The apartment felt too quiet.
The kind of silence that suffocates. Hazel stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the door Aiden had disappeared through. Her hands were trembling. She didn't know if it was anger, heartbreak, or both.
Michael lingered by the window, his silhouette sharp against the city lights. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Hazel broke the silence. "I don't even know where to start."
Michael turned slowly. His face was unreadable — the same mask he wore in board meetings, when he was playing chess with powerful men and always thinking ten moves ahead. But his eyes… his eyes were different now. Tired. Frayed.
"You don't have to start anywhere," he said quietly.
Hazel let out a humorless laugh. "That's the problem with you, Michael. You think avoiding it makes it disappear."
"I didn't avoid it," he said, his voice low. "I protected you."
"Protected me?" she shot back, anger flaring. "By what — hiding that my brother was selling out your company? Letting me parade him around this place while you knew the truth? Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?"
Michael's jaw clenched. "I wasn't trying to humiliate you."
"You were trying to control the fallout. Like always."
That landed.
His face hardened, but then something cracked beneath the surface. "Maybe I was," he admitted. "Because that's what I do, Hazel. I fix things. I don't fall apart, I don't show weakness, and I sure as hell don't drag people I care about into the fire."
Her heart stuttered at those words. "Care about?"
He stepped closer. "Yes. Care about. Want. Need. Whatever you want to call it."
Hazel's throat tightened. "Then why does it feel like you're always holding back? Like you're only half in this marriage."
Michael reached for her, but she took a step back. "Hazel…"
"I can't keep loving a man who won't let me in."
His hand dropped to his side. "And I can't lose the only person who's made this cold, empty place feel like home."
The words hung between them, raw and heavy.
Hazel felt tears sting her eyes, but she didn't look away. "Then show me. Not just when it's convenient, not when it makes sense on a contract, not because our parents decided this was a good idea. Show me you want me."
Michael's throat worked. "I do."
"Prove it."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Michael crossed the room in two strides, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Like a man who'd been starving for something he was too afraid to ask for.
Hazel clung to his shirt, kissing him back, and for the first time in weeks — maybe since the day they married — she felt like they were both choosing this. Not because they had to. Because they wanted to.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and shaky, Michael whispered against her lips, "I'm sorry. For all of it."
Hazel rested her forehead against his. "We're not okay yet. But maybe… we could be."
He nodded. "Whatever it takes"....