Page 130 of The Ruin I Chose

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at me with something quiet in his eyes. Just care. The kind that doesn’t ask for anything in return. I kissed his cheek briefly. Just gratitude. A thank-you, carved in touch.

A way to say: I see you. I’m grateful.

“Thank you for protecting him,” I whispered.

Santino nodded, his jaw tight.

“Always,” he said.

His voice was low and steady, carrying the weight of a man who meant it with every scar. He gently brushed his knuckles along my cheek just enough to say I’m here, prompting me to lean into his arm with a sigh of relief before I drifted off to sleep on his shoulder. Safe. Held. Whole.

We arrived in Kuala Lumpur in the morning and headed straight to the hospital. I stopped just outside Marcello’s room, heart pounding so fast that everything sounded like a buzz.

I rubbed my fingers together, half expecting him to be hooked up to machines, half expecting him to be sitting up, waiting for me.

I hesitated at the threshold, afraid of what I’d see. Afraid of what I couldn’t unsee. My fingers trembled on the doorframe. I wasn’t ready, but I couldn’t stay away. Santino came up behind me and rubbed my shoulder, sensing my hesitation. He opened the door, and I gasped.

Marcello had tubes coming out of him. A urine bag. Another from his side, draining what looked like dark blood. He was hooked to an IV drip and heart monitor. His bed was partially upright.

I approached his bed and gently traced my fingers over his. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me, smiling.

“You came.”

I laughed through tears and smacked his chest.

“You don’t get to tell me you love me and disappear.”

“I’m sorry, amore. Won’t happen again. I’m too old for this shit anyway.”

I laughed and kissed him. He sat up in bed, groaning. Santino handed him a small leather box, then left us alone.

“I’ve been carrying this around since I arrived. It’s been in our family for generations,” he said, holding my hand and rubbing my fingers.

“I was my nonna’s.”

“Marcello...”

My heart pounded.

Was he going to propose? Here in this hospital bed?

“I wanted to wait for the perfect moment. But moments are always fleeting for us.”

He opened the box. I gasped.

“I’ve modified it a bit to suit your style.”

“It’s beautiful. But…” my throat tightened around the rest.

“I’m not asking for marriage.”

His voice cracked slightly, like he wasn’t sure he deserved the future he was asking for.

“Not yet. I’m asking permission to let me in—to be part of your life, Kyra’s life. I don’t care about vows or ceremonies or what the world thinks love should look like. I care about you. About waking up beside you and knowing I get to earn your trust every day. To be your companion. For now. For always.”

“Yes,” I said, eyes glassy.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”