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Clarity (Fading Lines Sequel)

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Final Part

Fading Lines Masterlist

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Two years later, with your love stronger than ever, you and Lewis are forced to confront what's still unresolved between you, while on a summer getaway with your friends.

Word Count: 19,175 (oops)

Warnings: Anxiety, insecurity, lots and LOTS of tears. Big angst. Lots of emotions. LOTS of FLUFF. Smut. No use of Y/N.

A/N: May or may not have pulled an all nighter to finish this, I was SO in the zone!! But here we are my loves, the final chapter of Fading Lines/Clarity. Get your snacks and tissues READY. Phew what a journey this has been, I've cried, I've laughed, cried some more. I truly hope you all enjoy this. Deep down, this is a love letter to anyone who has ever felt that they are not enough. Know that you are always more than enough 🤍 As always please let me know your thoughts on it, or if there's anything you'd like to see next! It is VERY much appreciated!🤍

The faucet turned off with a soft squeak.

Steam lingered faintly in the bathroom air, floating toward the skylight in slow, ghostly clouds. You stood at the basin, pressing a towel to your face, skin still warm from the shower, fingers trembling ever so slightly. The mirror had fogged, but your reflection peeked through in soft outlines, your damp hair, bare shoulders, lips pressed tight in hesitation.

You didn’t reach for one of Lewis’ shirts tonight.

Normally you would, one of his oversized, soft cotton shirts with faint traces of his scent still clinging to the collar. Not tonight though, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not when things still felt like they could crumble with a single breath. You didn’t want to pretend everything was fine.

Instead, you changed into your own pyjamas, a thin tank and a loose pair of drawstring shorts, the fabric cool against your freshly moisturised skin. You’d brushed your teeth slowly, rinsed twice, and now you stood there with your fingers braced against the counter like it might keep you upright.

The ache hadn’t left your chest since the drive home.

The song, the conversation, the way his voice cracked just slightly when he said he thought you’d have been celebrating something by now. It had all hollowed you out in a way you weren’t prepared for, as if you could feel the version of your life you almost had slipping further out of reach.

Yet, beneath the ache, another feeling stirred.

You looked up, facing yourself in the mirror, and this time, you didn’t flinch.

There you were. A little flushed from the sun, eyes tired from too much thinking, but still soft. Real. Still here.

Your fingers curled lightly against the basin as your reflection stared back, and for a moment, the old whispers tried to rise again. You’re not enough. He didn’t say he loved you back. He could have anyone. He did, before you. He had them all even when you were there. He didn’t want you, you were just the one he settled for.

Kate’s face flickered across your mind, then another, and another. The shadows of past women whose names had once made your stomach twist. The ones you’d compared yourself to on dark nights, even when you knew you shouldn’t have.

This time, you didn’t spiral. You didn’t allow yourself to continue down that path again, knowing the pain it had caused you. Because, at the end of the day, none of them were here.

Not in this house. Not in his arms. Not in his family’s laughter, or in the little girl who had clung to your waist, or in the way his mum had kissed your cheek like you’d always belonged to their family, like you never had to earn your place.

You were the one here.

You were the one who had danced with your friends in the sun. The one who had watched him carry his niece and nephew with all the gentlest love in the world, and had imagined, just for a breath, what it might feel like if that love ever extended to a little family of your own.

You thought of Alexandra’s words again from the cafe. “Lewis chose you. No one else.”

For the first time in what felt like forever…you believed it.

It didn’t matter how anyone else looked at you, it couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like you were everything to him. Not when your friends pulled you close without hesitation. Not when his family made space for you like you had always belonged there.

You were surrounded by love. Imperfect, messy, but real love. Maybe that meant you didn’t have to keep measuring yourself against shadows anymore. This love was yours, not theirs.

You let out a slow breath and lifted your chin.

Nothing had been fixed yet, but you were trying, you would try, and that had to count for something.

You turned off the bathroom light and padded softly into the bedroom. The room was dark, lit only by a pool of moonlight stretching across the floor, and the pale glow spilling in from the open balcony doors. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze, brushing the walls with the softest of sighs. Your side of the bed had been turned down, while his hadn’t been touched.

You searched the room for him, but he wasn’t inside.

Your eyes drifted toward the balcony, where Lewis sat, lounged low in one of the chairs, long legs stretched out, ankle resting over one knee. His phone was in his hand, screen lit as his thumb scrolled absently, without urgency or purpose. Just moving, just filling space.

The moonlight silvered his cheekbone, and the sea breeze ruffled the hem of his shirt. His expression was unreadable in profile, but the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed him. That quiet, tired way he carried himself when he was thinking too hard and not saying a word of it.

You lingered in the doorway for a second too long. Your feet didn’t want to move, and your mouth didn’t want to speak. Your heart was too afraid to find out if the silence between you had transformed into something permanent.

However, you remembered his words at the beach. We’ll talk later. So you stepped out.

The night air kissed your skin, warm but restless, and thick with its usual citrus perfume. The tiles beneath your feet were cool, their edges worn smooth by time. You crossed the balcony slowly, your heart stammering behind your ribcage, until you lowered yourself into the chair across from him.

The seat was cold against the backs of your thighs. You pulled your legs up, crossed them loosely, your arms curling around your knees. The blanket draped over the chair smelled faintly of wood and clean linen. You tucked it tighter around your hips as you settled in as comfortably as you could.

He didn’t look up when you sat down, and the silence stretched out, long and thick with a heavy tension of all the words you wanted to say.

You watched him carefully, studying the faint lines of his face, the faint furrow between his eyebrows, and the way his thumb rubbed absently at his knee, a small habit you’d memorised long ago.

It was only days ago that you’d been here on this same balcony, with the love between you stronger than ever.

His arms around you, pulling you into his lap, and whispering how much he loved you. He’d called you his wife, and touched you as though you were everything to him. You had felt so sure then, so safe, so deeply loved.

Yet now there was a space between you that felt impossibly wide.

You didn’t speak, didn’t move. The blanket wrapped around you was warmed from your body heat, but your fingers began to turn cold, holding tight around the fabric like it could ground you to something real, something that hadn’t slipped through your hands already.

Lewis remained as he was. Still, composed, with the flickering light of his screen catching along his nose and casting faint shadows across his face, softening everything but the set of his jaw.

For the first time, there was no edge to the silence between you. No fight pulsing beneath it. Just…distance. The kind that stretched far too easily between two people who once belonged to each other in the deepest sense. It made your stomach twist and your throat close, because you could feel the unraveling.

You couldn’t bear to let it happen, not like this, not after everything you’d been through together.

Your gaze stayed fixed on the floor, but your eyes stung, the burn threading inward until it reached your heart. You could still hear his voice in the car, playing over and over, that gentle devastation in his tone. That he had pictured a different kind of moment here, one with laughter and light. With a future shared, not stalled by tension or the biggest fight you’d ever had.

You knew he wasn’t punishing you though. He didn’t raise his voice, or point the finger at you. He understood that you hadn’t meant for this to happen, that your fear had become too much for you to bear.

He was grieving you. Grieving the future you could’ve had. The moment that had been lost.

That’s when you realised; if you didn’t speak now, you could lose him forever. Not because he would slam the door on you, but because one day, he just wouldn’t wait at it anymore.

So you found the words, small, trembling, tucked somewhere in the depths of your heart.

You sucked in a small breath, and lifted your chin slightly, your eyes remaining locked on the floor beneath you both.

“I don’t want things to end, not like this.”

Your voice broke faintly on your words, as though your heart still didn’t know how to say it out loud. As though the sentence itself was too close to a goodbye.

You didn’t look up, until you felt the shift in the air, and the silent, subtle turn of his attention. The weight of his gaze found you, heavy with a sensation that made your skin prickle.

The pause lingered, long enough that your pulse began to climb, wondering if this would be the end of everything.

Then, finally, Lewis’ voice broke through the silence, his tone low and raw. “Then tell me where this all came from.”

His phone had gone dark in his hand, as he set it down on the table beside him without looking.

“Tell me what you need,” he added, softer now. “Because I don’t want to lose this either.”

There it was again, that gentleness in him that you adored. It felt like him, that patient, grounded steadiness that had always been there, even when you didn’t know how to ask for it. That unwavering softness beneath the strength, the man who never forced your hand, but never let you slip away easily either.

He wasn’t demanding answers, he was holding out his hands and waiting for you to fill the silence with your truth. To show him, please show him, that you hadn’t already left.

All at once, you felt the hope of the future you’d nearly thrown away. The one that still flickered lightly in the shadows, waiting to be claimed, waiting for you to choose it again. Waiting for you to walk into it, to choose Lewis.

You stared at him, blinking slowly, like maybe if you looked long enough, you’d be able to tell whether this was real. Whether the part of you that still loved him, still ached for him, was allowed to reach for him again.

Lewis meant every word. You could see it in his face, even beneath the tension, even behind the guarded eyes and the hint of sadness worn into the lines of his mouth. There was still love there, still something tender holding on tightly.

Your breath hitched as your chest tightened, a raw, aching pressure building, like everything you’d been trying to suppress had finally pushed its way to the surface.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could catch them, your voice thick and breaking at the seams. “I think I was just so scared of losing you that I convinced myself it was already happening. Like…if I stopped hoping for too much, if I just expected the disappointment, it wouldn’t hurt as much when it all slipped away.”

Your fingers twisted in your lap, breath catching.

“I guess…I didn’t know how to believe that someone like you could stay. That this, us, could truly be mine and no one could take it away.”

As the confession left your mouth, a part of you recoiled inside from the shame. You’d done it, you’d flinched before he ever gave you a reason to, and expected him to leave. You’d made that decision for him before he had the chance to show you the future he had planned for you both. Now that you could see it, name it, it hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Across from you, Lewis didn’t move, but there was an almost imperceptible change, his shoulders drawing inward just slightly, as if your words had struck deep inside. Still, he didn’t look away, and that, more than anything, made you want to keep going.

“I thought I was finally okay with who I was,” you murmured, your eyes dropping to your lap. Your hands twisted slowly in the hem of your sleeve, like it might steady your fingers when your heart wouldn’t stop shaking. “I thought that the years of doubt and second-guessing were behind me. That I could finally just…be. With you, in this life, and that it would be enough.”

Your throat tightened, the words pressing up from somewhere deep and tired.

“But it only took some careless words, or the wrong look at the wrong time, and suddenly all of it just came rushing back.” You breathed slowly between words, trying to hold yourself together. “And I let it. I let it chip away at me and all the healing I’d done. I let it drown out everything I knew was true, everything you’d ever given me reason to believe.”

You inhaled shakily, blinking through the sting in your eyes as your voice dropped even lower.

“I started shrinking myself before anyone else could do it for me, and I hate that. I let it get in the way and ruined everything. All the pieces in me you’d healed just broke apart.”

You paused to swallow the thick lump in your throat. The silence that followed felt full of unshed tears, unspoken hopes, words that had lived too long in your chest. Still, he listened, waited, and still, he stayed.

