CHAPTER 422: REUNION

KAEL

The sound of her crying didn’t just break me. It unmade me. Each ragged, wet gasp was a fault line splitting through the foundation I’d tried to rebuild without her.

And then, impossibly, it was the only thing putting me back together.

Aria.

She was here. Her weight against my chest, the scent of her hair... real. Not a ghost I’d chased in my sleep. Not a hallucination born of grief and sleep deprivation. Solid. I crushed her against me, my face buried in the curve of her neck, and inhaled like a dying man taking his first breath of air. I had been suffocating. For weeks. For a lifetime.

A hot, sharp pressure built behind my eyes. I tried to choke it back, to be the stone wall I was supposed to be, but it was useless. A tear fell, then another, scalding tracks against my skin, soaking into her hair. I was crying. I never cried. But the relief was a physical violence, tearing this display from a place I kept locked and dark.

All of it... the anger I’d nursed, the cold resolve to forget her, the lies I told myself that I could ever stop this, ever stop loving her.. evaporated. It was ash. Meaningless.

I loved her. The truth of it was a wound that had never scabbed.It bled for her constantly. I would rather let it bleed me dry than ever again try to stanch it.

I had to see her. I pulled back, my hands framing her face, my thumbs stroking the tears from her cheeks. My vision was blurred, but she was there. Her golden eyes, luminous and shattered, looking back at me. Her lips, parted on shaky breaths. Real.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, the words fractured.

"I don’t care." The reply was ripped from me, immediate and absolute. My voice was rough, broken. "Are you real? Tell me you’re real. Tell me I haven’t finally lost my mind."

Her expression crumpled, a devastating mix of grief and a hope so fragile it hurt to see. She didn’t answer with words. She rose onto her toes, her hands gripping my shoulders, and pressed her mouth to mine.

The contact was a shock. A jolt of pure, undiluted truth. It was forgiveness and homecoming and a confession all at once.

I broke. A raw,desperate sound escaped my throat as I took over the kiss. One hand tangled in her hair, angling her face, the other arm banding around her waist, locking her against me.

I kissed her like I was trying to fuse our souls back together. I kissed her with all the terror of those empty weeks, all the rage at her leaving, all the devastating, pathetic gratitude that she was here. The salt of our tears mixed on our lips. I didn’t know whose were whose. It didn’t matter.

When we finally parted, gasping, I just held her, my entire body trembling. I pressed my forehead to hers, our breath mingling in ragged sync.

"Don’t leave me again," I begged, the words a raw, stripped-bare plea. I was not Kael Roman. I was a man made entirely of need. "Please, Aria. I can’t do it again. Please."

"I’m sorry," she sobbed into my chest, her fists clenching in my shirt. "I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry."

"Well, well, well."

Ash’s voice was a bucket of ice water.

I didn’t let go of Aria, just looked up. Ash stood a few feet away, arms crossed, but her usual smirk was absent. Her gaze was oddly soft.

"Seeing Kael Roman cry is a historic event," she said, her tone quieter than its usual bite.

Aria pulled back slightly, a wet, hiccupping laugh escaping as she wiped my cheeks with her trembling fingers. I caught her hand, brought it to my lips, and kissed her palm. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes, just feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. A simple touch I thought I’d lost forever.

"You’re both welcome, by the way," Ash continued, rolling her eyes with forced drama. "For the monumental effort of getting you two self-destructive idiots in the same room."

"No one asked for your commentary," I muttered, my voice still thick.

"Oh, you’re getting it." She stepped closer, all pretense falling away. "Because I am exhausted. I am tired of watching the two most stubborn, idiotic, painfully-in-love people on the planet shred each other’s hearts because you’re too proud or too scared to just talk."

The words landed like punches. Guilt, sharp and deserved, twisted in my gut.

"You have to stop keeping secrets," she said, her eyes pinning us both. "It’s killing you. Both of you."

Before I could form a response, her face hardened.

"Though I doubt our friend Sarah will be sending a reunion gift."

