CHAPTER SIX
Monday morning. Coffee on the counter. Kael still there.
He was dressed for work but not rushing. He leaned against the counter, watching her walk in.
"You're here again," she said.
"It's Monday."
"You work on Mondays."
"I know." He paused. "I wanted to see you before I left."
Her heart did something strange. A flutter she could not control.
They ate breakfast together. Burned eggs again. He was getting better. Only slightly burned this time.
"I have meetings all day," he said. "But I'll try to be home by eight."
"Okay."
He stood at the door. Hesitated.
"Lira."
"Yes?"
"Have a good day."
He left before she could answer.
She stood in the kitchen and smiled like an idiot.
---
She spent the morning at her new studio.
Elena had arranged for a desk. A large one. And shelves. And a table for spreading out drawings. The room was still empty, but it was starting to feel like hers.
She sat by the window and sketched. The view of Queens. The buildings she knew. The streets she had walked a thousand times.
She drew for hours. Lost in it. Happy.
At noon, Elena brought her lunch.
"Mr. Vance asked me to check on you," Elena said. "Make sure you're eating."
"He did?"
Elena smiled. A warm smile. "I've worked for him for twelve years. I've never seen him like this."
"Like what?"
"Worried about someone. Thoughtful. Human."
Lira did not know what to say.
Elena set down the lunch. "He's a good man. He just forgot for a while. You're helping him remember."
---
That afternoon, she visited her father.
Antonio was stronger. Walking without the cane. Talking about going home soon.
She told him about the studio. About the sketching. About Kael asking Elena to check on her.
Her father listened. He nodded.
"He's falling in love with you," Antonio said.
"Papa—"
"I see it. In the way he looks at you. The way he cares." He took her hand. "The question is, what do you feel?"
She thought about it. The flutter in her chest. The way she looked for him in the morning. The way she missed him when he was gone.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe the same."
Her father smiled. "Then don't be afraid, mija. Love is the only thing worth the risk."
---
That night, Kael came home at 7:30.
Earlier than promised. She was in the kitchen, cooking. He stood in the doorway and watched.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said.
"I know. I hurried."
She turned to look at him. He looked tired. But his eyes were soft.
"Rough day?" she asked.
"Long day. Better now."
They ate together. Talked about nothing. Her students. His meetings. The weather. Small things that felt big because they were sharing them.
After dinner, he helped with dishes. She dried. He washed. Like before. Like always now.
"I have something for you," he said.
He pulled an envelope from his pocket. She opened it. Tickets. A drawing class. The best one in the city. Taught by an artist she had admired for years.
"Kael..."
"You said you wanted to learn more. I asked Elena to find the best teacher."
She stared at the tickets. Then at him.
"No one has ever—" She stopped. Her voice was shaking.
"What?"
"No one has ever listened to me like that. Paid attention to what I want."
He looked at her. Serious. Direct.
"I pay attention to everything about you," he said.
She crossed the room. She put her arms around him. Hugged him tight.
He went rigid. Then slowly, carefully, he hugged her back.
They stood like that for a long time. In the kitchen. Holding each other.
When she finally pulled back, his eyes were wet.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Thank you," he said. "For seeing me."
---
That night, she could not sleep again.
She went to the kitchen. He was there. In the dark. Waiting.
They sat together. Shoulders touching. Hands close but not quite touching.
"Tell me something you've never told anyone," she said.
He thought about it.
"When my father died," he said, "I felt relief. Not just sadness. Relief. Like I could finally breathe."
He paused.
"I've never said that out loud. It feels terrible to say."
She took his hand.
"It's not terrible," she said. "He hurt you. You're allowed to feel relief."
He looked at their hands. Then at her.
"How do you always know the right thing to say?"
"I don't. I just say what I feel."
"That's why it's right."
They sat in the dark. Holding hands. Not speaking.
When she finally went to bed, she felt something new.
Not just hope. Not just happiness.
Something deeper. Something that scared her.
She was falling in love with him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tuesday morning. Coffee on the counter. Kael waiting.
He looked nervous. She had never seen him nervous.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. I just..." He paused. "I have a question."
She waited.
"My grandmother wants to meet you."
Lira blinked. "Your grandmother?"
"Aurora. She's... she's the head of the family. She doesn't meet everyone. Only people who matter."
Lira's heart skipped. "She wants to meet me?"
"Yes. Tonight. Dinner at her house."
Lira looked down at herself. Sweatpants. Messy hair. No makeup.
"I have nothing to wear," she said.
"I called Elena. She's coming in an hour."
He had thought of everything. Of course he had.
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she's the only person whose opinion I care about. And I want her to like you."
Lira touched his arm. "She will."
He looked at her. "You don't know my grandmother."
---
Elena arrived with options. Three dresses. Shoes. Jewelry. Everything perfect.
Lira tried them on. Elena nodded or shook her head. Finally, they chose one. Deep green. Simple. Elegant.
"You look beautiful," Elena said.
"Thank you."
Elena hesitated at the door. "Miss Lira. I've known Kael for twelve years. He's never brought anyone to meet Aurora. Never."
Lira did not know what to say.
"He's different with you," Elena said. "Don't break his heart."
She left before Lira could answer.
---
Kael picked her up at 6pm. He wore a dark suit. He looked at her in the green dress and stopped moving.
"What?" she asked.
"You look..." He shook his head. "You look like you belong in a painting."
She smiled. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"It's the truth."
They drove to the Upper East Side. An old building. Old money. A doorman who bowed slightly when they entered.
Aurora's apartment was on the top floor. Old furniture. Old paintings. Old books. The smell of tea and history.
Aurora herself was small and fierce. White hair. Sharp eyes. She looked at Lira like she was reading every secret she had ever kept.
"So," Aurora said. "You're the girl who married my grandson."
"Yes," Lira said. "I'm Lira."
Aurora looked at Kael. "She has good eyes. Strong."
Kael almost smiled. "I know."
---
Dinner was formal. Five courses. Crystal glasses. Silver spoons.
Aurora asked questions. Many questions. Where did Lira grow up? What did her father do? How did she meet Kael? What did she study? What did she want from life?
Lira answered honestly. Queens. Kindergarten teacher. Her father was an engineer. She met Kael through business. She studied early childhood education. She wanted to make things. Draw buildings. Maybe design them someday.
Aurora listened. She did not smile. She did
not frown. She just listened.
After dinner, Aurora dismissed Kael to the library. She wanted to speak with Lira alone.
They sat in the living room. Tea in fine cups.
"You love him," Aurora said. Not a question.
Lira hesitated. Then: "Yes. I think so."
"You think so?"