The sky had softened into dusky hues, brushing the horizon with strokes of pale violet and fading gold. The day had melted into evening, and the hospital yard was starting to empty-staff ending their shifts, laughter and quiet chatter fading into the hum of distant traffic.
Savannah stepped through the hospital doors, the glass sliding closed behind her with a whisper. Her white coat draped over one arm, bag slung loosely over her shoulder, she moved like a ghost-feet tracing familiar steps, but heart far from them.
And there he was.
Blaze.
Leaning against his sleek black car in his usual spot. His dark tailored coat danced lightly in the breeze, and the moment he spotted her, his face lit up. There was a warmth in his eyes—a boyish softness that only she had ever known.
The man who commanded empires with a mere glance now looked as if he could shatter under the weight of her silence.
She didn't hesitate. She walked straight toward him, and as soon as she was close enough, his arms enveloped her tightly.
"I missed you so much," Blaze whispered against her hair, burying his face in her shoulder as if he could draw life from her presence. His embrace was desperate, as if letting her go, even for a heartbeat, might make her disappear.
But Savannah remained still.
Her arms hung at her sides, lifeless and detached. Her body stood rigid, unyielding.
There was no warmth in her touch—because there was no touch at all.
Blaze sensed it instantly, yet he didn't let go. He held her tighter, silently wishing that if he could just keep her in his arms long enough, the love she once enveloped him in might find its way back.
After a long, heavy moment, he gently pulled back to meet her gaze.
"Long day?" he asked softly.
Savannah nodded once.
He offered her a small smile. "Let's get you home."
And so they drove away.
The car ride was eerily quiet—too quiet, really. The radio played soft instrumental music, but the silence between them hung in the air like a thick fog. Blaze kept sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye, searching for something—anything—in her expression.
But there was nothing.
No irritation. No warmth. No tears.
Just an unsettling stillness.
A hollow emptiness where passion used to burn bright.
Baldwin's Mansion
They stepped into the house like two strangers.
The home they had once filled with memories—the hallway where they danced barefoot, the kitchen where he'd charred pancakes in a bid to impress her, the living room that had once echoed with laughter—felt cold and lifeless.
Their bedroom welcomed them with dim lighting and a heavy silence.
Savannah moved through her evening routine like a robot. She slipped into her nightwear, folded her coat with precision, and brushed her hair with slow, absent-minded strokes. Blaze sat on the edge of the bed, hands loosely clasped, watching her.
When she finally joined him, she lay down on her side of the bed.
Blaze turned to her and instinctively wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest.
Just like always.
But this time, unlike before, her body didn't melt into his. She didn't curl up against him. She didn't rest her head on his chest or slide her hand into his.
She just lay there—still, unmoving.
Her eyes were open, staring blankly into the darkened room.
Blaze buried his face in her hair again, inhaling her scent as if it were the very air he needed to breathe. His heart twisted painfully in his chest.
It had been days since he last truly heard her voice. And even longer since she had smiled at him or touched him with love.
He wanted to shake her, to cry, to beg her to say something—anything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt he had no right. Not after everything that had happened.
She had every reason to shut down. And yet, here she was, still beside him.
That should have been enough. But it slowly took his life away.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips trembling under the weight of his regret.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice nearly breaking. "For everything. I know words don't mean much now. But... I'll stay. No matter what."
Silence hung in the air.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling her closer, wrapping himself around her like a shield against all the pain she had endured, even if he was part of the reason for it.
He would never let her go.
Because she belonged to him.
And he belonged to her.
No matter how distant their hearts had become, no matter how frayed their connection felt—he believed, with every breath he took, that they were still meant for each other.
And he would fight for that. Even if it meant waiting in silence, beside her stillness, for the rest of his days.
California's international airport buzzed with life.
The expansive glass walls caught the soft, golden glow of the late afternoon sun, while the polished floors sparkled under the rush of hurried footsteps. The sounds of rolling suitcases, hushed conversations, and loudspeaker announcements created a chaotic symphony that could easily engulf anyone.
