A sudden chill ran through me as I watched Maxwell's steady gaze, feeling the safety of his presence yet haunted by the shadow of the past that wouldn't let me go. "James being out," I whispered, my voice barely steady, "it terrifies me more than I ever expected it would."

Maxwell's hand found mine, gentle and warm, grounding me in the here and now. His quiet encouragement gave me the courage to open the door I'd kept shut for so long. I swallowed hard and started to speak, each word heavy but necessary.

"There were... three years," I said slowly, my fingers tightening around his, "three years that I want to forget, as if they were a nightmare that never actually happened."

We sat down on the edge of one of the unfinished couches. The house around us was silent, save for the faint creaks of settling wood, as if it too was holding its breath to listen. The weight of the space felt fitting-it was a new place, a blank slate, and maybe, just maybe, a place where my story could change.

I took a shaky breath. "I was trapped in a relationship that tore me apart, piece by piece. Not in the way people talk about in passing, but in the deep, cruel ways no one expects. James... he wasn't just controlling or possessive. He was... he was a nightmare."

My voice cracked, but I pushed on. "There was psychological abuse, constant manipulation, gaslighting... making me doubt everything I knew about myself. And the physical abuse-" I swallowed hard, "-he hurt me. More than I can ever explain."

Maxwell's hand tightened around mine. He didn't speak, just let me spill the truth I'd been holding back.

"That's why you've always been so careful when you touch me," I admitted, my eyes filling with tears again. "Why you go out of your way to make everything special, gentle, and safe. I never said it before, but I always felt bad. Like I was broken, like I wasn't normal. And you had to handle me with kid gloves because I was... fragile."

Maxwell's brow furrowed with pain, and a tear slipped down his cheek. "Amy, I'm so sorry. I never knew it was this bad."

I shook my head, tears now freely falling. "I never told anyone. I thought if I spoke it aloud, it would make it real. And I was scared of what that meant."

I paused, voice catching on a memory so raw it made my chest tighten.

"Do you remember that email I sent you two years ago? The one where I asked if Wellington still hated me?"

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving mine.

"Well..." I swallowed hard. "You answered. You said, 'I still do hate you.' But it wasn't because of me. It was because of James. He was jealous-terribly jealous-whenever my name came up. He was threatened by anything that made me... me. And so, I distanced myself. I had to. It was the only way I could survive."

I took a shaky breath, searching his face for any sign of judgment. There was none-only concern and sorrow.

"My friends," I continued, voice trembling, "they found me at the spring ball. I was curled up near the bathroom stall, trying not to cry, trying not to feel. I could hear their muffled voices-how worried they were. They helped me, Maxwell. They took me to the hospital. They made James confess. Alicia slapped him. They called the cops."

The memory hit me like a wave, and I had to close my eyes to stop myself from drowning in it.

"It was almost two months of hell," I whispered. "Two months of trial, of hearing my friends scream in court for me, of reliving every moment. Of therapy sessions where I had to face everything I wanted to bury. They took away my clothes, my dresses, my makeup-everything I loved, everything that made me me. I lost myself in that time. I didn't know who I was anymore."

Maxwell's eyes shone with tears. He pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was fragile glass. His voice was thick with emotion. "Amy, I'm so sorry you went through that. You deserved so much better. So much love and kindness."

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, the only sound anchoring me back to safety. "I've never told anyone everything," I admitted. "Not like this. It's hard, but... being here with you, it feels different."

He stroked my hair gently, whispering, "You're not alone anymore. Not now, not ever."

The vulnerability between us deepened, the weight of past pain mingling with a fragile hope. I felt like maybe, just maybe, this new chapter could finally be the beginning of healing.

Maxwell's arms wrapped around me tighter, and I felt the weight of all my fears begin to lift-like his very presence was a fortress shielding me from the darkness. My breath caught when he spoke, his voice soft but certain, as if he was sharing a secret he'd held onto for far too long.

"Amy..." he began, voice low and steady, "I love you. Not just the version of you that's here today, but every piece of you-the hurt, the hope, the strength you don't even realize you have."

I blinked up at him, overwhelmed by the honesty shining in his eyes, the kind of love that felt real enough to heal old wounds. His thumb brushed over my cheek, warm and tender.

"I've loved you for a long time," he confessed, "even before I knew what it was. Maybe I was too stubborn to say it at first, but I've never stopped. And I promise, Amy, I never will. I'll hold onto you tighter than anyone ever has-better than anyone ever could."

