Maddy
MADDY
T he first thing I notice when I wake up is Mihai’s warmth, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his chest rising and falling steadily against my back. The faint light of dawn filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow.
His scent—heady and comforting, with a hint of his cologne—surrounds me, and for a moment, I let myself relax completely.
Last night was… unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Mihai had pushed me, not in a way that hurt, but one that forced me to trust him completely. And I had. Every nerve in my body still feels electrified, hypersensitive to even the lightest touch, a lingering reminder of how thoroughly he unraveled me.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, and slip out of bed. My legs feel unsteady, every step making me hyper aware of the aftershocks of last night. My silk robe brushes against my skin as I make my way to the bathroom, and even that small sensation makes me shiver.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see someone different—someone Mihai has started to pull out of the wreckage I thought I’d become.
And I’m scared. Terrified, actually, of how easily I could lose myself in him, how much I want to.
I splash some water on my face, hoping it’ll cool me down, but it does little to stop the rush of thoughts in my head.
How did this happen? How did we happen?
When I return to the bedroom, Mihai is awake, propped up on one elbow. His curls are wild, his chest bare, and the lazy, sleepy smile on his face makes my stomach flip.
“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I reply softly, sliding back into bed beside him. The moment I settle, he pulls me close, his hand resting on my hip.
“You okay?” he asks, his thumb brushing against the silk of my robe. “How are you feeling?”
I look up at him, his concern evident in the way his brows knit together. “Sensitive,” I admit, my cheeks flushing. “But… good.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Good? After the way you fell apart last night, I’d say you’re underselling it.”
I swat his chest lightly, unable to hide my embarrassment. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying,” he teases, his hand sliding up to cup my face. “You were… incredible, . Trusting me like that. Letting me take you there.” His voice softens, his gaze turning serious. “I’ve never done that with anyone before.”
“Neither have I,” I whisper. “But with you… I felt safe. Like I could let go.”
He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “You can always let go with me, baby.”
We lie there for a while, the silence between us comfortable, until I notice the way his fingers are drumming lightly against my side. It’s a tell of his, I’ve learned—he’s working himself up to say something.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up slightly to look at him.
He hesitates, his jaw tightening for a moment before he exhales deeply. “I need to talk to you about something.”
My stomach flips at his tone as worry creeps in. “Is… is it bad?”
“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just… I’ve been holding onto this because I didn’t want to spring it on you, but now that we’re here…” He pauses, searching my face like he’s looking for reassurance.
“Mihai, just say it,” I urge, trying to keep my voice steady.
I watch him carefully, my heart pounding as he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words.
“,” he begins, his voice gentle but firm. “One of the reasons I brought you here to Bucharest… is to give you closure.”
“Closure?” I echo, my brow furrowing.
He nods, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “I’ve arranged a memorial for your mother and your sister.”
His words hit me like a freight train, and I feel myself slipping, the emotions I’ve been keeping at bay rushing to the surface all at once. I scramble out of the bed, the silk of my robe tangling around my legs as I stumble toward the door.
“, wait!” Mihai calls, his voice laced with panic, but I can’t stop. I can’t breathe.
I burst into the living room, clutching at my chest as I pace, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
I collapse onto the couch, my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face. The thought of saying goodbye to them, of finally admitting they’re gone, is too much. It feels like ripping open a wound that’s barely begun to heal.
I hear Mihai’s footsteps approach, and then he’s kneeling in front of me, his hands gently resting on my knees.
“,” he says softly, his voice steady. “Baby, I know this is hard. I know it hurts, but you need this. You deserve this and they deserve to be put to rest.”
I shake my head, unable to form words and he sighs, his hands moving to cradle my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are filled with understanding and it makes my chest ache even more.
“You can’t keep running from this,” he says gently. “You need to let yourself grieve.”
The sincerity in his voice breaks something inside me, and I sob, the sound raw and unrestrained. He sits down next to me and pulls me into his lap, holding me tightly as I cry, his hand stroking my hair and his lips pressing soft kisses to my temple.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Las? totul s? ias?, iubito. Sunt aici. Te-am prins.”
Let it all out, baby. I’m here. I got you.
I cling to him, my tears soaking his chest, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just holds me, his presence grounding me in a way I didn’t think was possible.
When my sobs finally subside, he pulls back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing away my tears.
“I know it’s scary,” he says softly. “But you won’t be up there alone. I’ll be right there with you, okay?”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. He watches me carefully, his dark eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to figure out what to say next. His thumb lingers on my cheek, tracing slow circles that are meant to soothe.
“You’re stronger than you think, ,” he says, his voice steady and low. “And I don’t mean the kind of strength that keeps you locked up tight, pretending nothing’s wrong. I mean the kind that lets you feel it all and still find a way to stand.”
I sniffle, wiping at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “What if I can’t do it?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “What if I can’t handle saying goodbye?”
Mihai shakes his head, his hands still on my face, holding me steady. “Then I’ll hold you through it. If you can’t stand, I’ll carry you. Whatever it takes, baby.”
The way he says it—like it’s not even a question, like it’s just a fact—makes something inside me crack wide open. I rest my forehead against his shoulder, and let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t know how to say goodbye to them,” I admit, my voice muffled against his chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You start by letting yourself feel it,” he says, his voice soft. “You let yourself grieve. You tell them everything you couldn’t before. And then, when you’re ready, you let them go. Not because you have to, but because they’d want you to.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. But instead of drowning, I feel myself start to surface, his steady presence like a lifeline pulling me back.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to be,” he says, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. “But you’ll get there.”
I nod slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. He brushes my hair back from my face, his fingers lingering in the strands as he studies me.
“You’re too good to me,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“Not possible,” he replies with a small, crooked smile. “If anything, I don’t deserve you.”
I let out a shaky laugh, the sound foreign to my ears after all the crying. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Yeah,” he says, his smile widening slightly. “But I’m your ridiculous.”
When I finally feel like I can breathe again, Mihai presses a kiss to my temple and shifts me off his lap, standing to stretch. I can’t help but look at the tattoos etched along his hips, and despite everything, my cheeks flush.
“I’ll make you some tea,” he says, walking toward the kitchen. “You need something to calm you down.”
I watch him go, the tension in my chest easing just a little at the sight of him moving around with that easy confidence I love so much. He grabs the kettle and sets it on the stove, his movements efficient but unhurried.
I get up and walk toward him, slipping my arms around his waist and leaning my cheek against his back.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and he glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“For what?”
“For… being here,” I murmur, kissing his back. “For… all of this.”
He smiles and turns around in my embrace, then he picks me up and places me on the marble counter.
“You don’t have to thank me for that, baby,” he says, holding my waist. “You’re mine to take care of. That’s just how it is.”
His words make my heart stutter, and I quickly look away, pretending to be interested in the floor. “You’re such a smooth-talking prat,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in my tone.
“You love it,” he teases, his grin widening.
I don’t respond, but the faint smile tugging at my lips gives me away. He brings the tea over a few minutes later, settling in between my legs again.
“We’re gonna get through this,” he says after a moment, his tone serious again. “You’re stronger than this pain, . I see it in you, even if you don’t yet.”
I look at him, his dark eyes steady and unwavering, and for the first time in a long time, I feel a glimmer of hope.
“I’ll try,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“That’s all I ask,” he replies, his hand finding mine. “Just try.”
And for him, for myself, I think I can.