Adrian
I didn't know kisses could feel like this.
Since meeting Maxen, I've realized every kiss before him was… forgettable. A warm-up act before the real show.
There's nothing more addictive than kissing the love of your life.
It's like silence after chaos.
Like finally finding the rhythm your heart had always been searching for.
"Let me get changed while you prepare the bath. I'll come in after I'm done," Maxen said softly.
Before he could disappear into his room, I tugged him back by the wrist and kissed him—once, quick, tender.
Then again.
I couldn't help myself.
Kissing him had become my new addiction.
Maxen didn't just kiss me—he grounded me. Anchored me.
And now, standing in the soft golden hallway light, watching him slip into the room across from mine, I realized how deeply I craved his nearness—even if separated by a single wall.
I lingered there a moment longer than necessary.
My fingertips still tingled from where I'd cupped his neck.
My chest still ached—in the best way—from all I'd poured into that kiss.
Finally, I turned and headed to the bathroom. The water hissed steadily into the tub, steam curling upward like a quiet invitation. I added a splash of cedarwood soak—Maxen's favorite. He mentioned it once, casually, as if it didn't matter. But I remembered. I always would.
While waiting for the tub to fill, I reached into the drawer beside the sink and pulled out a small box.
I hadn't planned to give it to him tonight.
But after everything—after the kiss, after my parents, after the way he held me like I belonged to him—I knew the moment had arrived.
Inside was a simple leather bracelet. Deep brown. Handcrafted.
A tiny engraved charm dangled from the band.
Home finds you.
It had started as a gift to celebrate the café.
But now… it was something more.
A promise.
A confession.
"What's that?" Maxen's voice came from behind me.
I turned—startled. I hadn't even heard him enter.
Without hesitation, I held the bracelet out to him. "Maxen," I said, heart lodged in my throat, "you might think what I'm about to say is cheesy or dramatic, but I don't care."
His eyes softened, curious.
"Since I met you… you've changed me. You made me believe in true love. You made me see that I don't have to choose between duty and love—that I can be both. You've shown me that love doesn't follow a map. It just… finds you. If your heart's open."
I handed him the bracelet.
"Thank you for letting me feel all of this. Not everyone gets to fall in love and be loved back. You're my gift, Maxen. I just hope nothing ever comes between us."
He looked down at the charm.
Home finds you.
His lips trembled. His eyes glistened.
"Adrian…" he whispered, voice thick. "Why would I think this is dramatic? Everything you said… it's everything I've wanted to hear my whole life. I didn't think anyone could ever love me back."
His voice cracked slightly.
"You know what happened with Ryan. That scar… and then my dad, walking out. It's always just been me and my mom. I didn't think anyone would ever want someone with this much… baggage. But you—" his gaze found mine, steady and full of awe—"you proved me wrong."
A tear slid down his cheek.
"I love you, Adrian. You didn't just find me. You became my home."
"Maxen…" I whispered, wiping his tears as my own slipped down my face.
We held each other like we'd been waiting years to do it.
I cupped his neck, kissed each falling tear, and murmured against his skin, "The only tears I want to see on your face are from ecstasy when I'm making love to you."
Maxen let out a choked laugh, blushing. "Pervert," he mumbled, nudging me with a grin.
I grinned right back and scooped him up in my arms.
"Come on. Before the water gets cold."
But just as I turned toward the bathroom, Maxen's phone rang.
We both froze.
It was late. Too late for casual calls.
He frowned, and I set him down gently. He moved toward the nightstand, where his phone lit up with a simple label: Unknown Number.
He hesitated. Then picked it up.
The moment he pressed the phone to his ear, I saw it—
—the color draining from his face.
The tremble in his hand.
The sheer, unnatural stillness that followed.
"Maxen?" I rushed to his side. "What is it? What did they say?"
He didn't answer.
I grabbed the phone from his frozen fingers, lifting it to my ear just in time to hear the tail end of a breathless sentence:
"...ICU. Emergency contact."
Then the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, dread sinking fast in my gut.
Maxen still hadn't moved.
Something terrible had just cracked our perfect night.
And I had a sick feeling—
Lena. Maxen's Mom.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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