“But it wasn’t fair to you,” you shook your head softly, your eyes lifting again to find his. “You never once made me feel that way. It was me, I did that to myself, and I’m so sorry.”

It was the most vulnerable thing you’d ever said, because it meant admitting how much you wanted to be right with him. How badly you wanted to hold onto what you had, even if it meant owning the pieces you’d shattered.

The moment between you was held open by the quiet, aching, and alive. It felt like a door just beginning to open to a deeper understanding of each other, a new kind of love.

“I love you so much, Lewis,” you confessed, the words catching as they left your lips. Your voice trembled, pulled thin by the weight of it, the rawness of speaking your love into the air. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

It was too much and not enough, all at once, because it wasn’t just about him. It was the way your fear had wrapped itself around your heart like armour, the way the past had convinced you that too much love always ended in loss. You had tried to protect yourself, and in doing so, had nearly ruined the one thing you didn’t want to live without.

“When you love someone like this…this deeply,” Your fingers pressed lightly to your sternum, as if to ease the pain swelling there. “You have everything to lose, and it scares the fuck out of me, because sometimes when I look at you, I think, what if this is it? What if I never get this kind of love again? What if I lose it because I wasn’t enough…or because someone better came along, and you realise-”

Your voice broke, you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Your mouth parted again, but no sound came. It hung there anyway in the silence, all the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say, all the fear crammed into a single breath you didn’t want him to hear.

“I couldn’t bear that,” you continued at last, barely audible. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Your heart skipped at the way his eyes hadn’t left you once, even when your words had faltered, listening intently and allowing you the space to speak the vulnerable truth that hid deep in your soul.

“I’ve never had a love like this before,” you admitted, your hands clutching gently in your lap, fingertips brushing the soft fabric of your sleeves. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to, didn't think I deserved it.”

You could still feel the memory of his touch, imprinted like warmth through your skin. You thought of the way he’d held your hand that morning, before everything had unraveled, and how natural it had felt, as though it was something you were never meant to go without.

Your lips parted, breath catching slightly before the next words came.

“This kind of love…that’s so real, and deep, it’s like some kind of fairytale I always thought was reserved for other people. Girls who were already perfect, and beautiful. People who were just…meant for it, in all the ways I never felt I was.”

You looked up at him again, and this time, your gaze didn’t falter.

“And then you loved me.”

The words came out like an exhale, weightless yet impossibly heavy at the same time. They settled between you delicately, holding the trembling edges of your belief as if still healing.

“You gave me this life that feels like something I could only ever have dreamed of,” you sighed, your tone filled with wonder. “Waking up next to you, seeing the world with you. Watching you chase your dreams and getting to stand beside you while you do. Spending time with your family, our friends, all these small, ordinary moments that somehow feel extraordinary with you. It’s like a life I never thought I could have. Not until you.”

Your vision blurred as the tears crept quietly down your cheek slowly, like spring rain on warm stone.

“And I think I’ve spent so long bracing myself to lose it…that I never learned how to just stand still and feel the good parts. Like I’ve been living with one foot out the door, convinced it was too good to be true. That one day I’d wake up and it would all be gone, and I’d realise I’d only imagined it. That none of it was ever truly mine.”

You wiped your face with your sleeve carefully as you continued.

“I know I messed up, I let my insecurities get too loud. I let it drown out all the things I already knew, all the things you’ve shown me, over and over again. I stopped trusting in us, and I hate that I did, because I know better.” You choked down a small sob. “But I want to be better at this. I want to be present, I want to be brave.”

Another breath, shakier this time.

“I don’t want to lose you just because I didn’t love myself enough to believe I could have something this good,” you breathed, the truth breaking open from the depths of your heart. “You’re the one for me too. You didn’t wait until you were ready, you chose me even when it scared you. And…now it’s my turn.”

Your voice had steadied now, stronger and more certain than you’d ever been.

“I want to fight for this. For us.”

Your words rung through the air, with the stars as witness to the vow you were making to save this love. The silence after your confession thrummed tightly like the space between lightning and thunder. You could feel it everywhere, in the tension of your shoulders, in your rapid pulse in your chest, in the delicate sting of where your tears trailed beneath your eyes. What you’d offered wasn’t rehearsed in any way, it had come from somewhere deeper, stripped bare of polish or protection. Laid open like a wound and left there in the quiet between you.

Lewis remained silent, sitting with his frame still, unmoving, as though the heaviness of your words had pinned him to the spot. His gaze was fixed on you, his eyes holding that same unreadable mix you’d seen before; pain, layered with disbelief and a recognition that felt terribly human. It was as though he’d heard you, but didn’t yet know what to do with the shape of it.

The silence continued, so quiet you could hear your heartbeat rising in your ears, each thud climbing higher in your throat. Your fingers tightened unconsciously in your lap, nails pressing crescents into your palms as you fought the urge to fill the quiet with something, anything. You didn’t though, you simply held your breath, letting the impatience and anxiety simmer low in your belly, trying your best to calm yourself.

Still, he said nothing. He looked down briefly, as though the floor offered more clarity than your face. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw flexing once with what looked like restraint. The kind that sat in your chest like a stone and made breathing feel like effort.

A part of you wanted to reach for him. Just to hold his hand and remind him that you were here. That you hadn’t said those things to hurt him, that you only wanted to fight for him. Meanwhile, another part of you, the one still splintered from everything you’d been through, stayed frozen, terrified that your honesty had tipped the scales too far.

Please, you thought, not even daring to whisper it. Please say something. Please don’t let this be the part where it all slips away.

Lewis moved forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. His fingers laced and unlaced once, while his breath slowly dragged in, then out again, and his head dipped lower for a beat before rising back up to meet your eyes.

The hurt was still there in his expression, pressed into the line of his mouth, but it had shifted. When he finally spoke, his voice was frayed, like it took effort to get the words past the tightness in his chest.

“Honestly, you know what scared me?”

The question landed like a ripple, and you barely managed a nod, your throat too sore to speak.

His gaze didn’t leave yours this time. He held it as he exhaled, as though pulling the truth up from somewhere deep and long hidden. His shoulders rose with the breath and fell just as slowly, but the weight hadn’t fully lifted.

“It wasn’t just losing you. I mean…fuck, it would’ve wrecked me,” he murmured, the words becoming rough. “But I’ve lost people before. I’ve walked through shit I didn’t think I’d survive. I know what it’s like to rebuild from nothing.”

Lewis paused, tongue sliding briefly across his lower lip, like he was searching for the right way to say what came next. His hands clenched once before relaxing again.

“What scared me was thinking that you never really believed it or felt it. That deep down, you never actually let yourself believe how much I loved you.”

HIs words struck deep, measured, true, and it hurt, because it had lived inside you too, all that time. A shadowed corner of doubt neither of you had dared to fully face.

His voice grew quieter, more intimate, as though he was confessing a deep secret.

“I would’ve done anything to protect what we have, protect you. I thought I was, but all that time that I was trying to hold everything together…you were out there trying to protect yourself from me.”

Your spine straightens slightly at his confession, breath tightening. The ache behind your ribs flared hot from the accuracy of it. You didn’t mean to flinch, but you did, and he noticed.

His features softened immediately, some of the tension around his eyes loosening. His voice dropped even further, rough with restraint but steady in his intention.

“I never needed you to be perfect,” he said, each syllable deliberate, as though he needed you to hear them without distortion. “You already were, and you don’t even know it.”

The words settled over you quietly, your heart splitting open like an old door creaking open to the light. You hadn’t expected this kind of grace, or this love. Your fingers trembled in your lap as your eyes blurred further, and all you could do was sit there, trying to hold together the pieces of yourself he’d just made feel whole again. You blinked away your tears, listening to him intently and letting yourself just feel it.

“You never needed to prove anything to me,” he continued, his eyes burning into yours to make sure you heard every word. “I never wanted you to perform for me, or be someone you’re not. I just needed you to believe that you didn’t have to earn any of this. Not my love, not this life, not me.”

The breath you were holding slipped out unevenly, trembling against your lips. You’d spent so long trying to be enough, trying to be perfect without ever realising you didn’t have to be. That maybe you already were. The heat behind your eyes swelled, and you brought your hand to your mouth, trying to still yourself and hold on, while your entire sense of self gently tilted on its axis, slowly healing.

“This was always meant for you.”

Lewis leaned forward again, his hands staying clasped loosely between his knees, thumbs pressing into each other in a slow, restless rhythm, a small tell that betrayed the storm still moving through him. His glassy brown eyes dropped again, tracing the grain of the balcony floor as if the answers might live there, then rose slowly to meet yours.

“I’m still trying to understand how we got here,” he admitted, his voice no longer hiding the ache. “Still figuring out how to move past it.”

He blinked as his jaw flexed faintly, but when he looked at you again, there was no anger. Only weariness, and what looked like hope, though not fully formed yet.

His voice dropped lower, almost a breath. “But I’m here.”

He exhaled deeply again, and the tension in his shoulders eased as his next words came, so soft you almost didn’t hear it, but you felt it all the same.

“And I’m still choosing you.”

A small sound escaped you, barely more than a gasp, a breath caught in your throat. Your hands hovered for a beat before pressing gently over your lips, as if trying to hold the moment in place. Because for all the ache, all the doubt and distance that had carved space between you, he was still here. Still reaching for you, still choosing to be yours.

Your heart raced in your chest, a fragile rhythm of relief and disbelief at the same time. A genuine hope you hadn’t dared to feel in days.

Lewis was still watching you carefully, as though he knew how much this cost you both.

“But I need to know,” he added, his tone even softer now, “that you’re going to choose yourself too.”

The words were like a balm to your soul. He wasn’t just offering himself, but asking you to stand beside him whole. Just you. Only you.

You nodded slowly, a sweep of motion that felt heavier than it looked. Your palms drifted down, fingertips curling into each other against your heart, grounding yourself in this moment of being seen fully, and still being chosen. Of being asked to stay, not only as someone who loved him…but as someone finally willing to love herself too.

The tightness in your chest began to loosen, the knot you hadn’t realised you’d been holding for so long finally starting to give way. It didn’t erase the hurt or close the distance that had grown between you completely, but it was enough to remind you of something truer beneath it all, that neither of you would ever stop reaching for the other.

Across from you, his expression had softened, that small wave of hope crashing over you both. However, he didn’t move, he kept his elbows balanced on his knees, his gaze dropping to the table between you, not quite ready to meet you fully just yet. The sounds of the sea and nature around you filled the quiet, a low, constant rhythm, while the evening breeze drifted lazily between you.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Lewis shifted.

His right hand moved first, as if he was thinking through every muscle it took to reach for you. He lowered his hand until his palm rested open between you over the low table, fingers relaxed, waiting. An offering without words or expectations. It was a gentle invitation, telling you that he was here without having to speak it aloud.

Your breath snagged, shallow in your chest as you stared at his hand, before lifting your own. Your fingers hovered just above his hesitantly, as though they’d forgotten how to find their way back after so many days of distance. The gravity of it hit you all at once, what this meant, what it didn’t yet mean, and how fragile this moment was, suspended on a thread you weren’t sure you trusted but wanted so badly to.

