Chapter 121 CHAPTER 121
Love in the air
“Do you ever wonder,” Ares murmured, staring through the small oval window, “why the people we trust the most are always the first to destroy everything we built?”
Lila turned her head slightly, studying him beneath the warm, dim glow of the cabin lights. The jet hummed softly, slicing through the night sky, an endless blanket of darkness stretching beyond the glass.
“I don’t think they mean to,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, people just forget that love isn’t ownership.”
Ares’s laugh was tired. The kind of laugh that carried too many unspoken things. “My father didn’t forget. He planned every step, every signature, every transfer while my mother trusted him with her life.”
Lila’s eyes softened. “You sound like you’ve been fighting for too long.”
“I have.” His voice dropped lower. “He’s not just taking her company, Lila. He’s taking her sanity. When the hospital called and told me she collapsed again, I knew it wasn’t just the stress, it was heartbreak. He’s filing for divorce, and he said it like it was nothing. Like thirty years meant nothing.”
Lila reached across the small distance separating them, her fingers brushing the back of his hand. Ares looked down at her hand but didn’t move away. His body was tense, shoulders drawn like a man ready to fight, yet his eyes carried sadness.
“I’m sorry, Ares,” she whispered. “That’s… cruel. No one deserves that kind of betrayal, especially from family.”
He exhaled, leaning back into the seat. “I didn’t even know how to tell Tessa. She already thinks I choose work and business over her. If she hears how bad things have gotten, I’ll lose her trust all over again.” He paused. “She doesn’t understand that everything I do is to protect them. Her. The kids. Even my mother and Chloe.”
Lila’s expression shifted, a mix of empathy and quiet admiration. “You carry too much pain alone.”
Ares turned his head, meeting her gaze. “And you? You don’t?”
She smiled faintly. “I used to. Until I learned that some people don’t need you to save them, they just need you to stand still beside them.”
Something in that line made him pause. He stared at her longer than he meant to, the hum of the engines filling the silence. Then, slowly, the tension around his shoulders eased. He leaned back, exhaling deeply.
Lila shifted closer, letting her shoulder brush against his arm. “You need rest,” she murmured. “Sleep for a while.”
“I can’t sleep,” Ares muttered, though his eyelids already felt heavy. “My mind won’t shut down.”
“Then let it rest here,” she said softly, guiding his head gently until it found her shoulder.
Ares didn’t protest. The exhaustion was bone-deep, the kind that no amount of strength could suppress. He closed his eyes, the scent of her perfume drifting around him.
“You were always the wild one,” he murmured, voice slurring with fatigue. “Even back in school.”
Lila smiled faintly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “And you were always the one making me wild out more.”
He didn’t respond. His breathing slowed, evening out until it was steady against her shoulder. She looked at him, really looked at him and saw not the powerful man the world feared, but the son who still wanted his father’s approval, the baby daddy who still carried guilt for loving too fiercely.
Outside, clouds blurred beneath the wings, and the world below turned into an indistinct sea of lights.
Back at the mansion, the night had deepened into a cool hush.
Julian stood at the door of the twins’ room, his hand resting lightly on the frame. The children were asleep—Kamal’s arm draped over Jamal’s, Pretty curled against Beauty like a mirror. The faint glow from their nightlight painted soft shadows on their peaceful faces.
Dorcas had tucked them in hours ago. She was gentle with them, motherly even, and in the stillness of the hall Julian found himself strangely thankful that Ares trusted her.
He turned, closing the door quietly behind him. The house was large, too large, he thought for so few people. Its silence carried weight. The kind that echoed with memories.
As he made his way down the corridor, he hesitated outside Dorcas’s room. Her door was ajar, a strip of warm light spilling across the floor. He knocked lightly.
“Come in,” her voice came, low and soft.
He pushed the door open.
Dorcas was sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair. She turned when she saw him, her eyes lighting with that calm, familiar smile that seemed to undo him every time.
“Hey,” Julian said, stepping inside. “Just checking on you. On them.”
“They’re fine,” Dorcas said, setting the brush down. “You worry too much, Julian.”
He chuckled quietly. “Someone has to.”
“You’re always thinking,” she said, turning to face him fully. “You barely rest.”
Julian shrugged, his voice faint. “Rest doesn’t come easy anymore.”
She stood, walking closer until she was just a few steps away. “You’ve done more than anyone in this house knows. You should allow yourself to breathe.”
Julian looked at her, the flicker of light from the bedside lamp catching in her eyes. There was something about her, steady, grounded that he’d come to depend on more than he wanted to admit.
“I didn’t plan to,” he said. “To come here.”
“I know,” Dorcas said simply. “But maybe you needed to.”
He smiled a little, shaking his head. “You sound like my conscience.”
“Maybe I want to be.”
A small silence fell between them. Then she reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. It was a simple touch, but it was enough. Enough to pull him closer, enough to quiet the chaos that had been running through his mind since the moment he’d stepped into this mansion again.
“Dorcas…” he began, but she hushed him with a whisper.
“You don’t have to explain.”
He didn’t. He didn’t have words anyway.
The night outside was still, the hum of the ceiling fan filled the quiet. The scent of jasmine drifted through the open window.
She leaned in, resting her forehead against his chest, her voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been carrying everyone else’s burdens. Let me carry a little of yours.”
Julian closed his eyes, his hand finding the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. For a long moment, they just stood there, breathing in sync.
And then, like the slow pull of gravity, one thing led to another. The distance between them disappeared. The kiss was soft, hesitant, yet filled with something real. The kind that came not from lust, but from longing for comfort, for connection, for peace.
The lamp flickered, shadows dancing on the wall.
No words followed. The world outside faded, the silence thick and intimate as the night stretched around them.
Somewhere in the distance, a plane cut across the sky.
And beneath that same sky, far from the noise and betrayal, two tired souls found a fleeting moment of quiet.
Ares shifted slightly in his sleep, his brow easing. Lila adjusted the blanket over him, her eyes drifting to the horizon where dawn was starting to break.
For the first time in a long while, morning didn’t feel so far away.