Aveline
The world was quiet.
Not the world outside this luxury mansion—no, that world never truly slept. This was her world. The one Ruby built with blood, power, and silence. The world she gave me.
It didn't matter anymore. I was part of it now. Whether I wanted to be or not.
I woke slowly, like my body was afraid to return to consciousness. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar in its perfection, too clean, too expensive, too untouched by the mess inside my chest.
Then I felt her.
Ruby lay beside me...close enough to shield me from anything that dared to exist, yet far enough to make sure she didn't cross a line I never drew but she still respected.
She wasn't a mafia in her sleep.
She wasn't Ceo.
She wasn't feared.
She looked like someone who had fought for far too long and finally let her guard slip.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes. Her jaw, usually sharp with control, was slack with exhaustion. Even her breathing felt heavy, like sleep had dragged her under instead of welcomed her in.
She looked… human.
Without thinking, without asking myself for permission, I lifted my hand and ran my fingers through her red hair.
Soft. Always softer than it looked.
I'd always been obsessed with it how it burned under the sun, how it darkened at night, how it felt like fire and comfort at the same time. My touch was careful, reverent, like I was afraid she might disappear if I pressed too hard.
She didn't wake up.
Or maybe she did—and chose not to move.
With Ruby, you never really knew.
I let my hand rest there, breathing her in, grounding myself in the quiet proof that she was real, that last night wasn't some cruel dream stitched together by pain.
This world might be hers.
But in this moment—
She was mine.
I stood up.
Pain flared instantly—sharp and familiar. My nerves throbbed like they were reminding me of everything I'd lost. My ankle protested, a deep ache sinking into the bone, but I ignored it anyway. I always did.
I needed air.
Something was wrong—my chest felt tight, my thoughts too loud for the quiet room.
Moving slowly, carefully, I walked toward the balcony. Every step was measured, practiced. I'd learned how to walk with pain without letting it show.
I slid the glass door open just enough to slip through, then closed it softly behind me. The last thing I wanted was to wake Ruby. She needed this sleep more than I needed comfort.
I leaned against the railing, letting the cool morning air kiss my skin.
The sun was rising.
Gold spilled across the sky, brushing the edges of the mansion, lighting up the pool below like molten glass. For a moment, the world looked innocent—like it didn't know what it had taken from me.
I breathed in slowly.
This was my favorite hour. The space between night and day. The only time the world felt honest.
Behind me, Ruby slept.
Ahead of me, a future I was still learning how to survive.
And somewhere in between—
I stood there, hurting, breathing, still here.
I felt Ruby before I heard her.
Her presence was quiet, careful—like she was afraid even the air might hurt me. Then warmth settled over my shoulders as she draped her jacket around me. It swallowed me whole, heavy with her scent, grounding and suffocating at the same time.
She stood behind me. Close enough to shield me from the world. Far enough to let me breathe.
I didn't want to cry.
God, I didn't.
But my tears betrayed me anyway—hot, silent, slipping down like they'd been waiting for permission.
My voice came out broken, barely a sound.
"You promised me, Ruby… that I could dance."
The words shattered as soon as they left my mouth.
"You said just two months," I whispered, my throat tightening. "Two months and I'd dance again. I waited. You were—" my breath hitched, "—painfully sweet. Everyone was. Everyone knew."
I swallowed hard.
"And you all knew it was finished."
I didn't turn to face her. I couldn't. If I did, I'd
break completely.
Her arms came around me then—not tight, not possessive. Just there. A quiet hug, full of restraint, like she was afraid I might disappear if she held me wrong.
I didn't know whether I wanted to push her away or melt into her. I wanted her and didn't want her in the same breath. So I did nothing.
I just placed my hands over hers.
Ruby leaned forward, her lips brushing my cheek—once, then again—soft, apologetic. Her voice trembled when she whispered,
"I'm sorry, Aveline. I know."
Her forehead rested against my temple.
"You can dance," she added, almost desperately. "The doctor said you could."
I let out a small, broken laugh that didn't sound like laughter at all.
"They said I could," I whispered. "Short dances.
Small ones. Not long. Not real."
My fingers tightened around hers.
"My ankle can't take it, Ruby. The pain—" I shook my head slowly. "It reminds me every time."
The sunrise blurred in front of my eyes, gold turning into nothing but light and tears.
"I didn't lose dancing," I whispered. "I lost who I was."
And this time… Ruby didn't try to fix it.
She just held me while the truth finally said itself out loud.
Ruby kissed me slowly—my cheek, then my temple—each touch careful, like she was afraid even affection might break me.
I turned to face her.