And then, carefully, you placed your hand in his.

His skin was warm, and his touch grounded you as his fingers curved around yours instantly, firm enough to anchor, yet loose enough to allow you to breathe. It was him letting you know you were safe here, if you chose to be, and you didn’t let go.

Instead, still holding his hand, you rose from your chair in one slow, measured motion. The scrape of the chair legs against the stone floor sounded louder than it should’ve, sharp against the night. You stepped around the table that had been dividing you, and lowered yourself into the space beside him. Close enough that your knees touched, and you felt the brush of his shoulder against yours, sending a slow, unspooling ache through your chest.

His thumb brushed along the side of your hand with delicate strokes, like muscle memory finding its way back. A small, wordless reassurance that he was still here, still yours, even if you were both still figuring out what that meant.

For a while, the two of you stayed side by side, no longer divided by the tension that plagued you both, the air around you softer somehow. The distant crash of the waves rose and fell beneath you, the night folding around your shared quiet.

Your breath trembled before your voice did. When the words finally came, they were softer than you expected, fragile in their certainty.

“I will,” you whispered, tilting just enough to catch his eyes in the muted light between you. “But I’m choosing you too. I want this, I want to make it work. Whatever it takes.”

There was a subtle shift in him, just enough to loosen the guardedness he’d carried. His jaw eased, his chest rising on a soft breath, like he’d been holding it without realising.

His thumb traced a slow path over your knuckles as he mulled your words over before he spoke.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently, like a promise folded into a question.

You hesitated, your throat tight around the words. “I think…reassurance,” you admitted finally, the sound catching as it left you. “Not all the time, just…enough to shut the noise out sometimes.”

He watched you silently, as though he was memorising you in this light, in this moment. Then, slowly, his free hand lifted, fingertips brushing along your jaw before cupping the side of your face.

“I can do that.” He nodded, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone tenderly.

Your breath hitched at the contact, the comfort of his touch soothing the starvation the past few days had left you in. His eyes dipped, lingering on your mouth just long enough for heat to spark low in your chest, and then he hesitated. For a heartbeat, it felt like he might close the space, like the anticipation was pulling him forward.

Instead, his thumb traced up to the corner of your eye, catching the tear you hadn’t realised had fallen. He brushed it gently aside, and when he leaned in, his lips pressed to your hairline gingerly.

When he drew back, you kept your hand against his, holding him there, unwilling to let him go.

“I know I don’t always make it easy,” you added, your voice barely more than a tremor between you. “I overthink, and I let those things get to me…but I want to do better, for us.”

“Hey, I don’t make it easy either,” he confessed, his fingers moving back into your hair. “I’ve lived with it for so long, all the media, the pressure…my past. Sometimes, I forget how much I’m asking from you, and how heavy it gets when you’re still learning to carry it.”

You breathed him in, your chest tight, and your heart thudding slower now, slowly finding calmness through his touch.

“But I see you how hard you try,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly along your jaw. “You shouldn’t have to, but you do…and I need you to know that I don’t take any of it for granted.”

It was strange, how a few syllables could rearrange that void that had been growing inside you. The only response you found was a soft squeeze of his hand and a barely audible, “Thank you.”

Lewis held you there with his gaze, thumb tracing idly down your jaw to your chin. The closeness between you felt different this time, not just its usual spark, but something deeper, stronger.

You turned into his touch slightly, seeking him without thinking, before letting the next question slip softly past your lips. “What about you? What do you need from me?”

“Your trust,” he replied after a brief stall. “That’s all I’ve ever really needed. I can’t always control the noise, but I need to know you won’t let it drown out what we have, because none of it could ever change what I feel when I’m with you.”

You let the words sink into your heart, threading themselves through every fracture between you. His past, the speculation, the fears you hadn’t always managed to keep buried.

“You have it,” you whispered without hesitation, your voice steadier than you felt. “I promise.”

His lips curved faintly, softer than a smile, but warmer than relief, and he leaned in just enough that the air between you felt electric again. “I’ll hold you to that.”

This time, it was you who bridged the last inch, tilting closer until your noses brushed, that small, familiar gesture neither of you had reached for in what had felt like forever. His forehead came to rest against yours, and he let out a quiet exhale that fanned across your lips.

Eventually, after a few moments of silence and a careful lacing of your fingers, Lewis drew back just enough to look at you. His eyes were filled with a warmth you hadn’t seen in days, framed by his long eyelashes.

“Come with me,” he spoke softly, his lips stretching further, drawing out that dimple you adored on his cheek.

You blinked at him, searching his face for a clue, but he only kept that faint, almost secretive softness in his expression.

He rose from his seat slowly, tugging you with him patiently. Without letting go, he led you back into the bedroom.

The air inside felt cooler somehow, as the breeze stirred through the open balcony doors. Shadows pooled around the edges of the room, the sheets pale beneath the spill of moonlight. He didn’t pause by the bed, instead, he kept walking until you were both standing before the tall mirror on the far wall.

Your reflections painted across the surface, haloed by the soft light of the lamp in the room, edges touching in silhouette. You caught your own reflection first, but Lewis’ presence beside you drew your focus instantly.

“I want to show you something.” He released your hand and moved to stand behind you.

For a moment, you weren’t sure what you were meant to see, until your eyes drifted back to yourself. There you were, eyes slightly puffed from crying, red-rimmed and glossy. Tear tracks staining your cheeks in uneven streaks. Lips reddened, lashes damp and clumped together. The sight made you falter inside.

Hours ago, in the bathroom, you’d faced the other mirror. You’d stood straighter then, breathing deep, clinging to the renewed sense of strength you’d wrestled back from the dark. You’d believed, for a fleeting heartbeat, that you could choose yourself, choose this love, that maybe you were enough.

Yet now, after unravelling every fear in front of him on the balcony, after laying yourself bare in a way you’d never dared before, you felt stripped to the bone. There was no armour left, no careful mask, just you. Messy, vulnerable, exposed.

The worst part was that you knew what he’d said out there was true. You felt it in your heart, his words reaching deep inside the wound that was still pulsing beneath the surface. However, knowing it didn’t mean the doubt disappeared. That sliver of fear still clung to your skin, lingering where it wasn’t wanted.

Healing wasn’t neat though, it was never going to be a straight line. It didn’t wrap itself up in a single conversation, even one filled with so much love. Sometimes it still whispered in your ear, still urged you to shrink, still made you want to hide when the light felt too bright.

So you found yourself here, standing in front of the mirror, in front of the man who had just spoken love into every hollow space in your chest, and that part of you still wanted to make yourself smaller, to hide away from your reflection.

Your fingers twitched like they had a mind of their own, lifting your sleeves to your face. You wanted to fix yourself, smooth your hair, swipe away the streaks, anything to make yourself look less of a mess in front of him.

You shifted, instinctively turning away from the mirror, until his hands landed on your shoulders.

His voice broke through the thought before you could take a step, commanding enough to root you where you stood. “Don’t look away.”

You let out a shaky breath, your lungs dragging unevenly as your shoulders lifted beneath the thin straps of your tank. His thumbs moved over your skin, gently massaging the tension away.

“I look like a mess,” you let out a low laugh through your breath, the words barely holding shape, as though admitting it out loud might make you disappear entirely.

“You don’t.” There was quiet conviction in Lewis’ tone, as if he was stating a fact rather than offering comfort.

His hand moved slowly, fingertips grazing your skin with such care it made your stomach flutter. He traced the edge of your cheekbone, the pad of his thumb wiping just beneath your damp lashes as though he could soothe what they’d carried away. The warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the air threading between you, anchoring you to where you stood.

“Just breathe.” He leaned in until the solid heat of his chest touched your back.

You felt him everywhere at once, the faintest tickle of his shirt against your shoulder blade, his steady exhale warming the crown of your head, the calm rhythm of his heartbeat pressed close enough to reach you through the silence. His cologne lingered between you, that familiar woody scent that always brought you comfort. You breathed it in carefully, letting it flow into your lungs until it drowned out everything else.

Then, softer than a sigh, his lips kissed your temple in the lightest movement.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against your skin.

The words melted through you like sunlight on cold stone, spreading warmth into places you hadn’t realised had gone numb. Your lashes fluttered, eyes sliding shut as you held the sound of them close, terrified it might dissolve if you moved.

“Do you know what the first thing I noticed about you was when we met?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, his breath grazing your hairline.

You shook your head faintly, afraid that if you tried to speak, your voice would break under the weight of it all.

“Your eyes.”

Lewis’ reflection softened, his features shifting beneath the muted lamplight, as though he was seeing the memory of you overlaid across time.

“They were so stunning, I couldn’t stop looking at you.” A faint curve tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The way they shined in the light when you looked at me…I think I knew then I wanted you to be mine.”

He tilted his head with a chuckle, his attention fixed on you in a way that made the air between you feel denser.

“You didn’t look at me like I was just some famous face,” he continued, his eyes locking with yours in the reflection. “You weren’t trying to figure out what you could take or use, you didn’t see me as an opportunity. You just saw me.”

The moment flashed in your mind; the crowded room, all the unfamiliar eyes around you, and then his, warm, kind, with that impossible pull, even before you understood what it was. The mirror blurred faintly as fresh tears welled, the lamplight catching on their edges. You swallowed hard, trying to keep them at bay, but your chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

His hand shifted lower, fingertips tracing the curve of your lips delicately, as though memorising them all over again, sending a shiver spiralling down your spine.

“And your lips,” he breathed, the confession almost hesitant, as if it had been waiting years to be spoken. “Do you have any idea how long I wanted to kiss you before I finally did?”

Your inhale fractured unevenly, your ribs straining around the shallow breath.

“And when I did…” He paused, his fingers slipping down your chin. For a moment, it felt like the world narrowed to just his voice, your heartbeat, and the memory of that first kiss echoing here between you. “I knew I’d never stop wanting you.”

His hand lifted again, brushing lightly across the bridge of your nose, before his thumb tilted your chin towards him.

“I love it when you do this with your nose,” he murmured fondly, leaning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Drives me crazy.”

A breathless giggle slipped from your lips, drawing a smile across his face. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, before returning his eyes to the mirror and letting his chin rest along your temple.

Then, his fingers found your hair, tucking it carefully behind your ears, letting the pads of his fingertips graze the delicate curve there.

“I love these too, even when you try to hide them with your hair,” he grinned, his voice softer, almost teasing, but threaded with an affection so deep you felt your heart melt all over again.

The mirror caught the faint tremor of your hands where they rested at your sides. Behind you, Lewis’ reflection filled the space, his fit, solid frame, the heat of his skin soaking into your back, and the soft sound of his breath.

His palms drifted down the length of your arms, gingerly tracing the shape of you. His fingertips followed the dip of your elbow, then the curve of your waist, anchoring there without pressure.

