Six Months Later - The Exhibition.
Their careers had flourished beyond expectations.
Nana's art had taken the city by storm—her gallery exhibitions selling out within hours, her pieces commanding impressive prices, critics calling her "the voice of a generation" and "an artist who paints with her soul."
She'd opened her own small gallery office in the arts district, a beautiful space where she could work and display her pieces.
Xavier had completed his thesis on Philos mythology (using carefully edited memories as "theoretical reconstructions"), earned his doctorate, and been offered a position as a professor at Linkon University.
His lectures on ancient civilizations were wildly popular, students drawn to his mysterious intensity and the way he spoke about lost kingdoms like he'd lived there.
They'd bought a larger house—still modest compared to Xavier's parents' manor, but with space for Xavier's growing library, Nana's art studio, and eventually (hopefully) a nursery. The backyard had an even bigger apple tree for climbing.
Life was good. Perfect, even.
Which was why Xavier's current mood was so ridiculous.
He stood in the back of Nana's gallery exhibition, holding flowers (white lilies and blue forget-me-nots, her favorites) and bubble tea (taro milk tea, less ice, extra pearls), watching his wife shine.
Nana was radiant. She wore a flowing dress in soft blue, her hair styled elegantly, that star necklace he'd given her glinting at her throat. She moved through the crowd with grace, explaining her artwork to interested buyers, laughing at something a patron said, absolutely glowing with success.
Xavier was so proud he could burst.
Until a young man approached Nana with flowers.
Xavier's grip on his own bouquet tightened dangerously.
The man was tall, well-dressed, probably mid-twenties. He smiled at Nana—too warmly, in Xavier's opinion—and offered her a bouquet of red roses. Said something Xavier couldn't hear over the crowd noise.
Nana smiled back (why was she smiling at him?) and accepted the flowers (SHE ACCEPTED THEM?!), tucking them into the crook of her arm while continuing to discuss something—probably art, knowing Nana, but still—with this stranger.
Xavier's jaw clenched. His crown mark, hidden under his glove, pulsed hot with emotion.Rationally, Xavier knew this was innocent.
Nana received flowers from admirers at every exhibition. She was gracious and professional, accepted gifts politely, and never gave anyone reason to think she was available.
Because she wasn't. She was married. To him. Wore his ring. Carried his marks (hidden under her dress, but Xavier knew they were there—he'd put fresh ones there just this morning).
But rationality had no place in the sudden spike of jealous possessiveness that crashed through Xavier.
That was his Starlight. HIS wife. HIS Nana. He'd waited over a century for her. Had watched her die four times. Had given up immortality, had traded heaven itself, had done everything possible to keep her.
And some random man thought he could just give her flowers? Could smile at her like that? Could stand too close and make her laugh?.
Xavier's hands were shaking.
He waited until the exhibition ended, until the crowds thinned, until Nana finally spotted him and her face lit up with that smile she reserved just for him.
"Xavier! You came!"
She hurried over, still carrying the stranger's flowers along with several others she'd received.
"I didn't see you earlier! Were you here the whole time?"
"Back corner," Xavier said, his voice carefully neutral. He handed her his own flowers and bubble tea. "Congratulations. The exhibition was incredible."
"Thank you!" Nana set all the flowers aside and threw her arms around him. "I sold everything! Can you believe it? Every single piece!"
Xavier held her automatically, breathing in her scent, reminding himself she was his, she'd chosen him, she wore his ring and his marks and his name.
But his eyes kept drifting to those red roses. From that man.
That stranger who'd made her smile.
"Who was he?" Xavier asked, trying to sound casual.
"Who?"
"The man. With the roses."
"Oh!" Nana pulled back, oblivious to Xavier's tension. "That was—I don't remember his name actually. Just an art enthusiast. He bought three of my pieces! Paid full price without even haggling. Very sweet."
Sweet. She'd called him sweet.
Xavier's crown mark pulsed hot enough to burn.