Tears blurred my vision, but this time, they weren't just from pain. They were from relief. From hope. From feeling seen in a way I never thought possible.

"You're stuck with me," he added with a cheeky smile, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. "No matter how many terrible hair days you have or how much we argue over how to make coffee every day. I'm not going anywhere."

I couldn't help but laugh-a light, genuine sound that felt like a breath of fresh air after years of suffocating silence.

"Really?Only if you admitted its better with two cube of sugar" I teased, brushing a stray strand behind my ear.

"Oh, absolutely not," he shot back, grinning. "But you know what? That's part of the charm. Keeps me on my toes. Plus, I like the challengeof telling that is too sugary" His eyes sparkled with mischief.

My heart fluttered, a sudden warmth blooming from the way he made me feel both adored and normal all at once. The way he turned my fears into something lighter, something I could maybe face.

I swallowed hard and whispered, "Still, I can't lie to you. I'm scared, Max. Scared that the past will catch up. That James will come back, and everything will fall apart again."

The playful glint in his eyes softened into something fierce and protective. "Not a chance," he said, voice low and steady. "If James even thinks about setting foot near you, I'll make sure he regrets it for the rest of his life. You're not alone anymore, Amy. I'm not just your boyfriend-I'm your personal bodyguard, your knight in ridiculously expensive armor." He smirked, adding, "And trust me, I'm way better at fighting than I look."

I smiled through my tears, the knot in my chest loosening. "So, no more bad dreams?"

"Not on my watch," he promised, brushing his lips over my temple with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, still holding my hands in his. "We have a long road ahead. But every step, I'll be there. No more secrets, no more hiding. You deserve that-deserve to feel safe and loved and cherished. And I'll spend every day making sure you do."

I felt a rush of gratitude and affection so intense it almost made me dizzy. "I want that too, Max. I want to believe in us. In a future where I'm not defined by my past, but by what we build together."

He grinned, that boyish charm lighting up his face again. "We so gonna built together everything"

I laughed, nudging him playfully. "I wonder what are you thinking"

"A house of course," he winked. "But also 3 kids and maybe 2 dogs."

I rolled my eyes but felt my heart swell with affection. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here I am. Your impossible guy."

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart-a rhythm that promised safety, love, and a fresh start.

Maybe this unfinished house, with its bare walls and empty rooms, was more than just a project. Maybe it was the beginning of something new for us-where pain could heal, love could grow, and secrets could finally fade into the past.

When we finally slipped beneath the soft, cool sheets, the day's weight still hummed faintly in my muscles, but there was a new kind of warmth radiating through me-something gentle, something fierce, something utterly unexpected. Maxwell pulled me close, his arms a quiet promise wrapping around me like a shield.

His fingers found my cheek, tracing slow, tender circles. The touch was light, soothing-like a whisper meant to lull me to sleep. But no matter how much I willed my eyelids to close, my mind stayed wide awake. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face, from the way his eyes softened when they landed on me, the subtle way his breath hitched when our skin touched.

I felt utterly seen, utterly loved-and it terrified and thrilled me all at once.

My heart pounded in my chest, the ache of longing growing stronger with every heartbeat. I couldn't stay silent anymore. I leaned up slowly and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips, soft and tentative, like a question.

"I want you to love me," I whispered, my voice raw with hope and vulnerability, barely daring to say it aloud.

Maxwell's eyes met mine, dark and fierce with understanding. His hand slid from my cheek to the nape of my neck, cradling me gently as he kissed me back. The kiss was slow, patient-like we were learning each other's language all over again. It was soft, sweet, and full of all the promises we hadn't dared say before.

But then, as if the floodgates opened, the softness between us began to melt into something hotter, more urgent.

His hands roamed my body with reverence, tracing the curves and edges as if memorizing every inch. Every touch sent shivers racing down my spine, every brush of his fingertips setting fire to my skin. I melted into him, my breath hitching as our bodies pressed closer, fitting together like puzzle pieces we'd always been meant to find.

The world outside the quiet room faded away-the unfinished house, the fears, the past-they all disappeared. There was only us, tangled in the sheets, voices reduced to whispered names and soft gasps.

His lips trailed down my neck, warm and teasing, sending waves of heat through me. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, hungry for more of that fierce, tender love. His hands slid beneath my shirt, fingertips burning like embers as they explored, as if every touch was a vow.