“I know you’ve struggled with this,” his voice slipped low, intimate, leaning in until his breath grazed the sensitive edge just behind your ear. “But I need you to hear me,” he breathed, leaning closer until his voice brushed your ear. “I love your body, every inch of it. The way you feel in my hands, how you fit against me like…you were made for me.”

The confession sank into your bones, filling the spaces you hadn’t realised were still hollow, while your heart fluttered as he continued.

His thumbs pressed gently into the side of your waist. “I think you forget who you are sometimes,” he murmured, his thumbs pressing lightly into your waist. “You don’t even see it…how you change a room just by being in it. How you make people feel like they matter.”

Your lashes grew damp as you tried to hold yourself together, but the tears slipped free anyway in warm trails down your cheeks.

“You spend so much time making everyone else feel beautiful,” his reflection moved with yours as he leaned in, brushing the faintest ghost of a kiss against your temple, “that somehow you forget how to see it in yourself.”

The glass blurred faintly, streaked by the salty tears gathering in your eyes, until you had to focus on the faint rise and fall of Lewis’ chest behind you, allowing him to be your gravity.

“You’ve always reminded me who I am, even through my darkest times.” His eyes in the reflection locked wholly on you. “Now it’s my turn. You have to remember who you are too.”

Your vision wavered, pulling up flashes you didn’t mean to summon, his forehead pressed to yours in that hotel room, your fingers laced together when you reminded him who he was after he was disqualified from the race. The memory slipped away, but the ache of it stayed.

“Do you know my favourite thing about you though?” He hesitated, just long enough to make you feel it. “It’s seeing you in your element. When you’re laughing with your friends, telling stories with your hands…you just light up, and everyone around you does too. You don’t even know how loved you are.”

The sweetness of his words pressed into your heart, leaving your throat tight, your breath catching unevenly. Behind you, Lewis’ hand swept a loose strand of hair from your cheek and over your ear, fingertips grazing the delicate curve as though reluctant to leave.

“If it all gets loud again,” his lips brushed your ear as though he was speaking directly to the part of you that always hides, “I want you to remember this. It’s just you and me, nothing else matters.”

You gave a small nod as your eyes caught his in the mirror. The lamplight curved across his deep brown irises, and in their dark gloss you caught the faint reflection of yourself, held so gently in his eyes, with so much love, your heart swelled, unable to contain it. For the first time, you let yourself see what he saw. You saw yourself through the eyes that you loved most in the world, and they reflected that love right back at you.

Slowly, as if gravity had shifted and there was nothing else to do, you turned to face Lewis fully. He was so achingly beautiful it stole your breath away, for everything he was, and everything he’d been to you. You felt it in your bones, how lucky you were to love him, how much you wanted him to know.

So before he could speak, you leaned in carefully, drawn to him like breath to air, and the moment your lips found his, the world seemed to stop spinning around you. His mouth was warm and edged with the ache of days spent without your affection. Every bit of distance between you dissolved into that single, endless touch. It was like the first breath when you finally surfaced from being underwater for so long, the tension unravelling from your chest in a soft, trembling rush.

His hand slid to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, while his other arm anchored firmly around your waist, pulling you into him like he couldn’t stand another inch of him not touching you, and rewriting every lingering doubt into certainty.

You poured yourself into him, letting your love spill unspoken into the press of your lips, grateful for the second chance that had almost slipped away. Your fingers slid in between his braids, nails grazing lightly against his scalp, holding him there like you needed him to know without words how much he was yours, and how much you were his.

Lewis deepened the kiss slowly, carefully, like he was savouring every bit of you, relearning you. A low sound escaped him, barely audible but vibrating where his chest pressed to yours, and you felt it everywhere. When your mouths hesitantly broke apart, your breaths tangled softly in the space between you, foreheads resting together as though neither of you was ready to let go. His hand cradled your cheek, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch like you’d been starved for it.

“I didn’t know how much I needed that,” you whispered, placing your palm over his hand.

“Don’t ever compare yourself to the past, because you are my future.” He pressed the softest kiss to your forehead, lingering there as though sealing the thought into place. “And I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, your heart swelling with love, and kissed him again softly, once…then again, slower, deeper, neither of you wanting to break the moment. When you drew apart eventually, Lewis gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and without a word, he laced his fingers with yours and quietly led you toward the bed.

The soft spill of moonlight kissed the sheets in silver as you climbed beneath them together, the linen cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the lingering heat of his hand still wrapped around yours.

You shifted closer, facing him fully, your knees brushing beneath the sheets. He mirrored you without hesitation, his arm curling around to your back, the other reaching to trail the backs of his fingers along your cheek, as though he still couldn’t believe you were here, that you’d come back to him.

In the muted light, his skin caught a soft sheen, shadows carving the familiar lines of his face. You traced every detail with your eyes, the faint arch of his brows, the sweep of his long eyelashes, the shape of his mouth you’d kissed a thousand times but still wanted like air. He was so close you could almost see the lines of chocolate brown threaded through his irises, and feel the pull of his breath brushing warm against your skin.

“I missed you.” His murmur was low, as if the words had been waiting at the tip of his tongue.

You reached up instinctively, your palm cupping his cheek, your thumb sweeping lightly over the faint stubble there. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice almost swallowed by the space between you.

Lewis leaned in then, and the kiss he gave you was so gentle it made you melt completely into him. A tender press of lips that deepened only when you sighed softly against his mouth, letting him draw you closer until there was no space left to mourn. It wasn’t urgent this time, just full of relief, like rediscovering a language only the two of you spoke. His hand slipped to cradle the nape of your neck, his thumb stroking slow, soothing circles into your skin.

He broke the kiss only barely, his breath fanning warm against your lips, and before you could speak, his words found you with a delicate whisper of your name.

“I love you.”

It stole the air from your lungs. You looked into his eyes, finding every piece of him laid bare in the low light. The confession wasn’t rushed, or loud, or a bandage to the pain you’d both been carrying the last few days, it simply was. He was telling you because he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Your hand slid from his cheek to the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” you breathed, but it felt smaller than what you meant, too small to hold the weight of what you felt for him.

His forehead tipped to yours, and you stayed there, breathing the same air, lips ghosting close enough to brush but not pressing, as if neither of you could quite bear the thought of breaking the tender magic hovering around you. Every touch felt heightened, the trickle of his fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the heat of his skin beneath your palms as you slid your hand beneath his shirt, feeling the calming rhythm of his heart beneath your touch.

There were no more words after that, no need for them. The silence wasn’t empty now; it thrummed with everything you’d both been too afraid to say until this moment. Eventually, you kissed him again, just a breath between lips, and then again, until the rhythm of it slowed.

He drew you closer still, his arm slipping around your waist, keeping you flush against him. You tangled your legs with his beneath the sheets, noses brushing, mouths grazing in fleeting touches neither of you could quite give up. You breathed each other in, melting completely into each other as your hearts reconnected.

When your eyes finally grew heavy, and exhaustion tugged down your limbs, you felt him still watching you. His eyes stayed on you, trailing over your face as if he still couldn’t believe you were his to keep.

Morning came slowly, with golden sunlight pouring through the curtains, catching the edge of tangled sheets and the soft sheen of skin. Outside, waves broke faintly against the shore, birds calling in the distance, but in here, the air was suspended, time itself pausing itself for the two of you alone.

You moved with Lewis in a smooth rhythm, straddling his hips, with your palms braced lightly against his abdomen. His hands rested at your thighs, fingertips flexing as though testing if you were real. You weren’t used to holding the reins like this. You’d done it before, climbed onto his lap, ridden him slow, let your hands explore and given him every part of you, but always with a small flicker of shyness under the surface.

But now, you felt different. You felt powerful, divine even.

That feeling bloomed inside you with every breath, every look he gave you, every sound that rumbled in his throat when you moved your hips just right. His grip tightened on your thighs, his eyes sparkling as though you were some goddess risen from the stars to take your place above him. It sent a fire spiraling through you, made you arch your back slightly, and slow your movements to savour the way his body reacted to yours.

Lewis in this light was something unreal. His chest rose sharply beneath your palm, the ink of the compass etched into his skin flexing with the movement, his tattoos a map you’d traced a hundred times, but never with this kind of power over him. His braids were loosened from their usual bun, one brushing against his temple where it had fallen loose. His full, defined lips were parted in an attempt to catch his breath. You resisted the urge to reach out and fix that stray braid, too captivated by the sight of him like this, completely undone beneath you, every inch of him yours.

“Look at you,” he shook his head slightly, eyes still locked onto you as though he couldn’t bear to blink and miss a moment. “So fucking perfect.”

You felt his words deeper than you expected, sinking between your ribs, leaving your breath catching as heat pooled low in your chest. His tone was filled with devotion. He was seeing all of you, flushed, messy, still healing, and loving you harder for it.

A low, aching groan escaped him, his head tipping back against the pillow, his braids splayed on the fabric.

“All mine,” he rasped, the words pulled straight from his chest.

Your breath trembled, but you didn’t shy away. You leaned forward, fingers sliding up to curl along the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his face up to yours with confidence. His brown eyes were dark, and so full of want it made the heat stir further in your stomach.

“And you’re mine,” you whispered, your thumb tracing along his facial hair as your hips rolled slowly.

His breath stuttered ever so slightly, a small whimper escaping him as if he’d just been undone entirely by the sound of those words on your lips. His hand slid up your side, tracing over your ribs and thumbing over your nipple. Then, his thumb brushed along the curve of your cheek before dipping lower, catching the soft skin of your bottom lip.

He traced its outline gently, before pressing just enough for you to part your lips instinctively. Without breaking his gaze, you wrapped them softly around his thumb for a fleeting moment, tasting the salt of his skin, as his low, broken curse spilled into the quiet.

“Fuck, baby…”

You released him with a slow exhale, kissing the pad of his thumb as you let your hand slide down to the inked compass on his skin. His chest rose sharply beneath your palm as you ground onto him, his hard length filling you even further while your clit rubbed against his pelvis, sending a shudder through your body.

The mirror in the corner caught a shard of sunlight and, angled just right, held your reflection in its frame. You saw yourself there, bathed in gold, moving above him with slow, steady control, his hands clinging to you with devotion. You saw the adoration in his touch, the way his eyes glazed with every bit of love he’d held for you.

Everything about you felt different from the person you had been in front of the mirror last night. Your cheeks were flushed, hair tousled, lips reddened. Your chest bounced with you as you moved, and your skin glowed in the light.

You felt beautiful, powerful.

You lowered yourself to meet his lips hungrily, pouring every word you couldn’t hold back into the press of your mouth against his. Between shallow breaths and stuttered movements, you whispered it against his lips, desperate, raw.

“I love you,” you breathed, kissing him harder. “I love you, Lewis. I love you so much.”

A soft, wrecked sound tore from him, one hand cradling your face now like you were the most precious thing he had ever held. “I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered back, before slipping his tongue through your lips to taste your mouth.

You knotted your fingers between his braids, keeping yourself steady against his chest with your other hand so you could continue riding him. His palm gripped at your ass while you pressed your hips down onto him, sliding him in and out of your slick folds. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body, through every nerve ending when he hit your walls.

