When they reached home, Evie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket while her eyes were vacant, reflecting her emotional turmoil as she recounted what had happened earlier. She couldn't help but think that if Ezra hadn't arrived just in time, things could have taken a dark turn. She shifted her gaze to the door as Ezra emerged.
Ezra reentered the room, holding a small jar of cream in his hand. His footsteps were soft on the floor as he crossed the distance between them, his eyes scanning her face before they fell to her neck. Bruises were already beginning to form—faint, purple shadows beneath her skin.
"Let me," he said gently.
She hesitated but then nodded, brushing her hair aside. Her fingers trembled slightly.
Ezra crouched in front of her, uncapping the cream and warming a small amount between his fingers. He worked slowly, his touch light as he dabbed it along her bruised skin.
Evie's breath caught — not from pain, but the contrast. Derek's hands choked. Ezra's hands soothed.
She inhaled slowly. "You know, that wasn't the first time he scared me."
Ezra glanced over but said nothing—he simply focused on her neck and continued applying the ointment.
"I never told anyone," she added, her voice low. "Back then, I didn't think it mattered. Or maybe I didn't want it to matter."
Evie stared at her hands, her fingers knotted tightly together in her lap. "I kept thinking I could fix it. If I just stayed calm enough, did the right things, and gave him less to fight about, maybe he'd stop being angry all the time."
Ezra remained silent, giving her the space to continue.
"I'd tell myself I was being dramatic, that I was the problem—that I wasn't trying hard enough. But no matter how quiet I was, no matter how much I bent, it was never enough. He always found a way to make me feel small." Her voice cracked. "Or crazy."
She drew in a shaky breath. "It's like… the more I gave, the less of me was left. I didn't even realize how badly I'd let him break me until now."
Once Ezra finished applying the soothing cream, he found himself sitting next to her, offering the support she needed, even though it wasn't typically his way of doing things. This was unlike him; he had never bothered with emotions, but he knew he had to do what was right in this moment. Evie wasn't just anyone; she was part of a contract with him, and she needed to be at her best for their arrangement to work. He could provide the listening ear that she needed right now.
Evie's throat tightened. "I really thought I could do it right. That I could love someone properly and not mess it all up. But all I did was get hurt again and again. And now I just…" Her voice faded as her shoulders curled inward, her eyes warm with unshed tears. "I feel like a failure."
She didn't expect to cry, but the tears came anyway—silent and full, slipping down her cheeks as she lowered her head.
Ezra exhaled slowly, his voice low but steady. "You're not a failure, Evie."
She looked at him, her eyes glassy.
"You're human," he continued. "You wanted your relationship to work. You gave your best, not because you were weak, but because you were hopeful. That's not something to be ashamed of."
He shifted closer, his tone unwavering. "You didn't fail. You survived. You walked away from it all still standing—even when he tried to break you."
"You're one of the strongest women I know," he said. "Don't let what he did convince you otherwise. Don't let him take anything else from you—not your strength, not your worth."
Evie's lips trembled, but she nodded slowly. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she was breaking.
Ezra stayed close, his presence calm and grounding, like a steady current beneath her storm. He didn't rush her or smother the moment with empty reassurances. He simply let her be—broken, quiet, and real.
Evie wiped her face with the back of her hand, a soft, embarrassed laugh escaping her lips. "Sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with all of that."
"You didn't burden me," he said gently.
She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face. "Do you really think I'm strong?"
"I know you are," he replied.
Her breath hitched. The certainty in his voice didn't sound like pity; it sounded like the truth.
"You've been through worse, and you're still here. That doesn't make you broken, Evie—it makes you brave."
She blinked at him, emotions swelling in her chest again, but this time, it wasn't shame or sadness. It was something quieter… and safer.
Ezra leaned back slightly, giving her space but not distance. "You don't have to be perfect, and you don't have to hold everything together alone."
Evie's heart thudded softly at his words, warm and steady, as their gazes locked onto each other. This moment would have been enough for her to let her guard down, but fate reminded her that this wasn't real. They were in a contract, and it was only natural for him to be concerned because of it, ensuring she could do her part and remain stable.
She forced herself to look away. *This isn't real,* she told herself, breathing deeply.
She could almost feel the tempting pull to lower her defenses, to believe in the kindness of his voice—but no. She had been here before, and it always ended the same way.
Ezra's words hung in the air, but she wrapped herself tighter in her quiet resolve. It was safer that way.
"What are you thinking about?" Ezra asked, noticing the shift in her demeanor.
Evie looked back at him, then shook her head. A small smile eventually broke across her lips. "I didn't know you were such a good listener and motivator."
Ezra shrugged. "You needed it at this point," he pointed out.
She swallowed. "Thank you," she managed to say.
"If you're feeling overwhelmed by anything or anyone, you don't have to face it alone…" He trailed off, but Evie felt the need to interject. It was easy for him to say that because he understood this was a contract; once it ended, they would go their separate ways. She couldn't afford to get caught up in the kindness of his words, offered purely out of goodwill. She couldn't let herself get lost in this. No emotional or romantic entanglement, yet she was breaching.
"I can handle it," Evie replied firmly. Silence stretched between them before he nodded and stood up.
"I don't know if this is the right time, but there's a campaign, and you're the face of it, Evie. If you're not feeling good enough to do it, you don't have to," he said.
Evie hesitated for a moment before replying, "I can do it."
"I'll send you the details then," he muttered. She nodded, and the sound of the door closing behind him made Evie sigh heavily. She placed a hand on her racing heart to steady it.
The studio buzzed softly with activity—lights adjusted, cameras focused, and the subtle hum of anticipation hanging in the air. Evie stood poised, the sleek wristwatch resting against her wrist, but something felt off. Her smiles were polite, her poses practiced, lacking spark.
Behind the camera, the photographer urged, "A little more energy, Evie."
Yet, the connection never quite formed.
Ezra watched quietly in the corner, arms crossed, his presence commanding attention. Without a word, he stepped forward.
"Stop," he said firmly.
Evie looked up, surprise flickering across her face.
"I'm going to show you how it's done properly," Ezra said, moving beside her. His fingers gently adjusted her wrist so the watch caught the light just right.
"Not like you're wearing it—like you own it," he murmured. "Look at me."
Her breath hitched as her eyes locked with his, feeling the weight of his gaze.
"Less posing. More feeling. Confidence. This watch is a statement."
He stepped back, nodding to the photographer. As the camera clicked, Evie softened her expression, letting confidence and challenge seep through her gaze. With each shot, Ezra's quiet approval steadied her, even as the tension between them simmered beneath the surface.
When the last frame was captured, Ezra exhaled, a rare softness in his eyes. "Better. Much better."
Evie lowered her gaze, heart racing—not from the shoot itself, but from the silent electricity in the room.
As the final flash went off, Evie stepped back, releasing a quiet breath. She looked over at Ezra and asked, "Did I do that right? I didn't think posing for a shoot would be that hard."
Ezra gave a subtle nod. "You pulled through."
She raised a brow. "That sounds dangerously close to a compliment."
He allowed a faint smile. "Don't let it go to your head."
Evie chuckled, shaking her head as she walked off to remove her heels.
Ezra watched her go, his expression unreadable.
Finally, everything was back to normal.
It was just work. That's all it was.