.
.
.
.
.
Later That Night
Dinner was quiet. Xavier picked at his food, answered Nana's excited chatter about the exhibition with distracted hums, couldn't stop thinking about that stranger's smile, those red roses, the way Nana had looked so happy talking to him.
Nana didn't notice his mood. She was too excited, talking about commissions and upcoming shows and a gallery in Skyheaven that wanted to feature her work.
After dinner, they settled into their new bedroom. Nana curled up on the bed with an art book, reading contentedly. Xavier lay down with his head in her lap, letting her fingers run through his hair like she always did.
It should have been peaceful.
Should have been perfect.
But Xavier couldn't stop the dark thoughts spiraling through his mind.
What if someone tried to take her? What if some wealthy patron decided he wanted Nana for more than her art? What if she realized Xavier—broke professor living on a modest salary—couldn't give her the luxury she deserved? What if—
"Xavier?"
Nana's fingers stilled in his hair.
"Are you okay? You've been quiet all evening."
"Fine," Xavier lied. He stood abruptly, unable to lie still anymore. "I'm going to get some air."
He went to their balcony, found the gardening scissors Nana used for her potted plants, and stared at the small decorative shrub they'd bought last week.
The shrub had done nothing wrong.
But Xavier needed to do something with his hands, needed to channel this burning jealous energy somewhere before it consumed him.
He started trimming. Aggressively. Taking off more than necessary. Shaping it with unnecessary force.
The plant was looking increasingly bald.
Xavier didn't care. Trim. Cut. Snip. Each motion releasing a fraction of the tension coiling in his chest.
Mine. She's mine. My Starlight. My wife. Mine mine mine—
Warm arms wrapped around him from behind.
Xavier froze, scissors mid-snip.
"Don't vent your anger to innocent plants," Nana said softly against his back. "The poor thing is almost bald."
Xavier looked down at the shrub. She was right. He'd massacred it.
"I'll buy another one."
"Or you could tell me what's wrong instead of taking it out on vegetation."
Xavier was quiet for a long moment.
Then, roughly:
"That man. Today. With the roses."
"What about him?"
"You smiled at him." Xavier turned in her arms, immediately backing her against the balcony railing, caging her in with his arms on either side. His eyes were dark, intense, burning with emotions he'd been holding back all evening.
"You accepted his flowers. Talked to him. Laughed."
"Xavier, he was a customer—"
"I don't care." Xavier's voice dropped lower, rougher. "I don't care if he bought every piece in the gallery. I don't care if he was professional or appropriate or just being friendly. All I saw was another man giving my wife flowers. Making her smile. Standing too close."
Nana's breath caught at his tone, at the possessive intensity in his eyes. "Xavier, you're being—"
"Jealous? Possessive? Territorial?"
Xavier leaned closer, his face inches from hers. "Yes. All of that. Because you're mine, Starlight. MINE. I've waited over a century for you. Watched you die four times. Gave up immortality. Traded heaven itself. And I will not—CANNOT—watch someone else try to take what I fought so hard to keep."
"No one's trying to take me—"
"Then where should I put this anger?"
Xavier's hand moved to her leg, tracing up her thigh slowly, possessively.
"This jealousy? This desperate need to remind you—to remind the entire universe—that you belong to me?"
Nana shivered at his touch, at his voice, at the raw possessiveness radiating from him. She'd never seen Xavier like this—dark, intense, barely controlled.
It should have been frightening.
It was thrilling.
"You could—" Nana's voice came out breathier than intended. "You could show me. Prove it. Remind me exactly who I belong to."
Something in Xavier's expression shifted—darkened further, heated, became almost feral. "Careful what you offer, Starlight. I'm not feeling particularly gentle right now."
"I don't want gentle." Nana pulled him closer by his shirt. "I want you. All of you. Even the jealous, possessive, slightly unhinged part that destroys innocent plants."
