Chapter 284
Aria's POV
The Manhattan skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows as Devon finally released me, stepping back and using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears on his face. He lowered his eyes, voice still hoarse. "I'm sorry. For letting you see me like this... so pathetic."
"Pathetic?" I grasped his hand, feeling the slight tremor in his fingers. "Devon, do you know what I was thinking just now?"
He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes.
"I was thinking," I said, looking up at him, "that you actually cry. That you can actually be afraid. That you have vulnerable moments too." I paused, watching the surprise flicker across his face. "I always thought you were... indestructible."
"I'm not." His laugh was bitter, the sound catching in his throat. "I just... got used to pretending."
"I know." I stood on my tiptoes, using my thumb to gently wipe away the remaining moisture at the corner of his eye. His skin was warm beneath my touch. "But you don't need to pretend in front of me."
Devon looked at me then, and I saw something shift in those gray eyes—complex emotions swirling like storm clouds.
"Devon," I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "I stand with you—not as someone you need to protect, but as your partner. Your past, your pain, your guilt—I accept all of it."
"Aria..."
"You've always protected me." I interrupted him, needing him to hear this. "From the car accident, to Arthur, to today... you've always stood in front of me. But Devon, I want to protect you too." I tightened my grip on his hand, feeling the calluses on his palm. "At least, let me share your suffering. Don't carry all of this alone anymore."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to suppress the emotions welling up again. "You don't understand... how much I... how terrified I am of losing you."
My heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. "I understand." I said softly. "Just like you're afraid of losing Evelyn again. Just like you're afraid I'll be abandoned by the family like your mother was." I looked into his eyes, refusing to let him look away. "But Devon, I won't leave you."
"How can you be sure?" His voice betrayed obvious insecurity—an emotion I never thought I'd hear from Devon Kane. "Maybe one day you'll discover I'm not as good as you think. Maybe you'll realize the weight I carry is too heavy, and you can't bear it—"
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, cutting off his words.
Devon froze against my lips, then closed his eyes and responded. This kiss was unlike our previous ones—no possessiveness, no aggression. It was gentle, careful, and I felt something shift between us. Like two wounded souls finally finding comfort in each other.
When we separated, I pressed my forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow. "I accept your past. I'm willing to share your pain. I want to be part of your future." I lifted my head, knowing tears were glistening in my eyes. "Devon, stop treating me like a fragile porcelain doll. I want to be your true partner—the kind who can fight alongside you."
He looked down at me, and I watched as tears welled up in his eyes again. "I don't deserve..."
"You do." I said firmly, surprised by the conviction in my own voice. "You deserve to be loved, Devon. Not because you're wealthy, not because you have power, not because you're the Kane heir—just because you're you."
Those words seemed to break something in him. Devon suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace, so tight I could barely breathe. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I felt the hot tears against my skin as he cried silently.
This time, he didn't try to hide, didn't try to suppress—he just held me like that. I could feel the weight of twenty years of accumulated pain and guilt pouring out of him, soaking into my shoulder.
I held him tight, patting his back rhythmically, like soothing a wounded child. My own tears fell silently as I whispered, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Outside the window, Manhattan's lights gradually brightened against the deepening twilight. The entire city was shrouded in dusk, but inside this apartment, we had finally found each other's harbor.
---
A long time later—I couldn't say how long—Devon finally calmed down. He released me and turned toward the bathroom without a word. "I... I'm going to wash my face."
His voice was still hoarse, his eyes red and swollen, but I noticed something different in his expression. He looked lighter somehow, as if he'd finally put down a boulder he'd carried for years.
I watched him walk into the bathroom, hearing the sound of running water echo through the quiet apartment. Walking to the sofa, I sank into the cushions, feeling a deep exhaustion wash over me—not physical tiredness, but the emptiness that comes after emotional overload.
My hand moved instinctively to my slightly rounded abdomen. I touched it gently and whispered, "Baby, your daddy... he's a very brave person. Though he might not think so himself."
The doorbell suddenly rang, making me jump.
I glanced at the clock on the wall—eight PM. Who would be visiting now? I stood and walked toward the door, my legs feeling heavier than usual. Through the peephole, I saw Marcus's familiar figure.
Opening the door, Marcus nodded respectfully. "Ms. Harper, Ms. Kim has arrived. Boss instructed me to arrange for her to come up earlier."
I was momentarily stunned, then remembered—Sophia. Devon had mentioned arranging for her to come help select a wedding dress. It felt like a lifetime ago, though it had only been this morning.
"Let her come up." I said, trying to smooth down my disheveled hair.
A few minutes later, Sophia burst through the door carrying bags large and small, her energy filling the quiet space. As soon as she saw me, she rushed over. "Oh my god, Aria! I heard about what happened today—" She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she took in my appearance. "What happened?"
I could only imagine how I looked—red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained face. "Nothing." I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "It's just been... a very long day."
Sophia looked at me with obvious concern, her brow furrowing, but thankfully she didn't press further. She glanced around the apartment. "Where's Devon?"
"In the bathroom."
"Good." Sophia pulled me to sit beside her on the sofa, her familiar warmth comforting. "Then let's talk about wedding dresses first." She opened her tablet with practiced efficiency. "I've contacted several top wedding dress designers. They'll bring samples for fittings tomorrow. What style do you want? Elegant, sexy, or minimalist?"