Chapter 157 Small Beginnings
Chapter 157 Small Beginnings
Third Person POV
The apartment was tiny.
A one-bedroom in a building that had seen better days. The walls were thin enough to hear the neighbors arguing. The radiator clanked at odd hours. The kitchen was barely large enough for one person, let alone two.
But it was theirs.
No guards. No security cameras. No reminders of compounds or empires or blood-stained marble floors.
Just a small apartment in Brooklyn with mismatched furniture from IKEA and windows that actually opened.
Freedom.
Melissa stood in the living room, looking around at the chaos. Moving boxes were still stacked against one wall. Aria’s art supplies had taken over the corner near the window. A second-hand couch they’d found on Craigslist dominated the space.
It was perfect.
“I think the bookshelf is crooked,” Aria called from across the room. She was on her knees, trying to level the cheap furniture they’d assembled together. “Hand me that little wrench thing.”
Melissa picked up the Allen key from the floor. Walked over carefully. Her broken arm was still in a cast, making everything awkward.
“Here.”
“Thanks.” Aria adjusted something and sat back. “There all better.”
It still looked crooked.
Neither of them mentioned it.
Aria’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. Then buzzed again. And again.
She glanced at it. Rolled her eyes.
“Kane?” Melissa asked.
“Kane.” Aria stood. Walked over and grabbed the phone. “Third time today.”
The screen showed a series of messages:
Just checking in. How’s the apartment?
Did the furniture get delivered okay?
Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.
I miss you.
Aria scrolled through them with an expression that was half-exasperated, half-fond.
“He’s sweet,” Melissa offered.
“He’s suffocating.” Aria tossed the phone onto the couch. “We need time apart from all those men. Let our skin breathe. Get our heads clear.”
She flopped down onto the couch beside the phone. “No bodyguards. No billionaires. Just us. Being normal.”
Melissa smiled. But it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Aria noticed. She always noticed.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Melissa sat down in the armchair they’d positioned near the window. “Just… adjusting I guess.”
It had been two weeks since they’d left the hospital. Two weeks of trying to figure out how to be a person again.
Melissa was healing physically. The cast would come off in another month. The bruises had faded to yellow-green. The cuts were scarring over.
But inside…
Inside she was still somewhere else. Still in that compound. Still hearing Sophia’s laughter. Still seeing Jason’s face as the knife went in. Still feeling Stephan’s hands…
She shook her head and pushed the thought away.
“You’re not okay,” Aria said.
“I will be.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Melissa looked out the window. At the Brooklyn street below. At normal people living normal lives.
“I don’t know how to be myself anymore,” she said quietly. “Like… who was I before all of this? I can’t even remember.”
Aria was quiet for a moment. Then she got up. Crossed to Melissa’s chair and sat on the arm of it.
“You were the girl who head-butted her cheating ex-boyfriend in a fancy restaurant.”
Melissa’s lips twitched. It was almost a smile.
“You were my best friend who stayed up all night helping me finish my art projects even though you had your own work to do,” Aria continued. “You were the student who actually cared about her classes. The daughter who visited her mom every week even though it was hard.”
She bumped Melissa’s good shoulder gently.
“You were kind. And stubborn. And way too forgiving. And you made terrible jokes when you were nervous.”
“I still do that,” Melissa said.
“See? You’re still in there. You’re just…” Aria paused. “…buried under a lot of shit right now. But you’ll dig yourself out. We’ll dig you out together.”
Melissa leaned her head against Aria’s arm. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably make better life choices.”
That got a real laugh. Small, but real.
Aria’s phone buzzed again.
She groaned. Reached over and grabbed it.
More messages from Kane.
I’m not trying to be overbearing. Just want to make sure you’re safe.
Gavin says I’m being too much. Am I being too much?
You can tell me if I’m being too much.
Aria typed back: You’re being too much. I love you, but give me space. I’ll text you tomorrow.
She hesitated. Then added: Maybe the day after tomorrow.
Sent it. Put the phone face-down on the couch.
“He means well,” Melissa said.
“I know. But I need to remember who I am without someone watching over me constantly.” Aria stood. Stretched. “Besides, men are exhausting. Even the good ones.”
“Gavin’s been texting me too.”
“Have you answered?”
“Sometimes.” Melissa looked down at her cast. Someone…Aria, probably…had drawn little flowers on it in Sharpie. “He asks how I’m doing. If I need anything. Tells me about his physical therapy.”
“Do you want to see him?”
The question hung in the air.
Melissa didn’t answer right away.
Did she want to see Gavin?
Yes. And no. And maybe. And she didn’t know.
“I don’t know how to be around him,” she said finally. “Everything is so… complicated. He killed my father. But he also saved my life. Multiple times. And I love him. I think. But I also don’t know if I can trust that feeling.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Aria said. “You can just… exist. Heal. Be confused. It’s okay not to have answers.”
Melissa nodded. But her chest felt tight.
The apartment was quiet for a moment. Just the sound of the radiator clanking and someone’s music playing faintly from upstairs.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Melissa said. “Just us. In this tiny, overpriced apartment.”
“Me too.” Aria smiled. “Even if the shower barely fits one person and the stove only has three working burners.”
“And the walls are so thin I can hear Mrs. Chen snoring next door.”
“And there’s that weird stain on the ceiling we’re both pretending not to see.”
They looked at each other and started laughing.
When the laughter faded, Aria grabbed Melissa’s good hand.
“We’re going to be okay,” she said. “Both of us. It’s going to take time. And probably a lot of crying. But we’re going to be okay.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Melissa squeezed her hand. “Thank you. For being here. For not giving up on me.”
“Never.” Aria’s voice was fierce. “You’re stuck with me, Hayes. Forever.”
The sun was setting outside, casting orange light through their crooked window onto their crooked furniture in their tiny apartment.
And for the first time in months, Melissa felt something that might have been peace.
She wasn’t herself yet. Might never be exactly who she was before.
But maybe that was okay.
Maybe she could become someone new. Someone forged from trauma and survival and the kind of love that walked back into hell.
Maybe that person would be enough.
For now, though, she just sat with Aria in their small apartment and watched the sun set.
Tomorrow would bring more questions. More healing. More complicated feelings about Gavin and her mother and everything that had happened.
But tonight?
Tonight was just two best friends. A crooked bookshelf. And the quiet promise of normal.
It was small.
But it was a beginning.