Lewis’ hips pushed up to meet your own, and a silky, involuntary sound slipped from your throat. Your thighs trembled faintly, faltering as he drove deeper into you, your hand feeling the wild rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. He sat up slightly, wrapping an arm fully around your waist, pressing his lips to the slope of your collarbone before dragging them up along your throat.

“Baby-I…” You trailed off, your voice weak as the built up heat between your legs grew stronger, squeezing around him while you neared your peak.

“I know, baby,” he murmured against your skin, voice frayed at the edges. “You’re so close…I can feel you.”

He quickly brought his thumb down to swirl over your clit in the tiny space between you, sending shockwaves of bliss through your nerves and heightening the pleasure as your hips stuttered against his.

“That’s it, my love,” he encouraged you softly, his words blazing like fire along your spine. “Taking me so good.”

You buried your face in the curve of his neck, clinging to him as your body trembled and you clamped down over him, a weakened whimper catching in your throat as the rhythm broke beneath you. The ecstasy rolled in waves, consuming you entirely, leaving you gasping his name as the sensations pulsed through your body.

The sound pushed him over the edge completely. Maybe it was the way you said his name, or how you tightened around him, or maybe it was the way you clung to him like he was the only thing that mattered on this earth, but that calm control inside him shattered.

A low, broken groan tore from his chest as he followed you over the edge, throbbing deep inside you and spilling over. He breathed your name against your mouth, again and again, like he needed to taste it, feel it, make it real.

Then, only the sound of your breaths filled the room. The faint thrum of his heart slowing beneath your palm where it rested against his chest. You felt every thud, every aftershock reverberate through him as if your bodies hadn’t yet remembered where one ended and the other began. You stayed there, tangled and trembling, foreheads pressed together, his thumb tracing soft, grounding circles against your skin.

The sunlight shifted, warming across your shoulders in glittering gold, and for a long, suspended moment, you thought, this must be what it feels like to be loved completely.

Lewis tipped his head back slightly, catching your eyes, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, catching gold in the glow of the room. HIs braids were messy from where you’d tangled your fingers earlier, hanging low against his temples. His luscious lips were parted, still swollen from your kisses, and his tattoos glistened with each slow breath, ink shifting over lean muscle.

His fingers trailed up to your chin, nudging it towards him and bringing your mouth to his, while his other hand continued to draw shapes on your skin like he needed the reassurance of touching you.

“My baby,” he breathed, his voice hoarse and slightly frayed. His eyes raked over your face, drinking you in with awe, before meeting your eyes again.

You smiled faintly, and took his hand in yours. Carefully, you laced your fingers with his and brought them to your lips, pressing small kisses over the L and O inked into his skin, before turning his hand slightly to press another kiss to the planets near his knuckle, where the faint lines of his other tattoos curved against your mouth.

He curled his arm tightly around your waist and pulled you closer into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You felt the warmth of his lips against your skin, the softness of his breath as his fingertips traced up and down your spine soothingly.

Time seemed to slow, the stillness between you was tender, filled with the pulse of your shared breath and the muted rush of nature beyond the windows. He toyed absently with strands of your hair, and you let your fingertips follow the curves of his tattoos, drawing over the lines inked across his skin.

Lewis was still inside you, softening in the sensitivity between your legs and coated in both of your juices from the intensity that had passed between you. His lips brushed against your cheekbone before finding your ear, his voice low, rough, and threaded with a warmth that sent a shiver down your skin.

“Stay here with me,” he whispered, letting his hand cup your ass with a squeeze. “I wanna keep you right here…all morning.”

Your lips curved softly as you tilted your forehead against his, letting your lashes graze his skin. “I don’t wanna move,” you smiled, your words melting into his.

“Good,” he chuckled lightly as he turned to the side, carefully laying you against the pillow and dipping towards your throat, where his lips met your skin again. “’cause I wasn’t planning on letting you outta this bed today anyway.”

As the sun shifted, you lay there with him for what felt like hours, legs tangled beneath the linen, unable to take your eyes off each other. He kissed you intermittently, as though he couldn’t help himself, on your shoulders, your hairline, your chest, between your legs. You drifted in and out of quiet conversation, cocooned in the kind of peace that made the world beyond the four walls of this room feel like a far off memory.

Eventually, when the sun reached its highest point and shadows began to soften, you’d forced yourselves to rise, limbs loose, and your body tingling with the memory of his hands. There was a lazy brunch on the terrace, shared laughter with Alex and Isabella as Lewis disappeared briefly to join the boys. Even now, the heat of the day warmed your skin, the salty breeze curling around you like a lover’s breath.

You’d changed into something more appropriate to lounge by the pool, the scent of vanilla and coconut clinging to your skin as you stretched out on the sun-warmed lounger. Beside you, Alex had claimed the shadiest spot, sunglasses sitting delicately on her nose as she scrolled quietly through her phone, her drink untouched on the table beside her. Isabella, by contrast, was sprawled across the next chair like a Roman empress, one leg draped lazily over the armrest and her glass already half-empty.

The lavender planters around the pool buzzed quietly with a bee floating around, while cicadas droned somewhere in the distance, and the soft gurgle of the filter mingled with the low clink of melting ice in half-finished glasses. The bushes along the walls swayed gently in the breeze, carrying with it the scent of citrus and sunscreen.

Somewhere beyond the sounds of summer, the bass of the speaker thrummed low, layered with the dull thud of weights hitting stone. The boys had already set up by the pool’s edge, mid-workout beneath the glaring sun.

Miles was fiddling with the volume between sets, Charles was stretching in the sunlight, and Lewis…

Lewis was lifting, looking like temptation incarnate.

He stood a little apart from the others, barefoot on the warm stone, sweat gliding in slow beads down the lines of his chest and catching in the dip of his collarbone. His braids were pulled back loosely, his baby hairs clinging damp against his temple, and every flex of his arms as he curled the weights sent a ripple of muscle across his shoulders.

You were supposed to be relaxing, you really were. Instead, your eyes tracked him like gravity, shamelessly trailing over the glistening ink on his skin, and the flex of his biceps. Your lips closed around your straw, pretending to sip, but your mouth had gone dry, heat pooling low in your stomach as you swallowed.

All you could think about was that morning. The way those hands gripping the weights now had been on you, pinning your hips, as he drove into you. That fucking smirk on his mouth, the same one he’d worn when you’d been breathless above him.

You pressed your thighs together subtly, shifting deeper into the lounger, hoping no one noticed.

“Ten bucks says Miles starts grunting within the first two minutes,” Isabella murmured without opening her eyes, toes grazing the surface of her lounger as she leaned back against it.

Alex smiled faintly, placing her phone on the table beside her. “Is it really that bad?”

Right on cue, Miles let out a guttural noise loud enough to make Isabella groan.

“Disgusting,” she muttered, tipping her sunglasses down to peek over the rim.

“Surely it’s not that disgusting in bed for you though,” you giggled behind your straw at the sound.

Alex choked on a laugh under her hand, while Isabella whipped her sunglasses down to glare at you, scandalised. “Hey!” Her mouth twitched though, fighting a smile.

Miles let out another grunt that ripped through the heat like a foghorn, startling a bee off one of the lavender planters.

“Oh, my God,” Isabella sighed from her lounger, shaking her head. “It’s a workout, not a mating call.”

You hummed with another laugh, still watching Lewis from the corner of your eye, rolling your lips together and taking another sip.

Isabella tracked your gaze, and smirked like a cat who’d caught a secret.

“Well,” she drawled, stretching like she had all the time in the world, “looks like Mummy and Daddy have finally kissed and made up, hm?”

“Don’t start,” you warned, the warmth flushing at your cheeks instantly.

“Hey, I’m just relieved I no longer have to be a child of divorce,” she shrugged, swirling her drink. “Don’t you ever put your favourite child through that again though.”

“Favourite child?” Lewis called, lowering the weights in his hands mid-set as he squinted at her. “Roscoe would disagree.”

“Roscoe’s a dog, fur babies don’t count!” Isabella shot back instantly.

“And Luna,” you added from your lounger without missing a beat, laying a hand on your heart. “Don’t forget our baby girl.”

Lewis nodded in solemn agreement, lips quirking into a grin. “Exactly. Our daughter comes first.”

Isabella’s jaw dropped, scandalised once more. “Your daughter? She’s a puppy!”

“Which technically makes you third, sorry babe,” you laughed with a quick shrug, tilting your head towards her.

She gasped, clutching her chest like you’d personally betrayed her. “Unbelievable.”

Laughter spilled easily between you, leaving your cheeks sore as the teasing continued. Isabella was still pretending to sulk beneath her sunglasses, while Alex shared some photos she’d been collecting for a summer dump.

Across the pool, the boys were winding down their workout, weights clinking as Miles called out something about hydration that Lewis ignored entirely. Charles groaned theatrically about needing a nap.

You were still half-smiling when Lewis started heading your way, towel slung over one shoulder, chest glistening beneath the rays of sunlight. You didn’t bother pretending anymore. Your sunglasses might’ve hidden your eyes, but the way your straw stilled at your lips gave you away. Every inch of him glimmered in the late-afternoon heat, shoulders loose, tattoos stark against glistening skin, veins shifting with each easy flex of muscle. God, he was unfairly beautiful.

“Damn,” you called out teasingly as he approached.

Lewis paused mid-step, mouth curling into that slow, knowing smirk that always made your heart race and heat pool in your belly. You reached out lazily, fingers brushing his until he caught your hand, his palm still warm from the weights.

“That for me, baby?” his voice came low, deep enough to curl beneath your skin.

You tipped your head back against the lounger, smiling up at him from under the shadow of your sunglasses with a hum.

The corner of his mouth lifted higher, and he leaned down without hesitation, catching your lips in a soft, deliberate kiss, slow enough to make your breath hitch, smug enough to know exactly what he was doing.

Until, a single bead of sweat slipped from his temple, trailing down the curve of his jaw before landing right on your collarbone.

You gasped, recoiling instantly with a squeak. “Ew!”

Lewis leaned further down, towel slipping slightly against his neck, his shadow falling over you. The sunlight caught on the fine sheen of sweat at his temple, and his mouth curved, faintly smug, like he already knew exactly what he was doing to you. Before you could come up with a single excuse, his hand slid from yours to your waist. Suddenly, you found yourself in the air, squealing as he hoisted you over his sweaty shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Lewis!” You gasped, laughter bubbling out before you could stop it.

His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, slick with sweat and the woody scent of his cologne still clinging beneath it. The low rumble of his laugh vibrated through his back, as if he was taking far too much pleasure in your helpless squirming.

“Pretty sure we’ve still got more makeup sex to catch up on,” he called out over his shoulder smugly as he strode towards the doors.

Isabella slapped a hand over her face, groaning loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I take it all back. I preferred the divorce.”

You hid your face against Lewis’ back, your giggles muffled against his warm, damp skin. “Lew, now they’re gonna know.”