Xavier made a sound low in his throat—half growl, half groan. Then he was kissing her, hard and demanding, swallowing her gasp. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her onto the balcony railing.
"Xavier!" Nana grabbed his shoulders. "We're outside—"
"Don't care." Xavier's mouth moved to her neck, biting down possessively right where that necklace sat. "Need everyone to know you're mine. Need you to remember who you belong to. Need—"
He couldn't finish. Just lifted her, carried her back inside, kicked the bedroom door closed.
What followed was intense, passionate, overwhelming. Xavier loved her with single-minded possessiveness, every touch declaring ownership, every kiss marking territory, every whispered word a claim.
"Mine," Xavier said over and over, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."
"Yours," Nana gasped, overwhelmed by his intensity. "Always yours, Xavier. Only yours."
"Again."
"Yours! I'm yours!" She pulled him closer, met his intensity with her own. "My crown star. My husband. Mine just as much as I'm yours."
That seemed to satisfy something in Xavier. His desperation shifted to thoroughness, his possessiveness gentling into devotion without losing its intensity.
He loved her like he was proving something—to himself, to her, to the universe.
Loved her until they were both trembling and breathless and completely undone.
Afterward, Xavier held her tightly, his face buried in her hair, his breathing still uneven.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For being jealous. For being possessive. For probably being unreasonable."
"You weren't unreasonable." Nana ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. "You were scared. That's different."
"I'm terrified," Xavier admitted. "Terrified that after everything—after finally getting you, keeping you, building this life—something will take you away. Someone will take you away. That I'll lose you again."
"You won't."
Nana tilted his face up to look at her.
"Xavier, I chose you. Across five lifetimes, I've always chosen you. Even when I didn't remember, my soul recognized yours. Do you really think some art buyer with roses could change that?"
"No. But—
"But nothing. I'm yours. Completely, utterly, devastatingly yours. My heart has been yours since Philos. My soul has been bound to yours since the moment you first caught me falling from that tree."
She kissed him softly. "No one can take me from you. Not now. Not ever. I won't let them."
Xavier's arms tightened around her.
"Promise?"
"Promise. Cross my heart, hope to—"
She stopped. "Actually, no hoping to die. We've had enough of that."
Xavier laughed wetly. "Agreed. No more dying. Just living. Together. Forever."
"Forever," Nana confirmed. "Even when you get jealous and destroy innocent shrubbery."
"I'll buy it a friend. They can be bald together."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love. There's a difference." Xavier pulled her even closer. "And I'm sorry. For being intense. For taking out my fear on you."
I like intense Xavier,"
Nana admitted, blushing.
"The possessive crown star side of you is—" She searched for words.
"It's hot."
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Hot?"
"Very hot. The way you looked at me on the balcony—the dark eyes, the rough voice, the 'you're mine' thing—"
Nana buried her burning face in his chest.
"I have a type, apparently. And it's jealous reborn stars who claim me thoroughly."
Xavier's laugh was genuine now, warm and happy. "Good to know. Though I'd prefer not to feel jealous often. It's exhausting."
"Then I'll make sure you never have reason to doubt."
Nana kissed him sweetly. "I love you, Xavier. My crown star. My husband. My everything. And that won't change because of roses or art buyers or anyone else. You're stuck with me."
"Best fate I could ask for." Xavier kissed her again, soft and loving now. "I love you too, Starlight. Even when I'm being an irrational, plant-murdering, possessive mess."
They fell asleep tangled together, Xavier's arms locked around Nana like even in sleep he couldn't let go. And Nana, surrounded by his warmth and his love and his fierce devotion, had never felt more safe, more claimed, more completely and utterly loved.
The balcony shrub would need replacing.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight was for reassurance, for love, for reminding each other that they were bound across five lifetimes and nothing—NOTHING—could break that connection.
Not death.
Not curses.
Not cosmic forces.
And certainly not art buyers with roses.
.
.
.
.
.
⭐⭐⭐
To be continued __