48. Chapter 39
Z asha
Her skin is still warm against mine.
The soft rustle of sheets is the only sound in the room, our breathing now slow and steady, laced with the afterglow of what just passed between us.
Mara is curled into my side, her head on my chest, fingers tracing slow circles over my ribs.
I hold her like I’ve waited three goddamn years to do it—because I have.
And still, a small part of me can’t believe she’s here. That I’m not waking up in another nightmare where I find out she’s still gone. Still unreachable.
But she’s here. And I need her to know everything.
I shift gently, pressing a kiss to her temple before sliding out from under the sheets. She watches me without saying a word, propped up on her elbow now, eyes heavy but curious.
I walk to the drawer in the far corner of my room—the one I’ve avoided for too long and open it.
My fingers hover for a moment before I pull it open.
Inside lies a small velvet box and a plain gold ring.
The sight punches something deep in my chest. I take both out, close the drawer with my hip, and walk back to her.
Mara sits upright when she sees what I’m holding. Her brows pinch slightly. “What’s that?”
I sit at the edge of the bed, facing her.
“I was going to give this to you three years ago,” I say, holding up the box. “That night. Before everything went to hell. I’d planned to take you to dinner… tell you how I really felt. About us. About what I wanted.”
I pop the lid open. Inside, nestled in the velvet, lies the diamond bracelet. Silver links woven with thin rows of shimmering white stones—simple, elegant, feminine. Exactly like her.
She covers her mouth, stunned. “Zasha…”
“I ordered it days, weeks before. Knew immediately I saw it that it was yours,” I say quietly. “I wanted that night to be the start of something real.”
I take her wrist gently and fasten it on her.
The clasp clicks shut with finality.
Her breath shudders, but her fingers remain still under mine. She stares at the bracelet, then lifts her eyes to meet mine. “It is stunning.”
“I kept this in that drawer like a fucking time capsule,” I murmur. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away… and I couldn’t give it to anyone else. It was always yours.”
She touches the diamonds like she’s trying to feel if they’re real.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
There’s a long silence. I let her sit with it. Let the air thicken around us, not rushing this moment.
Then, I reach over and pick up the second item.
The gold band.
Her wedding ring.
Her eyes widen, and she swallows hard.
“I kept this too,” I say, turning it over in my fingers. “You slipped it off the day you left.”
She looks down, shame flickering through her expression.
Her voice is hushed when she finally speaks.
“I didn’t want to go with it because when we were married, I always saw it as a symbol that I was finally yours.
Even when I was scared of what I felt for you, it was the only thing that made me feel like I belonged here. ”
“And when did it stop?” I ask gently.
“When I thought I didn’t belong to you anymore,” she says, voice cracking.
I look at the ring. Then at her.
“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what happened with Cristóbal. Your father said you guys got married.”
She nods slowly, like she knew this moment would come.
“I married him under pressure,” she says, staring down at the bracelet. “He manipulated me, claimed it was the only way for me to protect Maksim. He said if I didn’t marry him, he’d take Maksim anyway. I thought—” Her voice breaks. “I thought it was the only way out.”
Fury burns behind my eyes, but I keep it under control. I reach for her hand again.
“I knew something was wrong the moment I heard about it,” I tell her. “But I didn’t know how deep it went.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder,” she whispers. “I was afraid.”
“You survived,” I murmur. “You protected our son. That’s fighting harder than most people ever could.”
She exhales, but the pain in her eyes is still there. Then I say what I’ve been holding onto.
“The thing is… that marriage you had with Cristóbal? It doesn’t count.”
She looks up at me, startled. “What?”
“I never signed the divorce papers,” I tell her. “I had them. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let go of you. I didn’t know where you were, but I knew that if I ever found you again, I wanted to be your husband. Not just on paper.”
She stares at me like I’ve hit her with a tidal wave.
“You’re lying,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “No. I still have the documents. Untouched. You and Cristóbal got married while still legally married to me. It’s not valid.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and her face crumples. Not in pain—but in something like relief. Like validation. She shifts forward and wraps her arms around me, pressing her lips to mine in a soft, desperate kiss.
It’s not like the others we’ve shared. This one is slow, reverent, full of things we haven’t said aloud yet. Her tears wet my cheek, but I don’t pull away. I deepen the kiss instead, cradling the back of her neck.
When we finally part, she rests her forehead against mine.
“You mean I’ve still been yours all this time?” she whispers.
I nod. “If you want to be.”
“I never stopped,” she says, voice trembling. “Not really. Even when I hated you, even when I left… it still felt like I was yours.”
I close my eyes, emotion rising too fast for me to cage.
I pull her back into my arms and press a kiss to her shoulder. “Then let’s make it real this time. Not for show. Not for politics. Just you, me, and Maksim. A family.”
She nods, trembling against me.
And in this quiet room, in the place where everything once ended, I feel something new taking root.
Something real, and definitely something permanent.