The moment our eyes met, something inside me collapsed.
I grabbed her shirt, my fingers curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My knees gave out before I even realized it was happening. The pain in my ankle flared, sharp and unforgiving, but I didn't fight it.
I let myself fall.
Ruby caught me instantly.
She dropped with me, one knee hitting the marble floor, her arms locking around me as if she'd planned for this moment all along. She didn't try to lift me. Didn't tell me to be strong. She just held me—solid, unmovable—while I broke apart against her chest.
The sobs came ugly. Loud. Uncontrolled.
I cried into her shirt, soaking it, clutching her like a child who didn't know how to stand anymore. My shoulders shook so hard it hurt, but she didn't flinch. One hand cradled the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, the other firm around my waist—anchoring me.
"I know," she whispered, over and over, her voice rough. "I know… I've got you. I've got you."
Her heartbeat was fast beneath my ear. Too fast. Like she was holding herself together just enough so I could fall apart safely.
I hated this—hated being weak, hated the way my body betrayed me, hated the quiet truth settling in my bones.
But Ruby didn't let go.
She stayed there on the cold floor with me, letting my grief soak into her, letting me cry until my chest burned and my voice cracked into nothing.
And in that moment, I understood something terrifying.
Ruby Sun wasn't choosing violence today.
She was choosing restraint.
She was choosing patience.
She was choosing to carry my pain instead of destroying the world for it.
And somehow… that hurt more than blood ever could.
Later, she carried me inside.
She always does.
I loved that part—the way Ruby held me effortlessly, like my weight was nothing to her. Her grip was strong, practiced, built from years of violence and survival… yet with me, it was careful. Gentle. Like she was holding something that mattered more than power ever did.
As soon as we stepped into the lounge, her voice cut through the air—cold, sharp, unquestionable.
"Mr. Han. Bring soup."
It was a simple command. Two words. No emotion.
But the authority behind it wrapped around me like armor.
Every time she spoke like that, I felt it—that quiet certainty that nothing could touch me while she stood there. Like the world itself had been ordered to behave.
She set me down on the couch slowly, making sure my ankle was settled, then reached for a blanket and draped it over my legs with the same precision she used when handling weapons. Protect first. Always.
Moments later, Mr. Han returned with the soup. He placed it on the table, nodded once, and left without a word. He didn't need to be told—this was private territory. Ruby's space. Ruby's person.
She stayed beside me.
Didn't check her phone. Didn't move away. Just sat there, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, her presence heavy and grounding.
Leon trotted over then, tail wagging like he'd won the lottery just by finding me alive. He pressed his head against my knee, whining softly, eyes too bright, too relieved.
Ruby glanced down at him.
"Easy," she murmured—not cold this time, just low. "She's tired."
Leon listened. Of course he did.
I watched them—my dangerous hubby and our oversized shadow—and something warm and painful settled in my chest.
This was her love.
Not loud.
Not pretty.
Not gentle in the way people expected.
But steady. Commanding. Protective to the bone.
And for the first time since everything broke, I felt… safe enough to breathe.
Later
I saw her first before I even understood what I was seeing.
Ruby. My Ruby.
Leaning against the balcony railing. Her jacket long gone, cigarette crushed at her feet, hair sticking to her damp forehead. She looked… broken. Not tired. Not sad. Broken.
I froze. My ankle protested with a sharp pang, but I didn't care. I crossed the room, every step careful but urgent.
"Ruby…" I whispered, soft, almost afraid my voice would shatter her further.
She didn't turn. Didn't even flinch. Just leaned heavier against the railing, jaw tight, fists gripping the cool metal.
I reached for her, sliding my hands over hers, warm and trembling. "We'll figure it out… together. We always do."
Her head finally moved, hair falling over her eyes. That red glare, sharp and dangerous, flicked
toward me. Her voice came low, deliberate, cutting the quiet morning like a blade:
"We will… but I'll make sure he dies."
My breath caught. The weight behind her words…
I didn't need to ask who. It was Kim Da Hyun.
Always him. Always the cause of our pain.
I pressed closer, forehead against hers. "Ruby… we'll handle it. Together."
the Ruby I loved—surfacing briefly. Then she tilted her head, eyes meeting mine, a dangerous glint flashing behind the storm.
"Yes," she whispered, voice rough. "Together… but he won't live to see it."
I didn't pull away. Didn't even blink. I let her anger, her grief, her need for vengeance wrap around me. I let her be all of herself—even the parts that scared me—because I knew this was Ruby. Not just mine. Not just the mafia king. My Ruby.
And somehow, even here, broken, exhausted, desperate, she was still mine.