Chapter 63

Chapter 63
 The morning light crept gently into the room, nudging Ariana from sleep with a softness that opposed  the storm still settling in her chest. The sheets were tangled around her legs, a mixture of silk and tension clinging to her body like a second skin. She turned her head slowly.

Callum and her had gone to bed separately the night before. She needed her space to just think things through.

The side of the bed he’d usually occupy before still held a faint warmth, and the memory of his voice—low, hoarse, apologetic—lingered in the still air. He had explained to her everything that transpired on the trip. Or at least, what he claimed was everything.

How the gala was a strategic move. How Milanna was bait, not a partner. How he needed to get ahead of enemies with more eyes and power than she could yet understand. He had sworn she was never just a pawn. That what they had was real.

And she’d wanted to believe him.

Still wanted to.

But something in her had folded inward, retreating like a paper wall folding against wind. No matter how much she pressed her hand to the surface, there was still space between them she couldn’t close.

Ariana sat up slowly, pulling her knees to her chest. The silence was heavier now, heavier than the headlines, heavier than the lies Milanna had whispered into cameras. It was the kind of quiet that made her question everything. The tabloids were like a constant reminded of the fraud that this truly was.

What happens after the inheritance? Would he still be this kind man she had grown to love?

That was the thought she couldn’t shake. What if she was only needed until he secured the throne? What if this entire thing—every kiss, every night wrapped in him—was just a performance wrapped in something dangerously close to love? Could he be such an amazing actor to pretend for this long?

She stood, padded across the hardwood floor to the ensuite bathroom, and turned on the faucet. As water poured into the marble sink, she stared at her reflection. Her eyes were slightly puffy from the quiet crying she hadn’t let Callum hear the night before. Her lips, slightly parted, still bore the ghost of the kiss he gave her before falling asleep.

Was that real? Or was it apology-shaped comfort?

She pushed the thought aside, washed her face, and dressed in silence.

...........................

The hospital was buzzing with its usual quiet chaos. Nurses moved down the corridor with practiced efficiency, wheeling carts, patients and carrying tablets. The air smelled of antiseptic and something faintly floral—probably from the bouquet someone had left in the waiting room. Ariana walked past it all like a ghost wrapped in cream wool and soft leather boots, her face calm, her eyes somewhere else and her mind currently in shambles.

Charlie’s room was just down the hall, third on the left. Ariana braced herself at the door and stepped inside.

“Ari!” Charlie’s face lit up, instantly easing a knot Ariana didn’t know she’d been carrying.

“Hey, baby  sis,” Ariana said, managing a small smile. She walked over and set the smoothie she brought down on the tray table. “Carrot, ginger, mango—the one you like.”

Charlie’s eyes danced with amusement. “Trying to bribe me to behave during physio?”

Ariana gave a small laugh. “If it works, I’ll bring two tomorrow.”

They shared a moment of comfortable silence as Charlie sipped. Ariana sat in the armchair near the window, legs crossed neatly, but her shoulders were too still, too tense.

Charlie noticed.

“You’re quieter today, Is everything okay with you?” she said gently.

Ariana shrugged. “Yes, I’m just tired.” She lied.

Charlie gave her a long look. “You lie like you used to steal— very badly.”

Ariana snorted despite herself. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“You’ve definitely stolen a few hearts.”

That earned a full, albeit small, smile. “Maybe one. Temporarily.”

Charlie tilted her head. “So... he’s back?”

Ariana’s smile faded.

“He came back last night.”

“And?”

“There were headlines going about which I believe you might have seen. He explained everything. The gala. Milanna. Said it was a move to protect me. That I’m not a pawn.” She paused. “But that’s just it. He always says the right thing. And I want to believe it. But I keep wondering... what happens when he doesn’t need me anymore?”

Charlie frowned, setting the smoothie down. “Ari—”

“No, I know what you’ll say. That I’m being insecure. That I’m spiraling. But this world of his—it’s like standing on ice. I never know when it’s going to crack beneath me. And I’m scared that when it does... I’ll drown alone.”

Charlie was quiet for a long moment. Then she leaned forward, her voice steady. “It’s not insecure to wonder if someone’s love has conditions. It’s human. But Ariana—don’t let fear of being disposable convince you that you already are. Has he ever made you feel like that before?”

“No,” Ariana admitted, whisper-soft. “Not intentionally. But it’s hard to know what’s real when so much of our lives are a performance. The tabloids. The dinners. Even the wedding—it was never supposed to be a real marriage. Just a cover.”

“But it became more. I see how he cares for you, for us. You can’t fake that amount of concern. He has done a lot more than whatever the agreement between you both was. Don’t remove the shoe too quickly because you’re scared it might drop.”

“Yeah,” Ariana said. “And maybe that’s the part that scares me most. I didn’t plan to fall for him like this.”

Charlie reached over and took her hand. “Then stop fighting the fact that you did. And start figuring out if you’re both brave enough to build something real from it.”

Ariana blinked fast, pressing her lips together.

“I hate that you’re the one giving me relationship advice while you’re in a hospital bed.”

Charlie smiled. “You forget I’ve been watching way too many rom-coms on this morphine.”

They both laughed, tension easing just enough.

“Are you ready for physio?” Ariana asked after a moment.

Charlie made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“You’ll do great. You always do.”

“Only because I’ve got my big sister acting like my bodyguard.”

Ariana leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Always.”

Later, after watching Charlie walk two assisted laps around the hall with the therapists and then fall into exhausted sleep, Ariana stood at the window, watching the city.

Callum had texted her once that morning.

Made it back in early. In meetings now. I’ll come home soon.

Short. Professional. Like something a husband would send his wife after an arranged marriage of convenience.

It shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did.

Because she didn’t want a convenient husband anymore. She wanted Callum. The man who had carried her out of the club that night. The one who’d run her baths and held her hand when Charlie’s surgery nearly fell apart. The one who’d kissed her like the world could end, and he’d still ask for one more minute.

Her phone buzzed again. A second message.

I miss you.

She stared at the screen. Let her heart crack open just a little.

But she didn’t reply.

Back at the penthouse, Ariana walked through the empty apartment like she was haunting it. Elena had left dinner instructions in the fridge. A note sat on the counter: Warm for 20 minutes at 180°. Callum's favorite—rosemary lamb with truffle mash. Hope you both enjoy.

She didn’t warm anything.

She poured a glass of wine instead and curled up on the living room couch, knees tucked under her chin, watching the skyline through the windows. It was only seven p.m., but the city already glittered like secrets waiting to be exposed.

Her heart was still heavy. Still unsure.

But as the wine warmed her chest and the lights flickered from neighboring buildings, she made herself a quiet promise.

One more day. One more chance. If Callum could be honest again—if he could reach her where words failed—she’d stay. But if not... she’d learn how to leave.

And this time, she wouldn’t break quietly.