A Sun

A Sun
Anastasia’s POV

The morning air is cold against my skin, but I don’t pull the blanket tighter.

Leomord is still asleep beside me, one arm loosely around my waist. His breathing is soft, almost peaceful. You wouldn’t think a man like him, scarred, hunted, haunted, could sleep like that.

And yet, here we are.

Safe. Together. But not really at peace.

I stare at the ceiling, heart heavy with questions I don’t ask anymore. Ever since his confession—that someone from his past wants him back, I’ve been holding my breath. Waiting for something to happen.

We’re not running anymore, but it doesn’t feel like we’ve truly stopped either.

He shifts, fingers brushing my arm. “You’re awake,” he murmurs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I whisper.

He pulls me closer, burying his face in my shoulder. “I’m here.”

I nod, but I don’t say anything.

We stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other and silence.

Later, while I’m making breakfast, I catch Maria watching us. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You two okay?” she asks, not pretending to beat around the bush.

I flip the eggs and sigh. “He told me everything.”

Maria walks in and grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Everything?”

“The gang. The threats. What they did to him. Why he lied.”

Maria sits at the table, watching the steam rise from her coffee. “He’s trying, you know. He’s scared. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I know,” I say softly. “And I love him. But… I’m scared too.”

There’s a pause.

Then Maria says, “You don’t have to pretend to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I just want us to have a normal life. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” she says. “But maybe you have to fight for it.”

I sit beside her. “Even if it means leaving again?”

Maria looks out the window. “Even then.”

~

That afternoon, Leomord surprises me.

He comes home with a blanket, a small basket, and that familiar crooked smile I’ve missed so much.

“Come on,” he says. “We’re going out.”

I blink. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

We walk together down the old path behind Grandma’s house. The trees sway in the breeze, leaves dancing like they’ve been waiting for us to return. There’s something timeless about this place. Something safe.

He lays the blanket beneath a tree near the lake. It’s quiet. Calm. The sky is painted in pinks and oranges as the sun begins to lower.

He unpacks the basket—two sandwiches, fruit, a bottle of lemonade.

“You made all this?” I smile.

He shrugs. “Maria helped.”

We eat in silence at first. Then I catch him watching me.

“What?” I ask, amused.

“Just… I missed this.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

After we eat, he pulls me up and wraps his arms around me. We sway slowly, no music, just the rhythm of the breeze and the sound of birds returning to the trees.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmurs into my hair.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, resting my head against his chest. “I do. And I choose you.”

He holds me tighter.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says after a while.

“Dangerous.”

He chuckles. Then he’s serious again. “We should leave.”

I look up. “Leave?”

“This town. The village. All of it. I want to take you somewhere new. Somewhere safe. Really safe this time.”

“What about Maria? Grandma?”

“They’ll come too,” he says. “If they want. But I need to get you away from anyone who ever knew me back then.”

I stare at him. “You really think they’ll come after me?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

The fear in his eyes sends a chill down my spine.

I take a breath. “Then we’ll go.”

He nods.

The sun dips lower.

A new chapter begins.

I can’t sleep.

The wind is gentle outside, brushing against the windowpane, but inside me, it’s a storm. Leomord has barely spoken a word since dinner. He said he was tired. But something deeper lives behind those eyes, something he’s not telling me.

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling in our small rented room, tucked away in this quiet village. I hear the floor creak faintly, and a second later, I know he’s standing at the window again. Watching. Guarding. Or maybe hiding from me.

I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping off my shoulder. “Leomord?”

He doesn’t turn around. “You should sleep.”

His voice is low. Rough.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “You’re distant again.”

That finally gets him. He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair before walking over and sitting beside me on the bed. His gaze is on the floor. I watch the way his hands clench, then release. “I’m trying to protect you, Anastasia. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

I reach for his hand. “Then talk to me.”

His shoulders tense. “Some things… talking doesn’t fix.”

“You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

He finally lifts his eyes to mine. They’re tired. And afraid. Not of me, but of something creeping in from the past, like a shadow that refuses to disappear.

I lean closer, my voice barely a whisper. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

He looks at me for a long second. Then he finally speaks.

“I used to do things I’m not proud of,” he starts. “In prison, I got caught up with a man. He ran things. Drugs. Organs. Whatever made money. I didn’t have a choice. It was survive or be buried.”

My breath catches, but I don’t look away. I wait.

“I left all of that behind,” he says. “But last week… he found me. He wants me back in. Or dead.”

My stomach tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’ve already suffered enough because of me.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t want to pull you back into that world.”

I grip his hand tighter. “Leomord, I love you. I chose this life with you, no matter how hard it gets. But I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

He closes his eyes, like the weight is finally too much. “He tried to take me. Beat me. Threatened to take you next if I didn’t return.”

I feel my blood go cold.

“We need to leave again,” he says. “Farther this time. Somewhere even he can’t find us.”

I nod slowly. “Then we leave. But this time, we leave together. No more secrets.”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “You don’t know how much I need you.”

I smile faintly, tears gathering. “I do.”

Silence wraps around us, but it’s no longer cold. It’s heavy with truth. With trust.

“We’ll figure it out,” I whisper. “We’ll start again.”

He finally pulls me into his arms, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

Maybe the past hasn’t let us go, but we’ve chosen each other. And that matters more.

Tomorrow, we’ll run again.

But tonight, we’re still here.

Together.