I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years-seen, cherished, desired. Every kiss, every sigh, every whispered promise was a step closer to healing the cracks I'd carried for so long.

Maxwell's voice was a low murmur in the dark, "You're mine, Amy. Always have been. Always will be."

And I believed him.

We moved together, slow at first, like a dance we'd been rehearsing forever but were only now learning the steps. The heat built, the air thick with the scent of skin and want and something deeper-something that said, no matter how dark the past, the future was ours to write.

Our kisses grew more urgent, our touches more desperate, until every barrier between us shattered. The night wrapped around us, the unfinished house standing silent witness to the love that was finally unfolding within its walls.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the half-finished windows. Maxwell's hands slid from my back to the small of my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. Our bodies pressed tight, the heat between us igniting with every shallow breath.

His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down my jawline, nipping gently at the sensitive skin beneath my ear. I shivered, the delicious ache spreading like wildfire as his tongue flicked teasingly, making my breath hitch. My fingers tangled deeper in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for the friction of skin against skin.

Our mouths met again-this time with more hunger, more need. His tongue parted my lips, exploring, tasting, coaxing me to surrender completely. The softness of his mouth against mine was electric, sending jolts of pleasure down my spine. I responded eagerly, matching his passion, my hands roaming freely over his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath my touch.

Maxwell's grip tightened around my waist, tilting me back gently as his body pressed against mine. The heat of him was overwhelming-solid and sure, yet tender and filled with a promise I could feel deep in my bones. Every kiss was a promise, every touch a confession.

His hands slid beneath my shirt, fingertips tracing fiery trails along my ribs, making my skin flush. I gasped softly, arching into him, wanting more-needing more. His mouth moved lower, planting heated kisses along my collarbone, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

I moaned quietly, my body aching to respond fully, to give myself over to the raw desire building between us. The tension coiled tight inside me, every nerve alight, every touch driving me wild.

Maxwell's voice was a low growl against my skin, "You're so beautiful."

I melted into him, every kiss, every touch, every whispered word stripping away the walls I'd built so carefully.

The room pulsed with a charged energy as Maxwell's hands roamed lower, fingers tracing the delicate curve of my hips with a fierce, possessive heat. His mouth claimed mine again, the kiss deepening into something urgent and wild-hungry, desperate, like a flame threatening to consume us both. Our tongues tangled, moving in sync with a passion that left me dizzy, breathless, craving more.

I pressed my body closer to his, feeling the solid strength of him against me. His hands slid beneath the fabric of my shirt, fingertips scorching as they explored every inch of my skin exposed beneath the thin material. A delicious shiver ran down my spine, igniting nerves I hadn't even known were waiting to be touched. I clung to him, fingers threading through his thick hair, pulling him deeper, inviting the fire to consume us both.

His voice dropped to a low, teasing murmur against my lips. "Ready?"

The words sent a thrill through me-half challenge, half invitation-and though surprise flickered, I could feel the wild pulse of excitement rising inside. The sparkle in his eyes, dark and playful, left no room to hesitate.

He shifted, pulling me into a rhythm that was slow and deliberate at first, every move measured and teasing. Our bodies swayed, pressing and sliding against each other, skin warming from the friction, breaths mingling in the tight space between us. His hands gripped my waist, fingers digging in just enough to leave a promise of something more, while his mouth traced fiery trails along my jaw, neck, and collarbone.

Then, as if flipping a switch, the tempo shifted-faster, fiercer, more urgent. It became wild and intoxicating, fiery- where every step was a push and pull of desire and surrender. Our bodies moved as one, perfectly matched in a rhythm of passion and longing.

Maxwell's lips found every sensitive spot, his touch setting off fireworks across my skin. I gasped, arching into him, lost in the heat of the moment-the delicious tension between pleasure and restraint. His hands explored, commanded, and worshipped, leaving trails of fire with every stroke.

Our breathing grew ragged, hearts pounding louder than the quiet night around us. The room seemed to shrink until nothing existed but the two of us-two souls tangled in a fierce, unyielding embrace. Each movement, each touch, each kiss was a promise-a confession of love, pain, forgiveness, and hope..

And in that heated moment, I knew with every fiber of my being that I was exactly where I was meant to be-in his arms, lost and found, consumed and cherished.