Chapter 25: His First Smile
The hospital garden was quiet, kissed by the gold of late afternoon sun. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the hedges lining the cobblestone path. Kairo sat in a wheelchair, draped in a light grey blanket, his features thinner now, his skin pale—but he was awake, breathing, and alive.
Elián knelt beside him, adjusting the blanket as if it were made of glass. "Are you cold?"
Kairo shook his head slowly. "No. Just... strange being outside again."
"It's been two weeks," Elián said softly, standing and brushing his palms against his pants. "You're getting better."
Kairo turned his face toward the sky, eyes fluttering closed. "I don't feel like I deserve to be."
Elián's breath caught, but he said nothing.
The nurse had warned him that guilt often followed recovery. But Elián hadn't expected Kairo's silence to be so heavy, or his eyes to be so distant. He often stared past Elián like he was scared of seeing him, or scared he might disappear again.
"You do," Elián finally said. "You deserve to live, Kairo. Even after everything."
Kairo's jaw clenched. "I was cruel to you. I threw you to the wolves. I defended the wrong person. I saw you break, and I didn't stop."
Elián knelt again, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"And you nearly died for it. That's enough punishment, don't you think?"
Kairo's lips trembled.
"I stayed because I wanted to," Elián added, quieter now. "Not because you deserve forgiveness... but because I wanted to forgive you."
Tears welled in Kairo's eyes, and for the first time since waking, his hand reached out—not hesitantly, not in weakness, but in hope. Elián met it halfway, and their fingers laced.
"I don't know how to love you right," Kairo confessed, voice shaking. "But I want to learn. If you'll let me."
Elián nodded, then leaned in and rested his forehead against Kairo's.
"You already are."
—
Three days later, Kairo was strong enough to stand with a cane. The private rehab wing had better food, better privacy, and a bed that didn't beep. Elián helped him walk from the bed to the armchair, step by slow step.
"You're improving," Elián said, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and pouring water for him.
Kairo took a sip, then glanced at him. "You've become... softer."
Elián raised a brow. "Softer?"
"I mean," Kairo coughed, wincing, "not weak. Just... gentler. More patient. It's like... something changed in you."
Elián shrugged, placing the cup aside. "Maybe watching the man I once hated fight for his life softened me."
Kairo gave him a look. "Ouch."
Elián smirked. "You earned that."
Kairo smiled—small, uncertain, but real.
And that was the moment Elián froze.
It was Kairo's first real smile.
Not the cold, corporate smirk he gave in meetings. Not the bitter twist of lips that he'd once used to push Elián away. This was genuine. Boyish. Awkward even.
"You smiled," Elián whispered, eyes wide.
Kairo blinked. "What?"
"You smiled. Like, actually smiled."
Kairo flushed, looking away. "I do smile."
"Not like that."
Kairo glanced back at him. "You make me want to."
And that shut Elián up completely.
—
Later that night, Kairo asked for a comb.
Elián helped him sit up, gently running the comb through his hair. His fingers brushed lightly through the dark strands, and for a moment, it felt like a dream. A quiet, vulnerable domestic moment in the same man who had once shoved him away.
"Did you mean what you said?" Kairo asked suddenly.
Elián paused. "About?"
"About forgiving me."
Elián nodded. "Every word."
Kairo's voice was hoarse. "And the part where you said you loved me?"
Elián's hand stilled. His eyes met Kairo's in the mirror.
"I did," he said. "I do."
Kairo turned to face him fully. His eyes were glassy, wide, terrified like someone who'd never been told they were loved and didn't know what to do with the knowledge.
"I love you too," he whispered. "I've just... I've never said it to anyone before. Not even—"
"Don't," Elián said gently, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't bring him into this moment."
Kairo nodded, guilt flickering but not devouring him this time.
Then Elián leaned in and kissed his forehead.
"We'll build something new. From scratch. No lies. No third parties. Just us."
Kairo exhaled. "Can we...?"
"We can," Elián assured, stepping back. "But you're not allowed to crash another car."
Kairo chuckled, his ribs protesting. "Deal."
—
The next day, Kairo received a letter.
His assistant had delivered it, face pinched and unreadable. Elián sat beside him as he opened it slowly, his fingers trembling.
It was from his ex.
A single page. No apology. No remorse. Just bitterness.
"I hope Elián was worth it. I heard he played nursemaid while you almost died. Let's see how long he lasts when you get bored again."
Kairo tore the letter in half before he finished reading.
"Don't even look at it," he said sharply, eyes blazing.
Elián blinked. "I wasn't going to."
Kairo shook his head, voice low and fierce. "You were worth more than all the years I wasted on him. He didn't break me the way I thought he did. But you—Elián—you made me whole again."
And in that moment, Elián believed him.
Kairo looked up. "I want to take you home. When I'm discharged. Not to the penthouse—not to where we were. Somewhere new."
Elián tilted his head. "Like a fresh start?"
"Exactly that."
—
They found it two weeks later—a quiet townhouse just outside the city. With a garden. A white porch swing. Too many rooms for two people.
But it was perfect.
Kairo leaned heavily on Elián's side as they stepped into the house for the first time together, their luggage wheeled in behind them.
"It smells like lavender," Elián said, wrinkling his nose.
Kairo looked at him. "You hate lavender?"
"No. It's just... surprising."
"I wanted it to smell like peace."
Elián looked around, then nodded. "Well... it does."
—
That night, Kairo stood on the porch, watching the stars, arms wrapped around himself. Elián joined him in silence, resting his head on Kairo's shoulder.
"I don't know what kind of husband I'll be," Kairo said after a while.
Elián smiled faintly. "A learning one."
"And you? What kind of husband will you be?"
Elián leaned into him. "A forgiving one."
Kairo turned, touching his forehead to Elián's.
"I promise to do better. To be better. For you."
Elián cupped his cheek. "We'll do better together."
Then they kissed—not out of apology, or passion, or desperation.
But out of hope.
Out of beginning.
---