Chapter 52
It was late when the knock came.
I was already in my pajamas, curled up on the couch with a mug of tea that had gone cold an hour ago. The apartment was quiet, the tulips soft in the dim light, and I had been half-dozing, my mind drifting somewhere between sleep and waking.
I wasn't expecting anyone.
I padded to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.
Caspian stood in the hallway.
He looked like he had come straight from work. Black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair slightly messy like he had been running his hands through it. There were shadows under his eyes, but when he saw me, his whole face softened.
"Hey..." he said.
"Hey." I blinked, surprised. "It's late."
"I know." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I just... I wanted to see you."
My heart did something complicated in my chest.
"I missed you...." he said. The words came out quiet, almost reluctant, like he was admitting something he wasn't sure he was allowed to feel. "I didn't see you all day."
I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break across my face "You saw me yesterday."
"That's too long."
I laughed. He was being ridiculous. He was being soft. He was being everything I hadn't known I needed.
He looked down at his shoes, then back at me. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. For a moment, he looked almost nervous, like a boy trying to ask a girl to prom.
"I should let you sleep..." he said finally.
He started to turn away, reluctantly.
"Wait."
And he stopped instantly.
I bit my lip. "I... I need to go to the supermarket. I ran out of... something."
It was a lie. My refrigerator was full. But I didn't want him to leave. Not yet.
He turned back, his eyes bright.
"I can drive you."
"At this hour?"
"Any excuse to spend more time with you."
My face went warm. I looked down at my pajamas, the oversized t-shirt, the messy bun.
"I'm not exactly dressed for-"
"You look fine." His voice was soft. "You always look fine."
I paused for a moment pretending to think, then nodded.
"Let me grab a coat."
I pulled on a light jacket over my pajamas, slipped into my sandals, and walked out the door. He was waiting by the elevator, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on me.
The supermarket was nearly empty at this hour, just a few night owls and shift workers shuffling through the aisles. Caspian grabbed a cart and followed me as I walked toward the dairy section.
"You know what you need?" he asked.
"Uhm...Milk, eggs, bread?" I ticked them off on my fingers. "Maybe some fruit."
He nodded, steering the cart with ease. We moved through the aisles together, and it felt familiar, comfortable, like the old days in the small apartment. Except now, there were no secrets between us. No lies. Just him and me and the quiet hum of the refrigerators.
We turned down an aisle, and I stopped.
"Can you reach that?" I asked, pointing to a box on the top shelf. It was too high for me, and there was no one else around to ask.
Caspian stepped behind me. His chest pressed against my back, his arm reached up, and his fingers brushed the box easily. He was so close that I could feel his breath on my ear, warm and soft.
"Like this?" he asked, his voice low.
I swallowed. "Yes."
He handed me the box, but he didn't step back right away. He stayed there for a moment, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, close enough that I could smell his cologne, close enough that if I turned my head, my lips would brush his jaw.
"Here," he said, his voice low.
I took the box with trembling hands. "Thanks."
He didn't move right away. His hand lingered on the shelf, his body still pressed against mine, and I could feel the warmth of him seeping through my jacket.
"Cas...."
"Hmm?"
"You're standing very close."
"I know."
I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were dark, his lips curved in that infuriating half-smile. "You're impossible." I said.
"You've mentioned."
I ducked under his arm and walked toward the checkout, my face burning. He followed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
He paid. Of course he paid. I didn't even bother arguing anymore.
We walked back to the car, the bags swinging from his hands, the night air cool against my cheeks. He loaded the groceries into the trunk, then turned to look at me.
"Elera" he called and I looked up.
"Do you have some time?" He shifted his weight, almost nervous again. "I want to take you somewhere."
I thought about it. About the late hour, about my pajamas under my jacket, about the fact that I had work in the morning.
"Yes...?" I said.
He smiled. It was small and soft and made my chest ache.
"I'll come pick you up," he said. "Whenever you're ready. No rush."
He was different now. Softer. More open. He said things like "I missed you" and "you look fine" and "any excuse to spend more time with you."
Three days passed.
Anne didn't come to work. Someone said she had found a better job and left. I didn't ask questions. I didn't care. It was better this way. Easier.
Caspian and I fell into a rhythm. Breakfast in the mornings. Flowers on my desk. Walks home in the evening. He held my hand now. I didn't pull away.
On the third day, I decided I was ready.
I stood in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection, trying to decide what to wear.
I wanted something pretty. Something that made me feel like me.
Not the tired, heartbroken version of myself that had been shuffling through life for weeks.
The old me. The one who smiled without thinking and laughed without holding back.
I pulled out a sundress. White with little sunflowers printed all over it. I had bought it years ago and never worn it. It felt too young, too bright, too hopeful.
I put it on.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was light, the fabric soft, the hem brushing just above my knees. My hair was loose, falling in waves over my shoulders. My cheeks were pink. My eyes were bright.
I looked younger, brighter and prettier. Like someone who hadn't been broken.
I smiled at my reflection. Then I grabbed my bag and walked out.
He was waiting in front of my building, leaning against a car I had never seen before. It was low and sleek, the top down, the seats dark leather. A convertible. Of course he had a convertible.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, simple but fitted, the fabric pulling across his shoulders.
The zip of his collar was open just enough to show the glint of his sun pendant, the chain resting against his skin.
His sleeves were short, emphasizing his arms, the hard muscle, the tattoos that curled around his biceps.
He stood up straight when he saw me. For a moment, his arms started to open, like he was going to pull me into a hug, muscle memory, maybe, but then he stopped. He caught himself. He scratched the back of his head instead, looking almost shy.
"You look beautiful," he said.
My face went warm. "Thank you. You look... not terrible."
He laughed. It was a real laugh, low and warm, and it made my stomach flip.
He walked around the car and opened the passenger door for me. I slid inside, the leather cool against my legs, and I bit my lower lip to keep from smiling too wide.
He got in beside me, started the engine, and drove.
The city faded behind us.
Tall buildings gave way to open fields, green and gold under the afternoon sun. The road stretched ahead, empty and endless, and the wind whipped through my hair, pulling strands across my face.
He kept glancing at me, his eyes soft. "Are you cold?"
I shook my head. "I'm perfect."
He smiled and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my cheek for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned back to the road.
The fields grew wider. The trees grew taller. And then, in the distance, I saw it.
A huge estate. A castle, almost. Stone walls and tall windows and iron gates that looked like they belonged in a history book. The kind of place where royalty lived. The kind of place I had only seen in movies. The one where kings and royalty might live.
"Who lives there?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Caspian didn't answer. He just turned the wheel, guiding the car toward the gates.
My heart stopped.
The gates opened. They recognized his car.
I looked at him, then at the estate, then back at him.
He was the royalty, the prince.
I was Flynn Rider. The charming thief who had stumbled into a tower and fallen for the princess without knowing who she really was. He was Rapunzel. Hidden away from the world, full of secrets, waiting for someone to see past the walls.
The driveway was long, lined with trees, and the estate grew larger with every second. Stone and glass and history. It was massive. Beautiful. Intimidating.
I had never seen anything like it.
Caspian parked the car and turned to look at me.
"Welcome home." he said.
I stared at him. At the man who had slept on my too-small couch. Who had cooked breakfast in my too-small kitchen. Who had filled my tiny apartment with tulips and followed me home every night just to make sure I was safe.
This was his world. And he was bringing me into it.
I didn't know what to say.
So I just smiled, and let him take my hand.
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