The master bedroom was spacious, its furniture beautifully carved from dark wood. But the only thing Cecilia saw was the enormous bed. Her legs trembled as a shiver of anticipation coursed through her belly.

Victor took a while to join her, so she stepped out onto the balcony to admire the vast land surrounding their home. She’d have to tell him she wanted to visit the lake she could just barely see from there. Returning to the room, she walked to the wardrobe and found the clothes Victor had mentioned. There was no mush there, only some pants, two blouses, and a t-shirt.

She picked a cotton t-shirt and sweatpants because she felt she needed a change of clothes to feel refreshed and more comfortable. She started changing by taking off her jeans, and as she slid them off, she suddenly felt eyes on her. Turning, she saw Victor standing in the doorway, staring at her with open hunger.

Her face flushed crimson.

Victor had seen her naked countless times, but with all the missing memories and the way he looked at her, mouth slightly open, as if to breathe more easily, it felt like the first time again.

Trying to act natural, she pulled on the sweatpants, snapping the waistband, and stripped off her shirt. She walked to the bed and climbed onto it, then motioned for Victor to join her. But he wasn’t looking at her hands; his eyes were fixed on her chest. More specifically, on the engagement ring hanging from her necklace.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," he said, inhaling deeply. "Don’t push yourself. You’re still recovering."

Cecilia blushed and pulled the new shirt over herself. She was about to make a cheeky comment about how Victor hadn’t been thinking about her recovery in the limo, but he silenced her with a sharp look, like he could read her mind and was warning her not to go there.

"Are you hungry? I asked my assistant to stock the pantry before we arrived."

"Yeah. I’ll help you make something light. I’m sick of hospital food." She started to get up, but Victor stopped her.

"I’ll handle it. You just rest."

"Okay. Thanks." She flopped onto the bed. If he wanted to do all the work, she wasn’t about to argue.

As Victor walked away, her playful expression faded. In some ways, he was still the Victor she remembered: intense, serious, emotionally guarded. These days would be hard if he kept holding back the truth about their relationship while expecting her to remain celibate and only saying he loved her when he thought she was asleep.

When Victor returned to the bedroom with food, plates, and cutlery, Cecilia tried to joke and laugh, pretending she felt fine so he’d stop worrying. Eventually, she didn’t have to pretend. Just being near him always made her feel better.

"Tomorrow, we’ll go buy you new clothes," he said, sipping his juice.

"What happened to my luggage?" she asked, nibbling on a roll.

"You don’t have any. The last place we were in was cold. None of your clothes were fit for here, so you donated everything."

"I donated it?" That didn’t sound like her. Not because she was selfish, but because she’d never had enough to donate more than a too-small coat or a can of soup. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined being so well-off that giving away an entire wardrobe was an option.

Victor spoiled her too much.

"Alright then. But where will we go? I didn’t see a single house for miles."

"There’s a village just past the hill. Ten minutes away by car. We didn’t drive through it earlier because it’s on the other side."

After they finished eating, they set the dishes aside and cuddled up. Cecilia yawned.

"You haven’t been sleeping well," Victor murmured, holding her from behind.

"I’ve been sleeping all day."

"You’re still recovering. Don’t overdo it."

Cecilia narrowed her eyes and laced her left hand with Victor’s right. Studying their fingers, she sighed. "I’ve aged so much," she said suddenly, earning a confused glance from Victor. "I’m twenty-seven now."

"Oh yes, so ancient," he said dryly.

"You don’t get it. A few days ago, I was nineteen. Now I’m suddenly twenty-seven."

"If you think you’re old, what does that make me? You remember I’m older than you, right?"

"Yeah, but it’s not the same. You look…" She wanted to say like a literal snack, but held back. Victor had already shut her down once, and she didn’t feel bold enough to try seducing him again. "Great. And you smell amazing." She leaned in, took a playful sniff, and then went for his ear, trying to nibble it.

Okay. Maybe she felt bold enough after all.

“Ceci—” Victor tapped her nose gently with his fingers, stopping her. “You need to rest.”

Cecilia let out a frustrated growl. “Fine, you win,” she muttered, flopping back onto the bed. After a pause, she looked up at him and added softly, “But… will you stay with me? Please?”

Victor smiled, indulgent and tender, then lay down beside her. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in.

“I’ll stay with you. Forever. Don’t worry. I’m never letting you go.”

As he spoke, Victor tightened his arms around her, not enough to hurt, but enough to let her feel it. Enough to let her know how scared he’d been.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, guilt tightening her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you with the accident. I swear, I’ll be more careful. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not letting you drive ever again,” Victor replied softly, with the faintest trace of a teasing smile in his voice. “And like I said—I’m never letting you go.”

Then he hugged her even tighter.

“Ouch, okay, now you’re actually hurting me,” Cecilia laughed, half complaining, half grateful for the closeness.