Eliora woke slowly.
Not all at once but in fragments.
The first thing she noticed was the scent.
Roses.
Fresh, overwhelming, unmistakable.
Her lashes fluttered open, and for a brief, disoriented moment, she thought she was dreaming again caught between one of those silver-thread visions that had haunted her sleep and something far more vivid.
The room was transformed.
Petals carpeted the floor in soft shades of red and white, forming gentle paths that curved toward the windows where morning light spilled like a blessing. Tall vases of lilies and roses stood like sentinels at the edges of the room. Bouquets were everywhere on tables, beside the bed, arranged with reverence, not extravagance.
It felt like an arena.
Not for spectacle.
But for devotion.
Eliora pushed herself upright, her head aching faintly, her body heavy, memories swimming just out of reach. Confusion tightened her chest.
Then she saw him.
Alexander sat a short distance away, still dressed in the clothes from the night before. His posture was rigid, controlled only by sheer will. His eyes dark, bloodshot, relentless never left her face.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
Something in his voice made her heart stutter.
"What… where am I?" she asked, her throat dry.
"My home," he replied. "You're safe."
Safe.
The word unlocked everything.
The food.
The dizziness.
The man who wasn't Alexander.
The hotel door.
The fear.
Eliora's breath hitched violently as memory rushed back in a tidal wave. She clutched the sheet, panic flaring in her chest.
"I—" Her voice broke. "I thought I called your name"
"I know," Alexander said immediately, standing. He crossed the room in seconds, kneeling beside the bed, careful not to touch her without permission. "I heard you."
Tears streamed down her face now, unstoppable. "I didn't know what was happening to me. I couldn't move. I couldn't think."
"You don't have to explain," he said, voice low and shaking despite his control. "None of this is your fault."
She looked around again—at the flowers, the careful beauty, the effort it must have taken.
"You did all this… after?"
"Yes," he answered simply. "Because you woke up in terror. And I wanted you to wake up in love."
That broke her.
She covered her face, sobbing quietly as the weight of what almost happened crushed down on her chest.
Alexander lost his restraint then.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly protective, fierce, anchoring her to the present. His hand cradled the back of her head as if shielding her from the world itself.
"I almost lost you," he whispered, voice raw. "Do you understand what that did to me?"
She nodded against his chest, shaking. "I was so scared. And I was so stupid. I ignored you."
He lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Fear doesn't make you stupid. It makes you human."
She searched his eyes. "Why are you still here?"
The question cut deep.
"Because loving you isn't something I can undo," he said. "And because someone tried to hurt you."
Her blood ran cold. "Someone?"
His jaw tightened. "Emilia."
The name fell between them like shattered glass.
"No," Eliora whispered. "She wouldn't—"
Alexander stood.
The tenderness vanished—not replaced by cruelty, but by something colder. More dangerous.
"She paid someone," he said evenly. "She brought the food. She set the timing. She thought I wouldn't arrive in time."
Eliora felt sick.
"She smiled at me," she whispered. "She told me she was worried."
"That's how predators work," he replied. "They wear concern like a costume."
Eliora's hands trembled. "My mother…"
"She doesn't know yet," Alexander said. "But she will. With the truth. Not rumors."
He pulled out his phone not aggressively, but decisively.
"Emilia's lies end today."
The confrontation was quiet.
No shouting.
No chaos.
Emilia hadn't expected that.
She arrived later that afternoon, summoned under the pretense of concern. When she stepped into the room and saw Eliora sitting upright, wrapped in a soft robe, alive and alert, something flickered across her face.
Fear.
Alexander stood beside Eliora, unmoving.
"You failed," he said calmly.
Emilia scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he replied. "And so does the evidence."
Her smile faltered.
Eliora stood then, her voice shaking—but steady. "Why?"
The question was more devastating than any accusation.
Emilia's composure cracked.
"I was protecting you," she snapped. "From him. From his world. From becoming something you'd regret."
"You tried to destroy me," Eliora said softly. "That's not protection."
Alexander stepped forward, his presence eclipsing Emilia's completely.
"You will not speak to her again," he said. "You will not approach her. And you will never manipulate her family again."
Emilia's bravado collapsed under the weight of his certainty.
For the first time, she realized she had miscalculated.
Badly.
That night, Eliora sat among the flowers again, exhaustion finally settling into her bones.
Alexander knelt before her, taking her hands gently.
"I can't promise you a simple life," he said. "But I can promise you truth. Protection. And a love that doesn't disappear when things get ugly."
She squeezed his hands, eyes shining with tears that were no longer born of fear.
"I don't want simple," she said. "I want real."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
"So do I."
Outside, the city moved on unaware that inside that flower-filled room, something fragile had survived the fire.
Love had awakened.
And lies had finally begun to fall.