[REBECCA]
Three weeks had passed since that pivotal moment. Artemy’s arm drew me toward him, enveloping me until I was nestled against his warmth, almost melding into him. His strong arms encircled my waist, and I pressed myself against him, my head finding its place on his shoulder. As if seeking solace, one of my legs draped over his hips, and his grip on my thigh was both firm and possessive.
In the cocoon of his embrace, I inhaled his scent, the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat serenading me. His touch traced indistinct patterns across my back, each stroke a balm to my senses, lulling me into tranquility.
Amid this intimate connection, his voice, a soft caress, brushed against my ear, breaking the spell of silence. “Where shall we journey for our honeymoon?” His words, as tender as a breeze, hung in the air.
Yearning to draw even closer, I shifted toward him, my form aligning with his contours. With my ear resting upon his chest, I murmured my response, my words a hushed confession carried on the current of his steady heartbeat. “To the beach house.”
The effect was immediate, an unanticipated tensing beneath me, his body responding to my declaration. I understood his reaction well, yet the decision was resolute within me. I had to take this step, to move forward.
His once-relaxed demeanor seized, his whole being seemingly arrested by my statement. The grip of his fingers on my hip tightened, a reaction that caused me to wince and shift within his hold.
Attempting to bridge the gap, to convey my intentions, I began, “Artemy-” But before I could utter another word, a deep, growling interjection cut through, a manifestation of his frustration and protest.
“We shall not revisit that place,” he declared vehemently, his tone a clash of emotions, the tension within him palpable. A battle waged within him, an attempt to control the tide of feelings cascading forth.
Though he sought to maintain restraint, the veneer was slipping, fraying at the edges. My resolve remained unshaken. “But-” I initiated, only to be met with a curt interruption, a fierce and frustrated syllable that held no room for compromise.
His withdrawal was swift, a repositioning that had me beneath him, his form dominant and commanding. My wrists were enveloped by his hands, drawn above my head, a posture that spoke of his urgency to direct the conversation.
“Rebecca,” his voice resonated, firm and unyielding, a tone that bore the weight of his determination. “The beach house is not a consideration. We shall not entertain this notion further.”
Glimpses of tension played across his features, etching lines of conflict around his eyes and forehead. My heart ached, witnessing the torment in his cerulean gaze, the storm of emotions swirling within them.
In spite of the intensity of his resolve, I persisted, yearning for mutual understanding. “Artemy,” my voice, a gentle plea, sought to bridge the gap between us. He was already shaking his head, a gesture that spoke volumes before my words even left my lips. Nevertheless, I pressed on. “Please, grant me this. I need to embark on this journey, to take this step. It’s a crucial juncture for me to move forward. The beach house, you acquired it for me, didn’t you?”
The tension within him found expression in the clenching of his jaw, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. Finally, he yielded, albeit begrudgingly. “Yes,” his response, curt and weighted, hung in the air.
With this small opening, I gently extricated my wrists from his grasp. Instead of pulling away, I drew him nearer, my touch grazing his stubbled cheek. “Then, I must insist on this choice. You cannot impede me. It’s imperative, Artemy. I need to confront my past, to forge ahead. If I forever cower and remain shielded, how will I confront the specter that haunts me? The pain, the memories, they cut short our happiness. We deserve to embrace life fully.”
My voice wavered, tears threatened, yet I pressed on, determined to convey the depth of my convictions. “I want to return, to face it head-on, with you by my side. I know you’ll support me, cradle me when I falter. We mustn’t be paralyzed by our past. Artemy, we must evolve.”
My fingers traversed his features, tracing his contours with tender reverence as I leaned in to brush my lips against his. “This is my battle, a war against the remnants of my past. The one who inflicted pain is gone, but his legacy lingers. The nightmares resurface, threatening to drown me. Yet, you’ve always been my anchor, pulling me from the abyss. Now, I need to stand against him. To do so alongside you, my unwavering ally. We must press forward, transcending the shadows. This is my decree.”
Silence stretched between us, his throat worked, a silent struggle for words evident in his gaze. Anger and hurt mingled, tumultuous emotions dancing in his eyes, unspoken.
In this intimate exchange, emotions bared and convictions affirmed, our journey continued.
“I’m pleading with you to allow me this chance. The longing to return to the beach house is overwhelming me. This time, I believe it will be a new experience, one filled with happiness,” I whispered, my words mingling with the touch of his lips.
He emitted a low, pained sound, his forehead gently pressing against mine as he shut his eyes. Encircling him with my arms, I held him close, absorbing the waves of his anguish that seemed to flow into me.
The prospect of revisiting that place, it wasn’t going to be easy for either of us.
“Angel,” his voice brushed against me like a feather, barely audible.