He didn’t slow, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he carried you inside, entirely unbothered, as your breathless laughs spilling into the shaded coolness of the villa hallway. The sudden drop in temperature kissed your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms.

“Don’t act brand new.” He swatted lightly at your ass. “You were begging for it this morning.”

“Lewis!”

He chuckled as he finally eased you down onto the polished tiles, but before you could put even a sliver of distance between you, his hand slid around your waist, tugging you against the solid heat of his chest. Your laughs stumbled into a shaky inhale as he leaned down, the towel slung around his neck brushing softly against your collarbone.

His head dipped, lips brushing just beneath your ear, his breath hot and uneven from the workout. “You trying to start something out there, hmm?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a shiver slipping down your spine as his nose skimmed the curve of your jaw, his mouth grazing the soft skin beneath your ear. “Lewis-”

“All morning,” he whispered against your skin, his words a half-groan, half-confession, “and it’s still not enough.”

Lewis pressed a slow, deliberate kiss beneath your jaw, his warm breath trickling along your skin. Your fingers pressed instinctively onto his damp chest, only wanting to be closer despite the slickness of his sweating. The air between thickened, charged with heat while your pulse drummed in your ears.

“Shower,” you managed, breathless, tilting your chin just enough to catch his eye. “Now.”

His smirk was instantaneous, a quiet groan slipping free as his hand found yours. “Say less.”

Before you could blink, he was tugging you down the hallway. Between hurried steps, stolen kisses caught the edge of your breath, laughter ringing quietly between each one until you disappeared into the ensuite together, the thud of the door closing swallowed quickly by the hiss of the shower a heartbeat later.

Later, when the steam had faded and the villa had fallen quiet around you, you sat behind him on the bed, your thighs bracketing his hips as your fingertips worked warm oil slowly into his scalp. Lewis sat with his back against your chest, his braids falling loose beneath your touch as you moved carefully, massaging small, deliberate circles with your thumbs between sections of his braids. Every so often, his breath would leave him in a low, contented sigh, his shoulders melting further beneath your hands.

“That’s heaven,” he murmured eventually, voice thick with quiet bliss, his head tipping back ever so slightly against you.

A smile curved at your lips as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple, letting your fingers drift lazily through his braids. The silence was comforting, filled only with the movement of your hands, the soft rhythm of his breath, and the sense that this was one of those small, ordinary moments you’d want to remember forever.

The days that followed unfolded slowly, like honey spilling from a spoon, easygoing and golden.

Mornings began in tangled sheets, the welcome weight of Lewis’ arm slung across your waist, his breath warm where it ghosted along the slope of your neck. You’d drift in and out of half-sleep to the lazy press of his lips against your shoulder, his low, rasped “Morning, beautiful” melting into your skin.

Breakfasts blended into late mornings on the terrace, bare feet brushing beneath the table as you traded sips from the same mug, sharing memories with your friends together. There were no deadlines here, no noise, just a soft exhale of time stretching wider than you remembered it could.

Afternoons slipped by in sunlit fragments, hours by the pool with Alex and Isabella sprawled across loungers like queens, cool drinks sweating in the heat while Miles attempted increasingly elaborate dives to impress an audience that pretended not to watch. Sometimes you’d disappear inside with Lewis, drawn beneath the steam of shared showers where his hands mapped your skin, and the world blurred into nothing but heat, and the taste of his mouth.

Other times, you wandered together through the quiet town nearby, hand in hand, past worn stone walls and flower boxes spilling over with blush-pink blooms. He’d insist on carrying the bags from the little market stalls, brushing his thumb over your knuckles absently as you strolled beneath the lazy afternoon sun.

Evenings held their own kind of magic. Some ended tucked against his side on the balcony, watching the stars crawl slowly into focus while the villa below buzzed softly with laughter and distant music. Others stretched beneath strings of lights where friends gathered around candlelit tables, glasses clinking and conversations threading through the salt-sweet air.

One afternoon, the villa crew decided on a ceramic-painting workshop Alex had found in town.

The studio was cozy, shelves stacked high with mugs, plates, and bowls waiting to be claimed. Isabella immediately declared she’d be painting lemons, while Alex went chic and minimalist, painting muted tones. You reached for a bowl and decided on pastel flowers all around the rim.

Lewis picked up a plate and decided he would attempt to paint Roscoe and Luna. You watched him work for a moment, your lips curling into a small smile as his brush dragged carefully across the ceramic, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was so precise, so intentional with every stroke…but painting, you realised quickly, was definitely not one of his many talents.

Miles leaned over just long enough to glance at his plate before snorting loud enough to turn heads. “Why do they look like two potatoes with legs?”

Charles choked on his drink, while Alex gave a sympathetic look. Isabella was too locked into her lemons to notice, flicking her brush upwards to complete the leaf she was working on.

Lewis didn’t look up immediately, finishing the careful curve of Luna’s tail before setting the brush down with deliberate slowness. Then he turned just enough to glance at Miles’ plate, a chaotic swirl of mismatched colours and lopsided shapes.

“Yeah? Fuck’s that supposed to be then?” He snickered, gesturing towards Miles’ plate.

Miles insisted his painting was just abstract, and the group bickered softly about who’s dish was the best. Beneath the table, Lewis’ hand brushed lightly against your thigh, fingertips tracing idly while his gaze remained fixed on his plate. You didn’t need to look up to know he was smiling.

Later that week, you stayed in for a movie marathon, the projector humming softly as it cast shifting light against the wall. Pillows and blankets were scattered across the room, and all lights were switched off for the authentic cinema experience.

You curled beneath Lewis’ arm, legs tangled easily together, your drink balanced on his thigh as his thumb trailed up and down your shoulder. Isabella emerged from the kitchen with a dramatic flourish, holding an overflowing bowl of popcorn and bags of snacks like crown jewels.

Halfway through the second film, movement at the edge of your vision pulled your attention across the room. On the opposite sofa, Isabella was holding out a small handful of popcorn, her other hand resting casually on Miles’ thigh. He leaned in without hesitation, eating straight from her palm messily, then pressed an unthinking kiss to her cheek, tugging her closer under his arm.

Your lips twitched, suppressing a grin, as you nudged Lewis gently with your knee.

He followed your gaze, one brow lifting as his mouth curved into the faintest smirk.

“Told you,” you whispered, keeping your tone light as you sipped your drink, trying and failing to hide how secretly delighted you were.

The highlight of the week came with a family-and-friends day out on the boat.

The sea stretched endlessly beneath the sun in a glassy sapphire, glittering at the surface where it met the light. You spent the morning running around with Willow, hiding from Lewis and Kaiden, who had declared war with small water guns, and sneakily catching them with squirts to the back, laughter ringing throughout until your cheeks hurt.

Later, you perched on the bow with Lewis’ sisters, swapping stories and freshly cut fruits beneath the breeze, while Carmen watched from the shade, laughing as Lewis coaxed his niece and nephew into the shallows. He let them clamber onto his back, wading carefully while they shrieked with delight, Kaiden splashing alongside them until everyone was soaked, cheeks flushed from the sun and breathless with joy.

At one point, Carmen teased Lewis gently, asking when he planned to “settle down and give her more babies to spoil.”

Your gaze found his across the deck before you could help it. The faintest, secretive smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, fleeting, yet deliberate, before he turned back to Willow, smoothing her blonde hair beneath her sunhat with a tenderness that made your heart melt. That look stayed with you, tucked quietly beneath your ribs long after.

Meanwhile, Isabella spent the afternoon “sunbathing undisturbed,” which naturally ended the second Miles decided she needed “refreshing.” Within minutes, she was shrieking as he splashed her relentlessly, threatening to throw him overboard between peals of laughter. Charles, of course, cheered Miles on like it was a sporting event, while Alex documented every second, her phone catching sun flares in the corner of every frame.

By the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon, staining the sky in soft ribbons of rose and gold, the day had left everyone sun‑kissed and pleasantly drowsy. The boat ride ingrained itself into your core memories, the salt drying on your lips, the sweetness of Willow’s laughter threaded through the edges of memory, the weightlessness that came from being cradled by sea and the people you loved.

Dinner was served on the terrace beneath strings of fairy lights, their warm glow catching in glasses scattered across the long table. A soft breeze lifted the scent of citrus from the gardens below, mingling with grilled herbs and the tang of sea air.

Carmen sat at one end, deep in conversation with Miles and Isabella, her laughter soft and effortless, while Charles and Alex bickered gently about which food was more appropriate for a jet lagged breakfast. Plates clinked faintly, wine pooled like rubies in crystal, and cutlery reflected off the lights above.

Willow had claimed the spot beside you, her hair still somewhat unruly from the sea. She leaned close until her breath brushed your shoulder, cupping her hands around her mouth like she was guarding state secrets.

“Should we get them from the balcony later?” she whispered conspiratorially, still plotting over the water gun fight, her eyes sparkling.

You bit back a laugh, lowering your glass to murmur back just as seriously. “Yes, brilliant strategy! I can fill them up when I go to the bathroom so they won’t know.”

Before she could reply, a familiar shadow stretched across the table, tattooed hands resting on both of your shoulders.

“What are my girls whispering about, hm?” Lewis asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Nothing,” you and Willow shrugged smoothly in unison.

Lewis arched an eyebrow, his mouth tugging into that slow, indulgent grin that made your stomach flip. Without another word, he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the crown of Willow’s head, before brushing his lips against your temple, his thumb tracing over the strap of your dress.

“So that's how it is?” he shook his head, and Willow dissolved into giggles, while you hid a smile behind your glass.

Lewis slid into the seat beside you and settled back, draping his arm along the back of your chair with absent ease, fingertips ghosting over your shoulder in quiet rhythm. Conversation flowed around you, Isabella convincing Miles to teach her poker, Carmen chatting to Alex who had complimented her earrings, Charles offering Kaiden tips on all things football, and Lewis’ sisters discussing their plans for the rest of the holidays. Laughter spun easily into the warm night air, the terrace glowing like a private little haven carved out from the rest of the world.

Through it all, Lewis’s hand found yours beneath the table. You felt his thumb trace lightly over your knuckles slowly, and turned to face him, only to catch him already looking at you. Your heart swelled, achingly full at the look in his eyes, your lips curving into a smile, the soft kind you saved only for him.

He returned your smile with a barely-there curl of his mouth, and your heart whispered I love you in a language older than any words could say. You leaned slightly into him after that, letting the chatter of the table wash around you comfortingly.

For a moment, you let it all sink in, the warmth of this family around you, the way his eyes always seemed to find you, even when he was listening to someone else.

This was your life, your love.

For the first time in days, you felt it deep down in your heart, that you were loved, and you were safe.

By the time the plates were cleared and the last drops of wine sipped away, the group had begun to scatter into smaller pockets of chatter, the music low in the background.

You drifted naturally with Lewis toward your balcony, his hand resting lightly against the small of your back, guiding without thought. Behind you, voices dissolved into a muted blur, leaving only the rush of waves below and the faint rustle of trees swaying in the night breeze.

