“Is it the girl?”
I nodded slowly. “It’s Liz.”
He finished the tie, smoothing the knot down with care. Then he stepped back, meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I want to show her that she’s more than what they made her,” I said, voice rough. “I want her to feel like she’s not just this... mission. Or this weapon. I want her to know she’s allowed to beloved.And I’m scared she won’t let me in all the way. Or worse — that she’ll think I’m just another person trying to use her.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he put both hands on my shoulders, grounding me.
“Noah,” he said, voice low, “when your mother walked into my life, I thought I knew what love was. I thought it was fire. Fast. Wild. The kind that makes you burn to feel alive.”
He looked down for a second, like the memory hurt in the best way.
“But then I watched her sit with me on my worst day, not saying a word — just being there. And I realized love isn’t the fire.”
He looked at me again.
“Love is who stays after the flame dies down.It’s choosing to see someone for what they are and staying anyway. It’s showing up every day and saying: you are not what broke you. You are not what they built.”
I swallowed hard.
“I don’t want her to be afraid of me.”
“Then let her take her time. Let her know, with every glance, every word, that you seeher— not the blueprint someone forced on her.”
I looked at my reflection. For the first time in a while, I saw someone who could maybe be enough.
“You think I can do that?”
His voice cracked just slightly when he said, “You already are.”
I nodded slowly, my throat thick, heart full.
And in that moment, I stopped worrying about how the tux felt.
Because tonight wasn’t about the clothes.
It was about her.
Seeing her.
And loving her like she was abeginning,not a burden.
Elizabeth
The chandeliers cast soft golden halos across the ballroom, catching the edges of every glass, every jewel, every whispered compliment that passed between velvet and lace.
It felt like a dream I had no business living in.
The gown shimmered like water against my skin — deep forest green, the fabric flowing like I could disappear into it. My mask was laced with emerald and gold, intricate and delicate, hiding just enough to make people stare longer than they should.
Mary and Lillian had picked perfectly.
But all I could think about was one question:Would he look at me the way I looked at him?
