Chapter 55 Neve
Neve
Atlas hadn’t let go of my hand as we walked down the quiet hallway. His grip was warm, steady, unyielding… the grip of the man who’d come to reclaim me.
My pulse jumped. My breath hitched. I felt like a skittish creature caught between terror and salvation, trembling between wanting to run and wanting to stay exactly where I was—held.
At the courtyard, Sister Ana waited beneath the archway, her posture serene, her expression soft with the kind of knowing that made my throat tighten. Her gaze flicked from Atlas to me, and her lips curved in a small, gentle smile.
“You found each other. As it was always meant to be.”
Heat crawled up my neck. Atlas didn’t look away from me when he answered.
“I’m taking her home.”
Home.
I had thought I’d carved a place for myself here, buried my grief and built a life out of silence and prayer. I had thought he was dead. I had thought the world had given me an answer. But now he stood beside me—alive, fierce, unmovable—and everything I’d tried to bury rose from the grave.
Sister Ana stepped closer and cupped my cheek with her cool hand.
“You are always welcome here,” she told me. “But you were never meant to stay hidden within these walls forever, Neve.”
My voice came out small. “I’m scared.”
Atlas’s hand tightened around mine—subtle but absolute.
“You don’t need to be.”
Sister Ana chuckled softly. “No, child. Don’t be afraid.”
I swallowed through the knot in my throat. “I will miss you.”
Her smile carried something ancient and tender. “And I will miss you. But God watches those who walk with purpose.”
She pulled me into her arms. She smelled of lavender and soft fabric, a heartbeat steady with wisdom I wasn’t ready to understand.
It felt like a blessing. It felt like a goodbye.
“Remember what I told you,” she whispered into my hair. “The world is not cruel. People are. But some people… some are worth the risk.”
When I pulled back, her eyes flicked to Atlas.
He stood rigid, jaw clenched, watching us with the restraint of a man holding back a storm.
He looked like he wanted to drag me out of here, throw me over his shoulder, and run.
But he stayed still—for me. And that almost broke me more than anything else.
When Sister Ana stepped away, Atlas closed the distance immediately. His hand hovered near the small of my back—not touching, but close enough that I felt the heat radiating from him, like gravity trying to claim me.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
No. Not even close.
But I nodded. “Yes.”
He released a breath—slow, shaky, like he’d been holding it for years.
We walked to the iron gate together. I paused, fingers brushing the cold metal. The path beyond stretched wide and uncertain. The world I feared. The world I thought stole him from me.
Atlas waited. He didn’t rush me. He just stood there, patient but tense, as if each second I hesitated clawed at him.
Finally, I stepped through.
He reached the car first, opened the door for me, then circled around and slid into the driver’s seat. For a moment, he didn’t move. He just looked at the windshield and took a breath.
Then he started the engine.
As we pulled away, the convent shrank in the rearview mirror—stone and ivy fading into nothing but memory. My heart folded in on itself, not with dread, but with the ache of leaving something safe behind.
The world ahead was huge and terrifying and unfamiliar.
But Atlas was beside me. One hand on the wheel.
The other reaching blindly across the console until his fingers found mine.
Our hands tangled together. His thumb dragged slow across my skin, gentle in a way that felt dangerous. A promise, quiet and intentional.
The road hummed beneath us—long, winding, unknown.
The real world hadn’t turned out the way I hoped… but as I sat there, with him, I felt the faintest flicker sparking back to life inside my chest.
Small.
Fragile.
Wild.
Hope.
It was alive.
Just like us.