Lewis sank onto the cushioned seat, tugging you gently to sit between his legs until his chest curved against your back. One arm looped loosely around your waist, while the other toyed absently with your fingers. His thumb brushed over the rings you wore, tracing, turning, pausing, as though each one carried its own memory.

The shadows softened his profile when you turned your head, the lamplight from inside catching along his cheekbone and the relaxed set of his defined lips. His brown eyes were thoughtful, meeting your own when he noticed your turn.

“Can’t believe it’s almost over,” you spoke eventually, the words slipping out on a sigh you hadn’t meant to give voice to.

“I know,” he replied, his voice pitched low enough to dissolve into the quiet between you. “Feels like we only just got here.”

You tilted your head to glance back at him. “I’ll miss waking up like this. Here, with you.”

He met your gaze, and there was a tiny shift in his expression, one you might’ve missed if you hadn’t been studying his face already, the corners of his mouth softening, his eyes holding yours as though he was memorising you in this light.

“We’ll make more memories,” he said simply, a certainty threaded through his words. “Doesn’t have to end just because the holiday does.”

You let yourself picture it for a moment, more mornings tangled in sheets, more afternoons stained in sunlight, more summers carved out of time as though the rest of the world could wait.

“I guess I can’t complain too much,” you grinned, turning back toward the scattered stars along the dark sweep of the horizon. “I won’t be the one driving cars at three hundred kilometres an hour every weekend.”

Lewis’ low laugh curved against your neck, warm and intimate, sending a shiver trailing down your spine. He leaned closer, lips grazing your skin in the lightest touch as he teased, “You’d love it. I still need to take you for a lap one day.”

“I don’t think my heart would survive that,” you giggled, a smile ghosting across your mouth.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he assured you with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

You leaned back onto his shoulder and traced the curve of his tattooed hand with your thumb, watching the dark threads of his braids shift when the breeze stirred them. His fingers still circled one of your rings slowly, and the thought rose before you could stop it; whether he still planned to ask. Whether the fight had changed anything, or nothing at all.

You imagined, for the briefest moment, the press of his hand sliding another ring onto your finger, a promise of forever wrapped around your skin.

You shifted closer without thinking, tucking yourself deeper into the curve of him. His arm tightened instinctively around your waist, his chest rising against your back.

“At least we’ll be back to the dogs soon,” you spoke gently, breaking the reverie before it could swallow you whole. “I miss them.”

At that, his expression softened instantly, tension easing from his shoulders as his thumb brushed along the inside of your palm. “Me too. Bet they’re gonna lose their minds when we walk through that door.”

You smiled at the thought, picturing Luna’s tiny paws skittering across the tiles and Roscoe’s clumsy barrel into Lewis’ knees, that familiar chaos you adored.

“Our little family,” you sighed without meaning to, the words spilling somewhere between your thoughts.

Lewis stilled for just a fraction, his hand pausing where it rested over your waist. He turned into your hair, his lips brushed the curve of your temple where they lingered. “Yeah, our little family.”

The words threaded between you like a quiet tune, pulling you closer, until the rest of the night blurred into nothing but the sound of his breath, the weight of his hand on yours, and the feeling that, even with the holiday ending, something lasting had already begun.

The next day had been slower, with just the two of you heading out alone for the day to enjoy your alone time before the final day of the holiday.

Lewis had driven until the cobbled streets gave way to the coastline, and you found yourselves parked at the edge of a quiet beach where the sea rolled lazily beneath the endless horizon.

You sat sideways in the passenger seat, bare feet tucked beneath you, a small cup of gelato balanced carefully in your hand. Across the console, Lewis leaned back in his seat with one arm draped loosely over the steering wheel, his own half-eaten cup resting forgotten on the dashboard, where the last of it melted into slow, glossy swirls.

The windows were lowered, letting the salt-thick breeze wash through the car, sticky-sweet with the faint scent of citrus. Somewhere in the distance, seagulls called faintly above the muted rush of the tide.

It had been the kind of day that didn’t demand anything from you. Long, slow swims in the pool, lazy brunch on the terrace, wandering hand in hand through the markets where blush-pink flowers spilled from cracked clay pots, just the two of you enjoying every moment alone together.

Lewis reached over absently, stealing a spoonful of your gelato without asking.

You nudged his shoulder, feigning offense. “What happened to yours?”

“Yours tastes better,” he mumbled around the spoon, his mouth curving into a cheeky smile that made you roll your eyes even as you leaned into him.

You let your gaze drift out toward the dark line where sea met sky, the melting gelato tracing cool sweetness across your tongue.

Then, softly, Lewis broke the silence that had settled. “This feels familiar.”

You turned your head slightly, already knowing what he meant without asking.

“Melbourne.”

He nodded quietly as his eyes softened with memory. Sitting together in his car after the race, the city lights blurring through the windshield, gelato melting down your spoon as neither of you wanted the evening to end. The air had been different then before everything unfolded, before you knew just how far your hidden feelings would take you. Your heart tightened around the memory.

Lewis studied you for a moment, before his voice dropped, as if he was confessing to the fading light itself. “I can’t lie, I wanted to kiss you so bad that night.”

Your pulse tripped, the admission pulling you right back to Melbourne, to that stillness in his car, the ache of not knowing where you stood. The way you had watched him eat his own gelato and the way his lips moved around the spoon. You’d wanted it too. You drew in a slow breath, thumb brushing idly over the condensation beading your cup.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked softly, leaning back against the headrest.

Lewis hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to where the horizon burned gold before returning to you. “It didn’t feel like the right time. After what we talked about…you thought there was something going on with Raye, and you didn’t seem too happy with me.” He paused, thumb tracing absently over the seam of his pants. “I didn’t know if you wanted the same thing I did.”

You swallowed, feeling the echo of those early uncertainties between you, and shook your head. “I would’ve let you. I wanted you to as well.”

The tension in his expression eased, and you let the quiet stretch for a beat before tilting your head.

“I think…” you hesitated, glancing at him through your lashes, “maybe we should make up for lost time.”

The look he gave you then, gentle heat caught in dark brown, made your breath falter before you even felt his fingers tilt your chin towards him.

Lewis leaned in, and touched his lips to yours, moving slow enough to let you feel every thread of the moment you’d both almost had and nearly lost, stitching a piece of the past into place with one kiss. His thumb grazed beneath your cheekbone, his mouth warm and ever so gentle, as if it were the first time, the sweet taste of gelato shared on his lips.

“Better late than never,” he whispered when your lips parted, nudging your nose with his.

Your cheeks flushed as you traced the edge of his jaw with your fingertips, and for a moment, neither of you needed to say anything more, your hands finding each other and fingers threading together.

“Walk with me?” he asked casually, gesturing towards the beach where the sun was slowly moving lower past the horizon.

You nodded, exiting the car together and discarding the empty gelato cups in the bin behind you as the two of you wandered down the curve of the beach.

The world shifted into that golden wash that only comes just before the sun disappears, when everything seems wrapped in its light. The air was still warm, and the tide stretched endlessly across the sand, waves catching shards of reflected sunlight like scattered glass.

The rhythm of your footsteps fell in sync, soft thuds sinking into the sand. Every so often, Lewis’ upper arm brushed yours, and this thumb drew idle, absentminded patterns against the back of your hand, as though he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

In the distance, small boats drifted beneath the bleeding horizon, their white hulls glowing against the deepening rose of the sky. The fresh air mingled with the lingering sweetness of gelato still clinging to your lips. It all wove together into something cinematic, a kind of stillness you wanted to hold in your hands and keep forever.

Lewis tugged you closer, guiding you toward the shoreline where the surf licked at the sand in lazy arcs, foam crested like freshly popped champagne. He stood behind you, arms winding snug around your waist, the heat of his body sinking into your back as his chin found the curve of your shoulder.

Together, you stood there at the water’s edge, watching the sun glide lower, spilling amber and blush across the restless sea.

Lewis’ breath was steady at first, a soft, warm brush against your neck, syncing with the tide. His arms tightened fractionally around you, holding you closer. Until, just barely, you felt the rhythm change.

When he exhaled, you felt it ghost warm against your skin. It came out slower than before, deliberate, measured, like he was buying himself time. His mouth pressed delicately beneath your ear in a delicate, drawn out kiss.

His fingers flexed faintly where they rested around your waist, almost like he was weighing a heaviness in the quiet, and your body stilled in response, tuning itself instinctively to him. You could feel the shift in him before you saw it, that restless tension coiling beneath his otherwise calm frame.

You turned your head just slightly, catching his reflection in the glassy wash of wet sand beneath your feet, the amber-streaked light carving shadows into his sharp jaw, the furrow between his eyebrows subtle but there, his lips parted as though shaping words he couldn’t quite release.

Finally, he leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear so softly it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby…” He hesitated at first, swallowing quietly before he continued. “I wanna tell you something.”

The words landed like a ripple across still water, carrying more weight than their softness should’ve allowed.

You turned in his arms just enough to face him, your hands sliding lightly up his forearms where they circled your waist. The fading sunlight painted him in amber, catching on the curve of his cheekbone, in the glint of his long eyelashes, and his warm brown eyes as they sparkled.

He was watching you as if he was memorising you, and suddenly, your heart knew before your mind caught up.

“You know, for the last five…six years, my life’s been about one thing,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. “That eighth title. Every morning, every night, every sacrifice. I thought if I got there, if I finally had it, I’d feel…finished somehow. Whole.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling faintly against his forearm, sensing where this was leading but helpless against the swell building inside you.

“And I did,” he breathed, an almost disbelieving laugh breaking through. “For about five minutes.”

Your chest tightened, breath shallow, as his eyes flicked down, then back up, warm, searching, wide open.

“But standing there with that trophy,” he whispered, shaking his head slightly, “I realised that although I finally achieved that dream, I thought that was finally it, after all this time…but the whole way there, I wondered what other dream would there be left to chase.” His unwavering gaze burned into yours. “It was you.”

Your breath stuttered, heart skittering painfully against your ribs, struggling to keep your composure at his confession.

“Every circuit, every late night, every moment I wondered if I could keep going, it was you that pulled me through.” His voice cracked faintly, his throat working around the words. “And when we fought-” He stopped himself, jaw flexing tight before loosening again. “I thought I’d lost you for good this time.”

The ache inside you swelled, mirroring his own, your thumb stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I didn’t,” he continued, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “Somehow…you’re still here. Even back then when I didn’t deserve it, even when I let myself pull away at first because I was too scared to try this with you, to admit how much I already wanted you.”

Your vision blurred, tears catching the dying sunlight until it fractured, glimmering between you. Your hand rose without thought, pressing against his chest, feeling the strong, steady thrum of his heart beneath your palm.

“I’ve realised something since we came here,” he leaned closer until his forehead rested against yours. “I’d rather fight for you every single day, than wake up one more day without you in my life.”

Tears slipped free, soundless against your skin. You didn’t even try to stop them.

“I used to think that nothing scared me. Not the races, not the pressure, not the weight of the world always watching and waiting for me to fail.” He paused, his breath catching before he continued. “But then I almost lost you…and I realised the only thing I’m truly afraid of is a life where you’re not in it. None of this means anything if you’re not beside me.”

