Ariana had been avoiding Roberto ever since he reminded her of the truth.
Our marriage is just a contract.
The words had cut deeper than she expected. Deeper than she had allowed herself to admit.
So she kept her distance. She left rooms when he entered.
She answered with politeness instead of warmth.
She treated him like a stranger she once loved.
Roberto noticed. He noticed everything.
That morning, she had only gone to his room to leave the documents he needed for work.
Nothing more. Nothing emotional. Nothing dangerous.
He was standing by the mirror, buttoning his shirt, sleeves rolled, hair still slightly damp from his shower.
"Just put them on the table," he said without turning.
She did. Then she turned to leave.
"Ariana," he called quietly. She stopped.
"I told you the truth," he continued. "Not because I don't care. But because I was afraid of how much I do."
She didn't look back. "You told me our marriage was nothing. That I was bought with your money."
"I told you it started as nothing," he corrected softly.
She finally turned. His eyes met hers in the mirror. Vulnerable. Tired.
"You said it like it didn't matter," she whispered.
Roberto walked toward her slowly.
"I said it like someone who was scared of wanting more."
The air between them tightened.
Ariana swallowed. "Then why does it still hurt?"
"Because we both broke something we didn't want to lose."
She shook her head, trying to step back.
But Roberto reached out and gently caught her wrist — not to hold her, only to stop her from leaving.
"Look at me." She did.
His hand moved to her cheek, hesitating, giving her time to pull away. She didn't.
Roberto leaned in and kissed her. It was soft. Brief. Full of regret and longing.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
"I shouldn't have said it like that," he whispered. "And you shouldn't have believed I meant it."
Ariana's eyes shimmered.
"Then don't make me feel disposable again."
"I won't," he promised quietly.
She didn't answer but she didn't walk away either.
And for the first time since he said those words —
The contract didn't feel like the only thing holding them together anymore.
Ariana told herself she was fine.
She repeated it like a promise as she walked beside Zara down the quiet street, her hand loosely holding the little girl's.
Zara skipped ahead, excited, unaware of how heavy Ariana's chest still felt.
Roberto's kiss lingered on her lips like a question she wasn't ready to answer.
She hadn't told Zara about it. She hadn't told anyone.
Zara tugged her hand. "Mum, is Sofia excited as well?"
Ariana smiled softly. "She is. She has talked about it so much that aunty Melissa is tired"
Zara giggled. "I like that she's happy."
Ariana wished she still felt that simple.
Melissa's house came into view, warm and modest, with laughter already spilling from inside.
Sofia ran to the door the moment she saw Zara.
"Zara!"
"Sofia!"
The girls collided into a hug and immediately ran inside, already lost in their own world.
Ariana and Melissa watched them with identical
"They've been counting down all morning," Melissa said. "You look tired."
"I am," Ariana admitted quietly.
They sat on the couch while the girls spread toys across the floor, building castles and arguing over imaginary kingdoms.
Melissa studied Ariana carefully. "Did something happen with Roberto?"
Ariana looked away. "He kissed me."
Melissa blinked. "Oh. Again?"
"That's all you're going to say?"
Melissa smiled gently. "I mean it's not the first time but I was waiting for you to breathe first."
Ariana let out a shaky laugh.
"I don't know what it meant. I don't know what I feel anymore."
Melissa leaned back. "You love him."
Ariana shook her head. "I don't want to. I tried not to."
"But you still do."
Ariana swallowed. "He reminded me our marriage was just a contract… and then he kissed me like it wasn't."
Melissa's voice softened. "Maybe he's confused too."
Ariana watched Zara laugh with Sofia, her heart aching in a quiet, unfamiliar way.
"I'm tired of loving people who don't know how to choose me."
Melissa reached for her hand. "Maybe he's finally learning how."
Ariana didn't answer.
Zara suddenly ran over.
"Mummy! Sofia says when we grow up we're going to live together with a garden and a cat."
Ariana smiled at her. "That sounds perfect."
Zara tilted her head. "Why do grown-ups make things harder than kids do?"
Ariana felt her throat tighten.
"Because," she said softly, "we forget how to be honest."
Zara hugged her waist without understanding.
Ariana closed her eyes. Her heart felt quieter. Not healed. Not certain. Just… held and maybe, for now, that was enough.
Roberto couldn't focus. Not on emails, not on meetings, not on the tie he had retied three times without realizing.
All he could think about was Ariana's lips.
The way she had frozen when he kissed her.
The way she hadn't pushed him away.
The way her breath had trembled against his.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes closing.
Our marriage is just a contract. He hated himself for those words now.
He had said them because he was afraid.
Afraid that if he admitted the truth—that he wanted her, needed her, loved her—she would have the power to destroy him.
But she already did and she always had.
Roberto pressed his fingers against his mouth, replaying the moment over and over.
The softness. The hesitation. The ache.
"She deserved better than my fear," he whispered to the empty office.
He wondered what she was thinking.
If she regretted it, If she was angry.
If she missed him the way he missed her.
He opened his phone, typed her name… and closed it again.
I don't get to confuse her anymore, he told himself. Not unless I'm ready to be honest.
When Ariana Came Home
It was almost midnight when Ariana returned.
The house was quiet, lights dim, the air heavy with unsaid things.
She removed her shoes slowly with Zara on her back.
She moved lightly as if the sound might wake the memory of the kiss again.
Roberto was in the living room not asleep. Waiting.
He stood when he saw her.
"You're late," he said softly.
She nodded. "I needed air."
They stood there, facing each other across the room like strangers who knew too much.
