Chapter 132 HOME AGAIN.
\~~~RAINA.
The drive home from the hospital felt like a slow unwind, the city streets passing by in a blur of familiar sights that I'd almost forgotten during those endless days away.
Viktor gripped the wheel with his usual steady focus, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror now and then, but he kept quiet, letting the hum of the engine fill the silence.
I sat quietly in the back seat with Luciano beside me, his shoulder brushing mine every time the car took a turn.
Alessia had hugged me tightly before we left the hospital, whispering that she was happy for us, and that everything would be okay.
The house came into view too soon, its stone facade bathed in the early afternoon sun, looking just as solid and unchanging as ever. Viktor parked in the driveway, killing the engine with a soft click.
“You good, boss?’' he asked, turning to Luciano, who gave a short nod.
“Yeah. Thank you.” Luciano's voice was gruff, but there was gratitude there. Viktor glanced at me in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips before he got down to open the door for Luciano first. Luciano waved him off lightly, stubborn as always, and stepped out on his own. I followed, my legs shaky, my emotions too close to the surface.
The house stood there like it always had, big, silent, and intimidating to outsiders. But to me, it had once been everything.
“Welcome back,” Viktor said quietly, nodding at me.
“Thank you,” I replied, meaning more than just the ride.
He left us there after that, giving us privacy without being asked.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The moment I stepped inside, the memories hit me like a wave.
This was where I had laughed, cried, loved, and lost myself.
Luciano followed close behind, his footsteps measured, and we made our way up the stairs without a word. The bedroom door creaked open, and the sight of it hit me like a wave. The king-sized bed with its rumpled duvet, the nightstands cluttered with books and lamps, and the curtains drawn just enough to let in slivers of light. It was ours, untouched and waiting.
The first thing I did was kick off my shoes, the cool hardwood floor grounding me for a second before I launched myself onto the bed. I jumped lightly, the mattress bouncing under me, and then collapsed face-first into the pillows, letting out a muffled groan.
“God!” The word escaped in a sigh, my body sinking into the familiar softness.
“I have missed our room so much!’' I sobbed softly, the sound half-laugh, half-cry, as I pulled the pillows closer, hugging them like old friends. The fabric was cool against my cheek, smelling faintly of him and me mixed together.
My mind wandered back to the blur of the past week, over a week, really, since the divorce papers had torn through our lives like shrapnel.
I'd fled to Alessia's place with my heart shattered, and convinced that everything was crumbling. The fear had been constant, and gnawing at me.
This room had been my home.
Even when I was afraid, even when I didn’t know what would happen next and even when I returned here every day pretending not to see the cracks.
It had been my home and I loved coming back to it every single day, no matter how heavy my heart felt then.
We had argued in this room, and had made love here,
The fear of exposure had tainted it, and made every return feel like walking into a trap. Yet, I'd loved coming back to it every day. It was a sanctuary, flawed and fierce, and lying here now, I felt the ache of absence ease just a little.
The bed dipped beside me, the mattress shifting under Luciano's weight as he settled in. I didn't move at first, savoring the closeness, but then his hand found my waist, warm and steady through my shirt. The touch sent a spark up my spine, and I sat upright, turning to face him. He was propped on one elbow, his dark eyes soft in the dim light, the bandage on his shoulder a stark white against his skin. His hair was tousled from the car ride, and for a moment, he looked so vulnerable, and so human, that my chest tightened.
“I am glad we found our way back to each other,” I said, the words tumbling out raw and honest.
“Me too,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. He leaned in then, closing the gap between us, and his lips met mine in a gentle kiss. It was soft at first, a brush of reassurance, tasting of the mint gum he'd chewed on the way home.
But I couldn't hold back. I leaned forward, kissing him back with an aggression that surprised even me, my hands fisting in his shirt as I poured everything into the longing, the fear, and the relief.
I'd missed him so much it had felt like physical pain, and a hollow in my chest that no amount of distance could fill.
During those days apart, I'd thought I was going to die from it as the separation was carving me hollow. His mouth opened under mine, and I deepened the kiss, our tongues tangling in a desperate rhythm, my body pressing closer until I was half in his lap.
I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, not wanting to break away, not ever. The world outside could wait as this was us, reclaiming what we'd almost lost.
But then a sharp wince escaped him, muffled against my lips, and I pulled back, smacking my lips together as reality crashed in.
“You're injured,” I said, my voice breathy, concern flooding me as I scanned his face.
“Who cares?” He tried to pull me closer again, his good arm wrapping around me with that stubborn determination I knew so well, but I gently slapped his hands away, a giggle bubbling up despite the heat still simmering between us.
“I do. You need to heal.” I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and pushed him back lightly against the pillows.
“Only you can make me heal,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling with mischief, that crooked smile making my resolve waver.
I burst into laughter, shaking my head as I slid off the bed.
“Nice try, hubby, but no,” The word 'hubby' felt new on my tongue, playful and right, a bridge over the chasm we'd crossed.
I stood, smoothing my clothes, and wandered to the dressing table across the room. The mirror reflected my messy hair, flushed cheeks, and eyes brighter than they'd been in days.
I scanned the surface absently, fingers trailing over the brushes and perfume bottles, but then my gaze sharpened.
Where was it? The spot by the jewelry tray, usually holding my wedding ring, was empty. I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat, and pulled open the top drawer.
Nothing.
I opened the next one usually lined with scarves and clips and there was still nothing.
My heart stuttered. I'd left it when everything fell apart.
“Looking for something?” Luciano's voice came from the bed, curious but not pressing.
I closed the drawer with a soft thud, forcing a casual smile as I turned.
“No, just thinking about how to restock my skincare products,” It was a lie, easy enough to spin, but it sat heavy in my mouth. I didn't want to dredge up the ring, not now, and not when we were finally piecing things together.
He nodded, accepting it, and patted the bed beside him. “Come here. Rest with me.”
I hesitated, my eyes lingering on the empty table, but then joined him, curling into his side carefully, mindful of his wound. As his arm draped over me, I let my mind drift back to the ring. He might have thrown it away, I thought, the idea twisting like a knife.
I'd returned it to him during our worst fight, a symbol of the fracture between us, and in the heat of betrayal and pain, he'd probably tossed it into the trash, the ocean, somewhere it couldn't mock him.
The thought hurt more than I expected, but I swallowed hard and let it settle.
If that was the price of finding our way back to each other, I could live with it.
Even without the ring.
Even with the ache.
I was home again.
And for now… that was enough.