Chapter 29 ARTAN
ARTAN
The kitchen smells like coffee and bread, the scent rich and comforting in the morning air. Sunlight pours through the windows in long golden beams, warming the marble countertops until they glow like honey.
I stand at the stove, watching eggs cook in butter.
The pan sizzles softly, the sound steady and hypnotic.
Behind me, I can hear Lily moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency.
The soft clink of plates being set on the table.
The gentle splash of juice being poured into glasses.
Her movements are deliberate, careful, like she's thinking about each action before she makes it.
Erion sits at the table already, scrolling through his phone. His hair is still wet from the shower, dark strands curling slightly at his temples. He looks relaxed in a way I haven't seen in days. The tension that usually lives in his shoulders is gone, replaced by something looser. Easier.
Last night changed things. For all of us.
I woke up this morning with Lily in my arms, her body warm and soft against mine, her breath steady and gentle on my chest. The sunrise we watched together still sits in my memory like something sacred.
Something I don't have words for yet. Something I'm not sure I want to examine too closely because naming it might make it disappear.
Now we're here. The three of us. Learning how to exist in the same space after what happened. After the line we crossed. After the boundary we erased.
It's not tense. Not awkward exactly. Just new. Tentative. Like we're all feeling our way through unfamiliar territory without a map or compass. Testing each step before we commit our full weight.
I slide the eggs onto a plate, the yolks soft and golden. Turn off the heat. Carry the food to the table.
Lily is already sitting down, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug.
She looks tired but content, shadows beneath her eyes but a softness in her expression that wasn't there before.
Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid, blonde strands escaping around her face.
She's wearing one of my shirts, the fabric too big on her frame, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
The bruise on her neck is visible. Dark purple against her pale skin. The one I put there last night with my mouth and teeth and the need to claim something I have no right to claim.
Erion's mark sits on the other side. A mirror image. A twin declaration.
Neither of us comments on it. Neither of us needs to.
I sit down across from her. Pass the plate of eggs. She takes some and passes it to Erion.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while. The clink of forks against plates. The sound of coffee being poured. The morning settling around us like a blanket.
"When can Luan come home?" Lily asks. Her voice is soft, tentative, like she's afraid the answer might be bad.
I finish chewing before I answer. Take a sip of coffee to clear my throat. "As soon as we pack, we can pick him up at the clinic and head home."
"Is he okay? I mean, fully okay?"
The worry in her voice makes my chest tighten. Makes me reach across the table and take her hand. Reassure her with touch instead of words.
"The doctor said there's about ten percent left to improve. But now it's just time. No more procedures. No more interventions. Just healing."
Relief crosses her face like sunrise breaking over the horizon. She exhales slowly, her shoulders dropping, tension bleeding out of her body in a visible wave.
Erion sets down his coffee cup with a soft clink. "So he can see?"
"Yes. Not perfect yet. But functional. Good enough to navigate. Good enough to read faces and expressions. He'll keep improving over the next few weeks until he's back to normal."
The tension that's been sitting in all of us for days starts to ease. Slowly. Carefully. Like ice melting in spring. Like something frozen finally beginning to thaw.
Lily smiles. Small but genuine, her dimples appearing briefly. "That's good. Really good."
"It is," I agree.
Erion leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. "Ne fund. About fucking time."
The conversation shifts. Becomes lighter. Easier. The heaviness lifting degree by degree.
Lily and Erion start talking about their walk in Zurich yesterday. "I liked it a lot," Lily says. Her voice is warm, wistful, carrying affection for a place she barely knows. "Despite the circumstances. I'd like to come back someday. Just for vacation. When things are... normal."
"We can do that," Erion says. Like it's a simple thing. Like planning a vacation together is normal. Like this situation we've created has a future beyond the next week or month.
Maybe it does. Maybe we're building something here that can last.
Maybe I'm letting myself hope for things I shouldn't want.
Lily looks around the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the countertops, the stove, the windows overlooking the lake where the water sparkles in morning light.
"I'm going to miss this house," she says quietly. Almost to herself. "Especially this kitchen."
She stands up suddenly, crosses to the counter with quick steps. Then she spreads her arms wide and wraps them around the marble surface, pressing her cheek against it dramatically like she's embracing a lover.
Erion laughs. The sound is genuine, surprised, delighted. "You should be careful, bukuri. I'm getting jealous of a piece of marble."
Lily grins at him over her shoulder, mischief dancing in her blue eyes. "You'll have to fight the counter for me."
"I'll win."
"I don't know. It's very solid. Very dependable. Doesn't talk back."
"Neither do I when I'm busy doing other things with my mouth."
Heat floods Lily's cheeks immediately. Pink spreading down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of my shirt.
I shake my head, but I'm smiling too. Can't help it.