The wind shifted, carrying the cooling air between you, and you swore the whole world had stilled, listening.

“You are my peace,” he declared softly, “my home, my future. You’re the one thing I’ll never stop choosing. No matter how loud it gets, no matter how heavy it feels.” His lashes were damp now, catching shards of fading light, and his voice broke on the next words. “I love you. More than I’ve ever known how to say, and more than I thought was even possible.”

Your breath left you in a shudder, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders like he was the only thing anchoring you to this reality as your world tilted.

“You know what I’m going to ask you now, don’t you?”

The question snapped that tiny thread of composure you’d been hanging onto, and you let out a quiet, breathless laugh through your tears, nodding when your voice had abandoned you completely.

Then, slowly, Lewis’ arms loosened around you, before he sank to one knee in the sand.

The world blurred around you, as if time itself yielded to this one moment. The sky melted into shades of violet and rose, the tide whispering steadily at your feet. He looked up at you as though the entire universe began and ended right here, in this moment, between you and him.

“I’ve thought about this moment a hundred times,” he admitted, swallowing thickly. “How I wanted it to look, and what I wanted to say…but nothing I imagined even comes close to what I feel standing here with you now.”

His hand slid into his pocket and emerged with that same small box you’d found days before, but he didn’t open it yet. His eyes remained on you, as if the ring itself meant nothing without you looking back at him.

“You told me you didn’t know how to stand still sometimes and just feel the good parts,” he took a breath, to soothe the slight tremor in his voice. “So let me give you a life full of them. A life where you never have to question if you’re enough, because you already are, in every way I’ve ever needed, in ways I didn’t even know I needed until you.”

Finally, he opened the box.

Your chest tightened immediately, the world stilling around you. You’d seen it before, the ring glittering in soft sunlight that morning, a large, elegant diamond at the centre, shaped exactly how you’d always loved. Yet somehow, here, now, in his hands, it was even more beautiful than you’d remembered. Because this time, it wasn’t a secret hidden away in his jacket. It was his heart, laid bare.

It was a promise, one he’d been holding onto even when things felt broken, even when he didn’t know if you’d ever make it back to this place together. It caught the last breath of sunlight, glowing softly, luminous and breathtaking, like the love you had built together.

“I’m ready,” he whispered. “I want everything with you. Every day, every night. Every lifetime.”

His voice steadied, eyes locked on yours, burning with absolute certainty when he spoke your name.

“Will you marry me?”

The words fell softly into the evening, swallowed almost instantly by the sound of the tide rolling in. Yet, to you, they were deafening.

For a moment, the whole world froze in time, this moment sealing itself into your mind forever. The breeze softened, the waves slowed, and all that remained was him, Lewis, kneeling on the sand, the final blush of daylight catching in his braids and gilding his skin in honeyed light. He looked so beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful, in a way that made your heart ache with the deepest love, as if he’d been carved for this exact moment, as if the universe had been waiting for you to finally stand here with him.

Then, it hit you.

You felt your breath stutter, your hand coming up instinctively to your mouth as though to hold everything in. The love of your life, the man who had broken you open, and stitched you back together, was on one knee at the edge of the world, asking you to choose forever with him.

His beautiful brown eyes were glossy as they burned into yours, and there was nothing guarded anymore. Only a deep devotion, unshaken, laced with a faint sheen of vulnerability, a quiet plea you could feel without him saying a word. It completely undid you, the way he looked at you, as though you were every prayer he’d ever whispered into the silence, every answer he never thought he’d deserve.

The tears continued to stream, warm as they slid over your cheeks. The soft salt breeze tangled your hair, carrying the faint scent of the ocean and the warmth of him where he knelt, waiting for you to choose him.

Your knees gave before you even thought about it, the sand cool beneath your knees as you lowered yourself to him. Meeting him there felt instinctive, inevitable, like gravity had pulled you down into his orbit where you’d always belonged.

His breath caught faintly when you reached him, your faces level now, your hands trembling as you framed his face delicately. You could barely see him through the blur of your tears, blinking repeatedly to clear your vision, mirrored by the glassy shine in his own eyes.

“Lewis…” you breathed, his name leaving you on the softest exhale, torn with emotion.

A quiet, shaky laugh escaped him, his forehead lowering until it brushed against yours, his hand finding your waist as though he needed the reassurance that you were real, that this was happening.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word spilling out before you could hold it back. Then stronger, more certain. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Before the words had even settled into the air, his mouth found yours. It was almost hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe you’d said yes, like he needed to feel it to trust it was real. His lips moved against yours slowly, carrying the salt of both your tears and the weight of everything you’d endured to reach this moment.

When he finally drew back, his breath came uneven, shallow against your lips, his forehead lowering to rest against yours. His eyes stayed closed for a beat, eyelashes damp, his hands steadying at your waist while the tide whispered softly behind you.

The box was still cradled loosely in his palm, forgotten for a breathless second, until he slowly pulled back just enough to look at you, as though he wanted to memorise every detail of you, the shine of your tear‑streaked cheeks, the way your lips trembled, the slight hitch of your breath.

Carefully, his thumb brushed once along the edge of the ring box, before he reached for your hand. His fingers slid gently over yours, warm and slightly trembling, careful as though you might shatter beneath his touch, before he guided the ring onto your finger. The band was cool at first, sending a faint shiver up your arm, and you watched it glimmer in the final threads of light as it settled perfectly into place.

A breathtaking, glittering promise wrapped around your ring finger. The promise of a life together. Your future. Every day, every night. A promise that you were the one. A promise that you were more than enough. A promise of forever.

Lewis’ hand lingered over yours when it was done, his other palm resting against your knuckles as if unwilling to let go. He lowered his head again until your foreheads touched, his breath mixing with yours, and for a long moment, neither of you moved.

The world narrowed to the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the faint rasp of his breathing, and the air cooling against tear‑damp cheeks.

Then, he tilted your chin, guiding your face toward his with the gentlest pressure of his fingers. You felt the shift in him before you even registered the motion, the unspoken pull, the soft inevitability of it.

It feather‑light at first, his lips brushing against yours in tentative sweeps before pressing more fully, as though he was tasting every piece of the promise you’d just made to each other. His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears as though he could erase every ache that had led you here. The salt on your skin mixed with the sweetness of his breath, and the entire world seemed to dissolve, there was only him, only this.

You sank into him instinctively, your hands sliding into his braids, fingertips grazing the warmth of his scalp. He breathed out softly against your mouth, the sound weakened, almost desperate in its tenderness, as if he couldn’t fully believe you were his, that this was real.

The kiss carried it all, the tears, the forgiveness, the love you had fought tooth and nail to hold onto. It wasn’t just an answer. It was a vow.

When he finally drew back, he stayed close, his nose brushing yours, his breath shaky against your lips as he kissed you again intermittently. His chest brushed yours with every shallow inhale, and his hands eventually slipped down from your face to your waist, tugging you gently closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

You stayed there like that, suspended in the quiet, until the soft sound of your own laugh cracked the silence. It came out breathless, tangled somewhere between relief and disbelief.

“I didn’t…” You stopped, your voice breaking faintly as emotion rose too quickly to speak through. You tried again, quieter, your words brushing the air between you like a secret. “I didn’t think this was going to happen.”

Lewis leaned back just enough to see you, his lashes still damp, his eyes locking on yours with an intensity that stole what little breath you had left. Lights from the buildings along the hill illuminated his face, and he looked beautiful, wrecked, yet luminous all at once, as though this moment had completely undone him as much as it had you.

“Baby, I’ve been planning this for months,” he smiled, his voice low, husky, roughened by emotions. “No way I was ever letting you get away.”

Your throat tightened painfully, and another tear slipped free, warm against the cooling air. You let out a delicate chuckle that dissolved into a quieter, breathier sound, as you dropped your gaze to your hands, entwined tightly in his. You lifted your hand slightly, mesmerised, by the glittering of your ring, as if the entire sky had been captured inside that single diamond. The band rested snugly where it belonged, cool still against the warmth of your skin, but heavy with everything it symbolised.

“Shit,” you breathed, barely more than a whisper. “You’re really going to be my husband.”

Lewis’ quiet laugh rumbled low in his chest, and before you could blink, his hand slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him with a tenderness so absolute, your heart ached. He pressed a lingering kiss into your temple, his lips soft and warm against your skin, and you felt his breath shake faintly against you, like even he was overwhelmed by the weight of this yes.

His arms held you close, and for a moment you just let yourself melt into him, into the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the faint rhythm of his heartbeat reverberating against your palm, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin barrier of fabric where your bodies met.

A hush hung between you, heavy with everything unspoken, until-

BANG.

The sharp sound ripped through the stillness suddenly, startling you. You jerked slightly in his hold as a crack of gold fire shattered open above the water, scattering dazzling light across the tide.

“Charles!” a voice bellowed faintly from the distance. “I told you to wait!”

You pulled back from Lewis just enough to glance back towards the noise, breath catching as you found the source. Out on the darkening water, a yacht drifted closer, shadows moving along the deck, silhouetted against bursts of color exploding overhead.

As it neared, details sharpened through the haze of sparks and tears; Isabella on the rail, champagne bottle raised high and spraying in a glittering arc, her shriek piercing faintly over the roar of the boat. Miles leaned dramatically over the edge, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled something unintelligible but unmistakably teasing. And of course, Charles stood smugly at the bow, fireworks in hand, clearly proud of himself despite someone still shouting at him from behind.

Another crack split the air, violet sparks raining over the reflection of the waves, and you laughed breathlessly through the blur of tears.

“You told them?” you half-gasped, spinning back to Lewis with wide, tear-glossed eyes.

His smile curved slowly, soft and unrepentant, his thumb brushing the last trace of wetness from your cheek.

“Of course I did,” he chuckled, unable to take his eyes off you even with the display behind you. “Couldn’t do this without them.”

You let out another soft laugh, the sound tangled somewhere between joy and awe, as his fingers threaded through yours, tugging gently. He rose, pulling you with him, and you stood together, the cool sand sifting between your toes as the tide whispered up to kiss your ankles.

Fireworks bloomed in the sky above, painting your world in bursts of violet, gold, and crimson. The reflections rippled across the water, lighting his face in shifting colors, each flash catching in his braids, in the sheen of tears still clinging to his lashes.

He leaned close, his voice roughened. “Come on,” he gestured towards the boat, the grin tugging at his lips, boyish and breathtaking all at once. “Let’s go celebrate, Mrs. Hamilton.”

A light bloomed in your chest at the name, your future spoken into existence. You swallowed hard, breath trembling as your heart pounded against your ribs.

As you walked toward the dock, his hand warm around yours, you glanced down once more. The ring caught the light of another firework, shards of fire flickering across its facets, utterly dazzling.

For the first time, you weren’t searching for answers, or wondering if you belonged. With Lewis’ thumb brushing softly over your own, and the future glittering on your hand, you finally felt it.

Clarity.

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