I think about the fluorescent lights. The boring work. The commute. The way I felt invisible every single day.
"No," I admit. "I don't want to go back."
"Then don't."
"But I need to do something." I sit up, energy suddenly coursing through me. "I can't just... exist. I need purpose. Work. Something that's mine."
"Then find it." He shifts closer. "You don't have to figure it out right now. Take time. Figure out what you actually want to do instead of what you think you should do."
The permission in those words makes my throat tight.
"What if I don't know what I want?" I ask, suddenly feeling adrift.
"Then we'll figure it out together."
Together.
The word is heavy with meaning.
I think about the marriage certificate I signed tonight. About the way Yury called me family. About the responsibilities Sophia mentioned and the expectations everyone has.
"They're going to want a real wedding eventually, aren't they?" I ask. "Something public. Photos. Announcements."
"Probably." Leon doesn't sound thrilled about it either. "Yury will expect it. The family will expect it. But only if you want it."
"Do you?"
He considers this. "I've never thought about weddings. Never planned to have one. But if it makes this more real for you, if it gives you something that feels like yours instead of just... circumstance, then yes."
I shake my head slowly. "I don't need a wedding. I don't need the dress or the flowers or the ceremony." I reach for his hand again. "What happened between us today, this morning... that felt more real than any wedding could."
His eyes darken at the memory. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." My cheeks heat but I don't look away. "I chose you. You chose me. We don't need a church or witnesses to make that mean something."
"Good." He pulls me into his lap in one smooth motion, settling me against his chest. "Because I'm not good at romantic gestures. I can protect you, provide for you, worship your body until you can't remember your own name. But I struggle with the soppy stuff."
I laugh, the sound surprising me. "What if I want flowers sometimes?"
"Then I'll buy you flowers." He says it like it's obvious. "Just not because tradition says I should. I’ll buy you flowers because you want them."
That distinction matters more than it probably should.
We sit like that for a while, his arms around me, my head on his shoulder. The house is silent except for our breathing, the occasional creak of old wood settling.
"I'll call my parents tomorrow," I decide. "Tell them I met someone. That it's serious. They'll be surprised, but..." I shrug. "They've been trying to get me to date for years. They'll probably just be relieved."
"And work?"
"I'll email my boss Monday morning. Resign with immediate effect. Professional. Clean." I lift my head to meet his eyes. "Then I'll figure out what comes next."
"What do you think comes next?"
"I don't know." The honesty feels good. "Maybe I'll take some time. Explore the estate. Get to know Sophia and Charlotte better. Maybe I'll look into something completely different. Something I actually care about."
"Like what?"
"I don't know yet." I trace one of the tattoos on his chest through his shirt. "But I have time to figure it out, right? This isn't... you're not going to kick me out once I'm jobless or something?"