I traced his back with a soothing motion, patiently awaiting his consent. Eventually, he opened his eyes, though his forehead remained nestled against mine. His lips twisted in a mixture of reluctance and disdain as he responded. “Very well. We’ll go back. But I insist on keeping you within my sight every single moment. It’s going to be chaotic, perhaps maddening. Yet, for the sake of my own sanity, Rebecca… for heaven’s sake, you must not leave my presence.”
I comprehended his internal struggle, his lack of desire to yield to my request. However, circumstances didn’t allow him much choice. Our honeymoon was destined to take place at the beach house.
“Thank you,” my heart soared with gratitude and affection for this man beside me. “I’ll remain within your view. You might just have to accompany me to the bathroom as well.”
His lips quirked, and I suppressed a laugh. “You’re quite the challenge, Rebecca.”
“Yet you adore me,” I countered, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
Artemy’s mouth brushed mine as he responded. “Immeasurably.”
Then, he sealed my lips with his, a kiss profound, breath-stealing, and utterly without sense.
***
I stirred from slumber to find the bed’s warmth missing. Artemy’s absence was palpable, his spot already turned frigid beside me.
After freshening up, I embarked on a quest to locate Cevia. Eventually, my search led me to Lynda’s chamber.
There they lay, nestled on Lynda’s bed Lynda cradling Princess against her chest, the scene an embodiment of tender sweetness. It was heartwarming yet bittersweet, for Lynda should have been cradling her own baby in such a manner. But destiny had dealt her a different hand, leaving her only with Cevia.
My eyes welled with tears as I lingered, witnessing their quiet bond. With a heavy heart, I softly shut the door, granting them their intimate moment.
Damian’s office was my next destination. A gentle rap on the door, and I heard his invitation to enter. Stepping in, I found Howard there as well.
Engrossed in conversation, their tete-a-tete halted upon my entrance. Their faces lit up with smiles as I approached.
“Rebecca,” Damian acknowledged, his voice brimming with warmth.
Returning his smile, I nodded before Howard enfolded me in his embrace. A loving squeeze and a step back, and Damian took his place.
Observing Damian’s transformation from stern enmity to fatherly affection was a surprise. These past months had wrought a remarkable change. Together with Howard, they played the roles of impeccable grandfathers, a support system for Cevia.
It underscored that even the coldest hearts could harbor warmth. I would never have conceived that I’d find solace and familial love amidst former adversaries. Yet, here I was, sharing life and affection with them.
Howard’s voice broke the reverie, “What brings you here?”
“I sought Damian’s counsel. I hoped you wouldn’t mind,” I began gently, gauging Damian’s reaction.
“Of course. What is it?” Damian inquired, settling behind the desk.
I began to speak, then hesitated, my voice evading me. What I longed to express had simmered within, but articulating it now was an arduous task.
My throat bobbed, wrestling with nervousness. They waited, their gazes unwaveringly fixed on me.
After a moment’s silence, I gathered courage. “Howard is to walk me down the aisle tomorrow,” I murmured, glancing at Howard. His grin radiated pride.
It was unquestionably his privilege, a dream unfolding. Yet, another deserved this moment too.
A joy pilfered from him years ago, never to be regained. My gaze shifted to Damian. “But I want you to walk me down the aisle as well. Both of you.”
Damian’s astonishment was palpable. A hush settled over the room, filled only by our breaths.
“You want me to walk you down the aisle?” he uttered, wide-eyed and incredulous. “But-”
Cutting him off, I intervened, “This is my wish, Damian. I may not be your biological daughter. I may not be your princess. Yet, just this once, I want to gift you this moment. Both you and Howard deserve it.”
Howard’s hand pressed against his chest, his anguish perceptible. He lowered his gaze, mirroring the emotions etched on Damian’s face.
“So, will you?” I implored. “Will you walk me down the aisle with Howard?”
Damian gazed at me, then shook his head. Disappointment gripped me, my palms turning clammy. Fidgeting with my dress, I sought to steady my breathing.
“Where did you even come up with this?” he chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips.
Damian rose, his chair scraping back. He rounded the desk and embraced me, murmuring, “It would be my honor.”
Tears blurred my vision, and I returned his embrace. “Thank you,” I whispered through choked sobs.
Stepping back, I turned to Howard, enveloping him in a hug. “Thank you for being my father, for choosing to walk me down the aisle. I’m eternally grateful.”
Howard patted my back, clearing his throat. Both men wore small smiles, a tender pride in their eyes.
I felt my smile broaden, transforming into a giggle. “Artemy would find this amusing if he saw you now.”
Their smiles vanished, expressions darkening. “Absolutely not,” Damian muttered. “If a word reaches him…”
I clamped my lips shut, suppressing my laughter.
“Off you go now,” Howard ushered me out.
Laughter bubbled from me as I exited, accompanied by a symphony of curses echoing behind the closed door.