighter, rocking her gently, determined to be the calm she couldn't find on her own.
---
After minutes that felt like hours, her sobs slowly quieted. Her shoulders rose and fell with one last shaky breath before she finally turned toward me.
I cupped her face in both hands, brushing my thumbs gently across the damp trails on her cheeks. Her eyes were glassy, rimmed red, but instead of words, she just leaned forward and folded into me.
Her arms locked tight around my body, crushing me to her chest like she was terrified I'd disappear if she let go. Her face buried in the curve of my neck, hot breath against my skin, as if she wanted to hide there forever.
I held her back just as fiercely, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other stroking her tangled hair. "Calm down, my beast," I whispered softly, rocking her the way you soothe a storm. "I'm here. Right here. Tell me what's wrong."
She only sighed—long, heavy, broken. A sound that wasn't quite relief, wasn't quite surrender. It carried the weight of things she wasn't ready to name yet.
And I understood. So I didn't push. I didn't ask again. I just let her cling, let her breathe, let her decide. Because sometimes loving her meant waiting, too.
---
She finally spoke, her voice low and trembling.
"Aveline… I remember everything. After talking with Dad at the hospital, when he told me the Sun family heiress can't be scared… I wanted to cry. I wanted to hug him, tell him that being mafia, being the heiress—it isn't easy for me. But I couldn't. I just swallowed it."
His dad is in hospital? But I let her talk.
"And you know… before my mom died, I sat beside her all night, talking until she couldn't anymore. She told me she loves me so much, but she didn't want to make me weak. She said, 'If I die, don't be weak. Stay strong—for me, for your wife, for your family, for your father.'"
Ruby's voice cracked, and she was holding me tightly as though I were the only thing holding her together.
"My dad… he taught me how to love, Aveline. After you came into my life, he showed me how not to hide it. And now… he's in the hospital, suffering with myocardial infarction. His heart's too weak. He could collapse anytime."
---
I froze, shocked by her words. Myocardial infarction. My breath caught, the weight of it crashing down on me. I couldn't believe it, couldn't imagine her father—the unshakable man behind Ruby—reduced to something so fragile.
Without thinking, I pulled Ruby tighter into my arms, kissing her temple softly, trying to pour every ounce of calm into her trembling frame.
"It's okay… I'm here with you," I whispered against her skin. "Don't worry, Ruby. Your dad will be okay."
My own heart ached. I finally understood—her mother wasn't cold because she hated Ruby. No… she had been cold because she wanted Ruby to become strong, to survive in a world that eats softness alive. She couldn't always show her love, but she wanted to build the strongest version of her daughter… even if it broke her heart in the process.
And now here Ruby was, broken in my arms, the lion everyone feared finally showing me her scars.
---
I gently coaxed her away from the balcony, guiding her to the bed like she was made of glass. She didn't fight me, just let me lead her, her steps heavy, her soul heavier.
I eased her down against the red sheets, forcing her to rest, though she clung to me as if I were the last solid thing in her world. Her head pressed into my chest, her hands fisting tightly in my dress, like a lost child desperate not to be left alone.
I stroked her hair, whispering nothing but silence and warmth, just holding her. Slowly, her breathing steadied, her body melting against mine until sleep finally claimed her.
And lying there, I realized something that shattered me—this mafia, this lion the whole world feared, had broken in front of me tonight. I never knew how much she was hiding, how much she was carrying, how much pain lived behind those cold, red eyes.
---
The next morning, I woke before her.
All my anger, my distance, my coldness—gone. Forgotten. None of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was Ruby.
She was still asleep, too peaceful, like the weight she carried had finally loosened its grip for a few stolen hours. The sunlight spilling through the curtains kissed her face, and I found myself just… staring. Adoring. Memorizing.
My fingers traced lightly over her wrist, over the strong veins that had always carried so much power, so much control. I let the tips of my fingers sketch the shapes of letters there—my name, the dancer girl she'd chosen.
I sighed, brushing her hair back gently, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. She didn't stir, just breathed in that deep, steady rhythm of someone lost in heavy sleep.
So I whispered, soft and low, words meant for her even if they never reached her dreams.
"I swear I will always stand with you. My beast, my lion… I'm here. Don't be like this again. Don't you dare break in front of me."
I don't know if she heard me or not. But it didn't matter. That was the vow carved in my chest, and I meant every word.
---
I slipped on my robe over my nightdress and padded quietly to the kitchen. The villa was still, the kind of morning silence that felt almost fragile after last night.
I busied myself with breakfast—toast, eggs, her coffee (black, no sugar, just the way she likes it), a small bowl of fruit. It felt grounding, doing something ordinary, something soft, for the woman who carried the weight of everything.
I was almost done when I felt it—two strong arms wrapping firmly around me.
Ruby.
She hugged me from behind, her chest pressing into my back, her head settling onto my shoulder like it belonged there.
"What's going on, Ruby?" I asked softly, my hands stilling on the counter.
She didn't answer. She just pressed a kiss against my shoulder, lips warm through the thin fabric of my robe. Then, in that voice—the one that always made my knees weak, the one that could undo me in a heartbeat—she whispered, "Nothing."
I turned slowly, just enough to glimpse her face. Sadness clung to her eyes, faint but heavy. Before I could speak, she suddenly pulled away only to twist me fully around, forcing me to face her. And then she hugged me again, harder, like she couldn't stand the distance of a breath.
This time her whisper cracked, raw and trembling:
"I'm sorry for everything. For stopping you. For being cold to you. For hurting you. I'm sorry, Aveline… my love, my life."
My arms flew around her instantly. "Don't be sorry, Ruby. I forgive you—for everything, every damn single thing. Just… be with me. Trust me. Let me hold you."
She nodded, sighing heavy against my shoulder. I let her cling to me, and for once, it felt like maybe she was the one breaking open in my arms.
After a long moment, she stepped back slightly, loosening her grip but still holding on. I didn't want her to leave. I cupped her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. Her eyes, rimmed red, looked lost.
"I'm here, okay? You don't need to hide everything from me."
She nodded again, a faint smile tugging at her lips. God—just that one smile, and my heart thundered so violently I swore it could kill me.
We ate breakfast together after that. Later, in the sunroom, I sat playing with Leon, his fur soft beneath my fingers. Ruby leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder as she absentmindedly stroked Leon too. She wasn't saying much, but she was there. That was enough.
A week passed.
A whole week.
The brokenness, the pain—I know it all now.
---