Melody's POV
The morning sun filtered gently through the large window of Marvis's guest room the room I now called mine. Technically. I hadn't moved into his bed, and I didn't plan to. But the house felt more like home than anywhere I'd been in a long time.
I stretched under the soft blanket, blinking sleep from my eyes. The calendar on the wall caught my attention.
February 14.
My heart skipped. Valentine's Day.
I hadn't even realized how close it was. School and law books and long nights of doubts had pushed everything else aside. Still, something about this morning felt... different.
There was a single red rose on my bedside table.
My lips parted in surprise.
I sat up and noticed a small, folded card under the rose.
I picked it up carefully.
My name was written in that familiar, sharp yet neat handwriting I'd started to recognize without effort.
Melody.
I opened the card slowly, unsure of what to expect.
"To the girl who turned my silence into music."
"I don't know how to say the perfect words. But I know how it feels when you smile in the morning like everything's still worth it. When you walk into a room and the air remembers how to breathe again. I know how it feels to want someone to stay even on the days I don't feel like I deserve it.
You're not just the girl who walked into my house. You walked into my life when I didn't think there was anything good left in it. You stayed. You argued with me when I was being ridiculous. You looked at me like I was more than the world made me into.
So I wrote this to ask:
Will you be mine today? Not just because it's Valentine's Day. But because, somehow, every day with you feels like I'm learning to love again from scratch, from softness, from silence."
— Marvis
I stared at the letter for a long time. My fingers trembled slightly, but my heart was beating in a steady rhythm, like it knew the answer before my lips could form it.
I pressed the letter against my chest for a moment, smiling.
That man. That cold, confusing, complicated man… had just written me the most beautiful thing I'd ever read.
I stood up quickly, pulling on a light cardigan over my pajamas. I didn't care that my hair was still messy or that I probably looked like I'd just rolled out of bed (because I had).
I walked down the wide hallway to the kitchen, following the smell of hot cocoa and something sweet.
Marvis stood by the counter, back facing me, wearing a plain black sweater and grey joggers. He looked relaxed, like he'd just woken up too but I knew he never really slept.
"Morning," I said softly.
He turned around immediately, eyes scanning me. "You saw it."
I held up the letter. "I did."
His lips curved in the faintest smile. "And?"
I walked closer, heart pounding. "I didn't know you could write like this."
He scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't either."
I laughed a little and stopped in front of him. "Yes."
His brows lifted slightly. "Yes...?"
"I'll be yours," I said. "Today. Tomorrow. Maybe even longer."
Marvis looked stunned for a second like he hadn't truly expected me to say it. Then he exhaled slowly, almost like relief.
We stood there quietly, the morning sun slipping across the kitchen tiles.
Then he handed me a red mug filled with cocoa. "No chocolates. I figured you'd like this more."
"You figured right."
"And..." He opened the oven and pulled out a tray. "Pancakes."
I blinked. "You made pancakes?"
"They're heart-shaped," he added, awkwardly proud. "Tried, at least."
I looked down at the slightly uneven shapes, some round, some actually heart-like. I laughed again soft, real. "They're perfect."
He looked at me again. "So are you."
My face flushed, and I sipped from the mug to hide it. "You're being cheesy."
"It's Valentine's Day," he shrugged.
"I didn't think you believed in it."
He leaned against the counter beside me. "I don't. But I believe in you."
I looked up, slowly meeting his eyes.
And for once, the world outside that kitchen didn't matter. Not the secrets. Not the mafia. Not even the memories.
Just me. And Marvis.
That night, I tucked the letter into my journal, carefully taping it to the back cover where I kept my most treasured memories.
Not everything had been easy. I had cried, failed, doubted, feared. But today reminded me of one thing:
Even broken hearts can find soft places to land.
And sometimes, the softest place…
Is in the hands of someone who never learned how to be gentle.
Until they met.