It's strange. This lightness. This ease. I'm not used to it. My life has been defined by duty and violence and the weight of promises I can't break. Moments like this, where laughter comes easy and the future feels possible, are rare enough to be precious.
But I don't hate it.
In fact, I want more of it. Want to protect it. Want to build a life where this feeling is normal instead of exceptional.
We finish breakfast slowly, savoring the last moments in this house before we return to reality. Clear the table together. Wash the dishes in a rhythm that feels almost domestic, almost like something permanent.
Then we go upstairs to pack.
I fold clothes methodically, each item creased and stacked with precision. Erion throws things into his bag without much care, efficiency valued over neatness. Lily moves between our rooms like a ghost, gathering the things Luan left behind before he went to the clinic. His shirts. His toiletries.
Within an hour, everything is packed. Bags lined up by the front door like soldiers waiting for orders.
The SUV arrives on time, tires crunching on gravel.
We load everything into the back in silence. Climb inside. The driver pulls away from the villa without a word, the house disappearing behind us.
I watch it go in the side mirror. The lake. The trees. The place where everything shifted. Where Lily became ours and we became hers.
Then I turn forward. Focus on what's ahead.
The clinic is twenty minutes away. The drive is smooth, the road winding through snow-covered landscape. Quiet settles over us. The hum of the engine fills the space, a low mechanical purr.
Nobody speaks. We're all lost in our own thoughts. Our own anticipation.
When we arrive, the driver parks near the entrance. We get out and stand together in the cold morning air, breath misting in front of our faces.
We wait.
Then Luan appears through the glass doors.
Walking on his own. No hesitation in his steps. No hand trailing along the wall for guidance. No careful measurement of distance.
His eyes are bright. Clear. Focused. The fog that's been clouding them for weeks is gone, replaced by sharp green that misses nothing.
He sees us immediately. His gaze moves from me to Erion, acknowledgment passing between us in a single glance.
Then his eyes land on Lily.
She doesn't wait. Doesn't hesitate. Just moves toward him quickly, closing the distance in seconds, her boots slipping slightly on the floor.
He catches her before she can stumble. Wraps his arms around her waist with sure strength. Lifts her slightly off the ground, her toes leaving the ground.
Then he kisses her.
Not gentle. Not restrained. Passionate and hungry and desperate. Like he's been waiting for this moment since the day he lost his sight. Like he's been dreaming of this. Starving for it.
When they pull apart, both breathing hard, Luan looks at her face. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin with reverent gentleness.
"You're beautiful," he says. His voice is rough, scraped raw with emotion. "E bukur. I already knew that. But now I can see it."
Lily blushes, pink spreading across her cheeks like watercolor. Her dimples appear when she smiles, deep and genuine.
Luan's thumb brushes over one of them. Then the other. Like he's memorizing the geography of her face. Committing every detail to memory so he'll never forget.
"Let's go home," he says quietly.
We all get into the SUV. Luan sits beside Lily, his hand finding hers immediately, their fingers lacing together like they were designed to fit that way. He doesn't let go. Doesn't look away from her.
The driver pulls away from the clinic, heading toward the airport where the private jet is waiting.
The mood is relaxed. Easy. Erion starts talking about a restaurant he wants to try back in Chicago, some place that serves traditional Albanian food the way his grandmother used to make it. Lily laughs at something he says, the sound bright and unguarded.
Luan is quiet. But there's contentment in his expression. Peace. The kind of peace that comes after long suffering. After darkness finally giving way to light.
For the first time in weeks, things feel stable. Like we might actually make this work. Like the impossible situation we've created might have a future.
Luan's phone pings.
The sound cuts through the conversation like a blade. Sharp. Intrusive. Wrong.
We all go quiet.
The automated voice announces the sender before Luan can silence it.
"Message from Driton Krasniqi."
Luan's entire body goes still. His jaw tightens. His hand squeezes Lily's unconsciously.
He stares at the phone screen. I can see the war happening behind his eyes. The calculation. The decision being made in real time.
He could ignore it. Could wait until we're home. Could keep Lily separate from this part of our lives for a little while longer.
But he doesn't.
His thumb moves. Taps the screen.
"Read message," he says.
The voice fills the car, flat and emotionless.
"Luan. I'm leaving New York now. I'll be in Chicago tomorrow. There are things we need to discuss. And I'm looking forward to meeting your fiancée."
The silence that follows is heavy. Oppressive. Like all the air has been sucked out of the vehicle.
Lily's hand tightens around Luan's, her knuckles going white.
Erion's relaxed posture shifts, tension creeping back into his shoulders like an old familiar coat.
Luan stares straight ahead, his jaw working, muscle jumping beneath skin.
I don't say anything. There's nothing to say yet. Nothing that will make this better or easier.
The fragile peace we built over the past few hours cracks.
Not broken. Not shattered.
But cracked.
And through that crack, the real world begins to seep back in.