Morning seeped through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue over the dimly lit bedroom. The air was thick with the remnants of the night before, the scent of passion lingering between the tangled sheets. Vivie stirred, her body aching in ways she hadn’t expected, a deep, delicious soreness reminding her of everything that had transpired between them. Heat flushed her cheeks at the memory—his hands on her body, the way he had claimed her, consumed her. But as she turned her head, her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her.

Ashton lay beside her, his features softened in sleep, devoid of the ever-present tension he carried while awake. His dark lashes fanned against his sharp cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly. One of his arms draped possessively over her waist, his grip firm even in unconsciousness, as if refusing to let her go.

For a long moment, she simply watched him, trying to memorize him like this—unguarded, peaceful. How could the same man who had shattered her with a single action also be the one who made her feel so completely whole?

Her chest tightened, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily upon her. Because no matter how much she wanted to hold onto this moment, to bask in the warmth of his embrace, reality was a cruel mistress. And it came crashing down on her the moment the memories of his ex resurfaced.

The sight of her, touching him so familiarly, the easy way they had interacted as if Vivie didn’t exist—it was a wound that refused to heal. The rational part of her knew it had been just business, that Ashton wasn’t the type to act on feelings easily. But the irrational part, the part that ached for him in ways she couldn’t control, whispered ugly truths. He had let it happen. He had let her touch him, lean into him, smile at him in that way only lovers did. And he hadn’t pushed her away.

A lump formed in her throat. She had been nothing but a fool.

Ashton stirred beside her, his fingers flexing on her hip before tightening as if he knew she was slipping away even before his eyes opened. A low groan left his lips, his body shifting before his dark gaze found hers. There was a fleeting moment where he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable, before his voice, rough with sleep, filled the silence between them.

“Morning.”

Vivie swallowed, forcing a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Morning.”

His fingers traced mindless patterns against her bare waist. “You okay?”

No. She wasn’t okay. She was unraveling.

“Ashton.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant, but he heard the change in her tone immediately. His fingers stilled, his body tensing as his sharp eyes studied her.

“What is it?”

She hesitated, knowing the truth would shatter the fragile peace between them. But she couldn’t keep pretending.

“That day, when your ex came back…” Her throat tightened around the words, but she forced them out anyway. “You acted like I wasn’t even there. Like I was nothing.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a shadow of guilt, but he didn’t speak. He only watched her, his silence suffocating.

“I know we never defined what this is,” she continued, voice shaking. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Seeing you with her… watching the way you let her touch you, the way you looked at her.” She exhaled shakily. “It felt like I was invisible.”

His jaw clenched. His hand tightened on her waist, as if grounding himself.

“I tried to ignore it,” she admitted. “I told myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care. But I did. I still do.” Her voice cracked. “And I hate that I do. Because you never gave me a reason to think I mattered to you.”

Ashton inhaled sharply, his grip shifting to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. “You do matter to me, Vivie.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Do I?”

“Yes.” His voice was firm, unwavering. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“Then why did you do it?” she whispered. “Why did you let her act like she still had a place in your life?”

He exhaled, the weight of the question pressing between them. “Because I was scared.”

Vivie frowned. “Scared?”

“Yes.” His thumb brushed over her cheek, a touch so gentle it made her heart ache. “I didn’t want to pull you deeper into this… into me.”

She swallowed hard. “But you already have.”

His eyes darkened. “I know.”

A tense silence stretched between them, filled with unsaid words and unspoken fears.

Vivie blinked back tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Ashton. Feeling like I’m fighting for something you won’t fight for.”

His hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. “I do want to fight for it,” he murmured. “I just don’t know how.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. The vulnerability in his gaze, the raw honesty, it was terrifying. Because it meant there was hope. And hope was the cruelest thing of all.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, in their fears, in their truths. And for the first time, Ashton didn’t push her away.

For the first time, he held on.