I felt Aria go rigid in my arms.

"I can’t believe she would... do such things," Aria whispered, the words hollow with dawning horror.

"That’s why Kael has proof," Ash said, her gaze shifting to me. "Niko told me what you dug up. About the institution."

Aria went perfectly still.

"Institution?" she breathed.

"It’s true," I said quietly, watching the last of her denial shatter in her eyes.

The look she gave me then... a bottomless well of guilt and sorrow... made my heart feel like it was being crushed in a vise.

"Alright." Ash clapped her hands, shattering the heavy moment. "Clearly, you need about twelve hours alone to actually use your words. Like adults."

She started herding us toward the elevators.

"Go. Disappear. I’ll hold the fort here with Niko."

As if summoned, Niko appeared. He gave a slight, respectful bow of his head to Aria. "Miss Thorne."

"Thank you," Aria said, her voice trembling. "For earlier. With Sarah."

"It was my honor," Niko replied, his steady gaze a comfort. "It is good to see you returned."

"Wait, you saw Sarah?" Ash’s eyes lit with a feral glow. "And I missed it? I have a list of things I want to say to that woman. Most of them involve my fist."

"She was here earlier," I said, the memory a cold stone in my stomach. "With Andrew and his mother. He has her on a short leash now. She’s his creature."

A thick silence fell.

"Good," Ash spat finally. "She made her bed."

She turned back to us, making impatient shooing motions.

"Go. Now. Before I decide you need couple’s counseling right here in the lobby."

Niko stepped forward and tossed me my car keys. I caught them, nodded my thanks, and guided Aria into the elevator, my arm a permanent, unbreakable band around her.

---

The car was a silent, moving tomb.

Aria sat curled in the passenger seat, pale as moonlight. The dim dashboard lights carved shadows under her eyes, in the hollows of her cheeks. She was thinner. She looked... breakable.

She hadn’t been taking care of herself. The knowledge was a fresh, specific pain. My hands clenched on the steering wheel until my knuckles ached.

I drove to a hotel I owned... a sterile, impersonal high-rise. A place with no history.

"Why not your penthouse?" she asked, her voice small in the quiet of the car.

"I hate that place," I said, the words coming out harsh and raw. "It’s just a collection of bad memories now."

She looked at me, her eyes swimming with a sadness so deep I could drown in it.

"I don’t care," I said quickly, grabbing her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. I needed the contact to prove it again. "None of it matters. You’re here."

The lobby was a monument to quiet luxury. Marble, soft light, the hush of money. I didn’t let go of her hand.

"Mr. Roman," the receptionist said, her smile perfectly calibrated. "Your usual suite?"

"Yes. Send up food. Soup. Bread. Fruit. And water."

"Of course, sir."

She handed me the keycard. In the elevator, Aria swayed, her energy clearly spent. I didn’t hesitate. I bent and scooped her into my arms.

"Kael, I can walk," she protested, her voice faint.

"You look like you’ll fracture," I said, carrying her down the hall. The weight of her in my arms was the only thing that felt right.

"You don’t look much better."

I glanced down at her, at the face I thought I’d broken beyond repair. "Yeah," I whispered, my voice cracking. "But you’re here. So I’m already healing."

The suite was cold, perfect, empty. I carried her straight to the bedroom and placed her on the edge of the large bed.

Then, my own legs gave way. I collapsed beside her and pulled her into me, my arms wrapping around her so tightly it must have hurt. I buried my face in her hair, and a shuddering, helpless sob wracked my entire frame.

"I missed you," I choked out, the confession torn from the deepest, most broken part of me. "God, Aria, I missed you so much it was a physical pain. Every day was a lifetime. Every breath was wrong. It was all wrong without you."

Her arms came around me, holding me with a strength that belied her fragility, anchoring me to the world for the first time in weeks.

"I missed you too," she whispered into my neck.

And for the first time since she’d walked away, the air didn’t feel like glass in my lungs. I could finally breathe.