But right in the middle of it all, Anastasia stood perfectly still.
Her petite figure was wrapped in a cozy beige trench coat, her long, dark hair swaying gently with the air circulating through the terminal. The edges of her silk scarf danced like whispers against her collarbone. She appeared calm on the outside, but inside, it felt like her ribs were cracking, struggling to contain her heart.
Next to her stood Noah, her husband. Tall, composed, and strong. Yet even he couldn't completely hide the storm brewing behind his usually steady gaze. His arms were crossed, as if trying to contain all the worry he felt, but every now and then, he shifted his weight or glanced at her suitcase, as if he might snatch it back and tell her she wasn't going anywhere.
"You sure?" he asked, for the fifth time.
His voice was low and steady, but heavy with concern.
Anastasia turned to him, her face softening into a gentle half-smile. She reached out, intertwining her fingers with his. "Yes, honey. I'm sure. I need to go. I have to do this... for her. She needs someone who will fight for her. I want to be one of that person."
The strength in her voice didn't clash with her softness; it blended perfectly. It was that rare mix of passion and kindness that Noah had always admired, even felt a bit intimidated by. She had always been the type to walk through fire for those she loved. And now, she was stepping into the unknown—for Savannah.
Noah let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're really something, you know that?" But then his smile faded. "Just... please don't do anything reckless. Don't put yourself in danger. Promise me you'll be extra careful."
"I promise," she said, pressing her hand against his chest for a moment, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his coat.
Then she gave a light smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Why do I feel like I'm some kind of undercover agent? Off on a secret mission to infiltrate a criminal empire."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not too far off, honestly."
Their laughter was short-lived when the final boarding call for her flight crackled over the airport speaker. "Final boarding call for Flight 482 to Chicago. All remaining passengers, please proceed to Gate 26 immediately."
The brightness in her smile dimmed.
Anastasia's gaze dropped to a small boy clinging to his father's leg. Their son, with wide, curious eyes that mirrored hers, was watching her with a kind of silent intensity only a child could muster. As soon as she bent down, he wrapped his little arms around her neck, burying his face in her coat.
"I'll be back in a few days, okay, baby?" she whispered, gently rubbing his back.
He nodded against her. "Be back quick. We have to go to the amusement park. You promised."
The weight of that promise cracked her heart in two.
"I'll be back before you even miss me," she whispered, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head.
She lingered there, soaking in the scent of his baby shampoo, the warmth of his little arms wrapped around her, and the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks with each blink. It took every ounce of willpower not to scoop him up and refuse to let go. But deep down, she understood that this journey, this mission fueled by love and loyalty, was something she had to do.
Rising to her feet, she took one last look at Noah. Her eyes were filled with a whirlwind of emotions—fear, love, longing, and determination.
"Take care of him. Pick him up from school on time. Make sure he brushes his teeth before bed. And don't let him convince you that gummies count as dinner."
Noah chuckled. "Okay, okay. I'll stick to the 'mom handbook.'"
But then his expression turned serious as he stepped closer, his hand finding hers. He looked at her as if she was his entire world—his anchor and his wild wind.
"Be careful," he said softly. "Don't hesitate to call if anything feels off. I'll be on the next flight if you need me. You hear me?"
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "I know."
Then he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her as if he feared she might vanish the moment he let go. She clung to him, inhaling the familiar scent of home—cedarwood, laundry soap, and safety.
Their son wrapped his tiny arms around their legs, hugging them both at once.
The moment hung in the air, suspended between heartbeats.
But time, relentless and unforgiving, didn't wait for anyone.
With one last kiss on Noah's cheek, Anastasia took a shaky step back. She turned, grabbed her carry-on, and with tears she refused to let fall, she walked toward the boarding gate.
Noah stood there, their son's small hand in his, watching the woman he loved blend into the crowd of travelers.
She never looked back.
But Noah knew—if anyone could walk through fire and emerge with their spirit intact, it was her.
Author's Note :
Thankyou for reading<3
Have a good day/night<3<3