"I've been thinking," Roberto said.
"So have I," Ariana replied.
Silence.
Then Ariana spoke, her voice steady but fragile.
"You can't kiss me like I'm your wife and talk to me like I'm your contract."
Roberto's chest tightened. "I know."
She stepped closer. Not to touch him. Just to be seen.
"I don't need promises," she continued. "I just need honesty."
He swallowed. "I was afraid to love you openly."
Ariana's eyes softened painfully. "I was afraid you never did."
Roberto took a step toward her. Slowly.
"I do," he said. "I just didn't know how to stop protecting myself."
Ariana looked at him for a long moment.
Then she reached out and touched his chest.
Not where his heart should be but where it already was.
"I came home because I still choose you," she whispered. "Even when you make it hard."
Roberto gently covered her hand with his.
"I don't want to be your contract anymore."
Ariana's breath caught.
"I want to be your husband."
Her eyes filled but she didn't cry.
She just leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.
They didn't kiss, they didn't rush.
They just stayed there.
Two people learning how to love without hiding.
And for the first time in a long time—
Home didn't feel like a place.
It felt like each other.
Zara was the first to notice.
She always was. She sat at the kitchen table the next morning, swinging her legs under the chair while drawing crooked flowers with pink crayons.
Ariana stood by the counter making tea. Roberto leaned against the doorway, pretending not to watch her.
But Zara watched both of them. A lot.
She tilted her head slowly, studying them the way children study puzzles.
"Mummy," Zara said suddenly, looking at Ariana.
"Yes, love?"
"You look… lighter."
Ariana paused. "Lighter?"
Zara nodded seriously. "Like when you stop holding your breath in water."
Ariana's throat tightened.
Roberto looked away, swallowing.
Zara then turned to him. "Daddy, you stopped frowning at her."
Roberto blinked. "I didn't know I was frowning."
"You were," Zara said confidently. "All the time."
Ariana smiled softly, tears threatening.
Zara climbed off her chair and walked between them, taking Ariana's hand in one of hers and Roberto's in the other.
"You both look like when Sofia and I make up after fighting," she said wisely. "Still careful. But not angry."
Roberto lowered himself to Zara's height. "Does that make you happy?"
Zara nodded eagerly. "Because when grown-ups are sad, the house feels cold."
Ariana knelt too, her voice barely above a whisper. "And now?"
"Now it feels warm again."
Roberto closed his eyes for a moment.
Ariana brushed Zara's hair back gently. "We're still learning, okay?"
Zara smiled. "That's okay. You're together while learning. That's the good part."
She hugged both of them at once, her small arms barely wrapping around their shoulders. They froze.
Then slowly, carefully, they hugged her back.
Roberto rested his cheek against Zara's head.
Ariana closed her eyes and in that quiet, innocent embrace, they both realized—
Love didn't need to be loud to be real.
Sometimes it just needed to feel like home again.
When the House Fell Quiet
Zara had already gone to her room, her laughter fading into the hallway like a warm echo.
The house grew still. Ariana stood by the window, arms folded loosely, watching the city lights blink like distant stars.
Roberto remained near the doorway, unsure how close he was allowed to stand now.
The warmth Zara had created lingered between them.
But so did everything they hadn't said.
"Ariana," Roberto finally spoke, quietly.
She turned to him.
"I don't want to keep pretending we're okay when we're just… careful."
Her chest tightened. "Careful is better than broken."
He nodded. "But it's not enough anymore."
Silence.
Then Ariana said softly, "You made me feel small when you called our marriage a contract."
Roberto winced. "I know."
"It felt like you erased every night I cried for you. Every time I chose you even when you didn't choose me back."
His voice trembled. "I said it because I was afraid you mattered more than I could survive."
She stepped closer. "I didn't want to matter less. I just wanted to matter honestly."
Roberto reached for her hand, slower this time, gentler.
"I don't know how to love without armor," he admitted. "But I want to learn. With you. Not against you."
Ariana's eyes shimmered.
"I don't want to fight you anymore, Roberto. I just want to be held without wondering if I'll be pushed away later."
He pulled her into his arms then — not tight, not desperate — just safe.
"I'm here," he whispered. "Not as your contract. Not as your obligation. As your husband… if you'll let me try again."
She rested her forehead against his chest.
"Try slowly," she whispered. "I'm still healing."
"So am I," he said.
And for the first time, neither of them felt alone in it.
Later that evening, they cooked together.
Nothing fancy. Rice. Soup. A simple dish Ariana always made when she didn't want to think too much.
Roberto washed vegetables beside her. Their shoulders brushed occasionally. Neither pulled away.
Zara came back into the kitchen in her pajamas.
"Are we eating together?" she asked hopefully.
Ariana smiled. "Of course."
They sat at the table — not perfectly aligned, not magically healed — but together.
Zara talked about her day. About Sofia. About a butterfly she saw. About nothing and everything.
Roberto listened more than he spoke.
Ariana watched him do it — truly present — and something inside her softened.
Halfway through dinner, Zara looked at them again.
"You're sitting closer today."
Ariana laughed quietly. "You notice everything."
Zara smiled. "I like this version of you both."
Roberto reached across the table and gently touched Ariana's fingers. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just there.
Ariana didn't pull away.
After dinner, Zara hugged them both again before going back to her room.
When the door closed, Roberto and Ariana remained at the table.
"I don't know what tomorrow looks like," Ariana said.
Roberto smiled softly. "But tonight looks like hope."
She met his eyes.
And for the first time in a long time— She believed him.