Ch 16

Morning light spilled gently through the curtains, painting the apartment in soft gold. I woke to the faint sound of humming — a melody I didn't recognize but instantly knew belonged to her. Lea.

I didn't move at first, just breathed in the quiet. The faint scent of coffee and warm toast drifted from the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt the tight knot in my chest loosen.

I finally rose and padded to the kitchen. There she was, hair loosely tied, sleeves rolled up, flipping an omelette with the kind of ease that made everything feel effortless. She looked up, her eyes lighting when they met mine.

"Morning, Doctor," she teased softly.

"Morning, Superstar," I replied, my voice catching in a laugh. "You cook now?"

"I make a mean omelette," she said, smiling. "And I promise, I know how to use salt."

I laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in ages. "I'm impressed."

She poured two cups of coffee and slid one toward me. I took it, savoring the warmth, while she sat across the counter, her elbows resting on the surface, eyes curious and steady.

"I have to ask," she began slowly, "about staying last night. About... you being here."

I met her gaze, feeling my heartbeat pick up. "I didn't want to be alone. I just... needed you."

Her expression softened, the corners of her lips turning up into that quiet, knowing smile that had always felt like home. "What if you didn't have to just stay for a little while?" she asked, voice gentle. "What if you moved in? Completely?"

I blinked. "You mean—"

"Yes," she said simply. "No half-measures. No temporary arrangements. You've already chosen me, Rafa, and I want to choose you — fully, openly, officially."

My chest tightened. All the running, all the hiding, all the endless expectations — it all melted away in the warmth of her words.

"You're sure?" I whispered. "Because I— I don't bring lightness. I bring... chaos and baggage."

She leaned forward, resting her hand over mine. "I know. But you also bring laughter, honesty, and a heart I can finally see clearly. That's worth more than any chaos."

I felt a smile tug at my lips, soft and shaky. "So this... this is real?"

She nodded, her thumb brushing gently across my knuckles. "Yes, Rafaelle De Torre. Will you move in with me? Not as a visitor. Not as a temporary escape. But as mine?"

I swallowed, my throat tight. "Wow. I mean... yes, Lea. I want that. You finally have my yes."

Her face lit up with the kind of smile that could quiet any storm. She leaned in and kissed me softly, a slow, deliberate kiss that spoke of trust, hope, and home.

When we parted, her forehead rested against mine.

"Welcome home, hon," she whispered.

And for the first time in forever, I felt like I truly was.

Later that morning, after the omelette and coffee, Lea leaned back in her chair, eyes thoughtful. She studied me as if trying to memorize every curve of my face, every tremor of my hands — the little tells of someone who had carried too much alone for far too long.

"You know, hon," she said softly, "saying yes... it means everything."

I tilted my head, puzzled. "Yes to what, honey?"

Her gaze softened, the corners of her mouth turning up in that small, secret smile she reserves for moments like this. "To me, hon. To us."

I swallowed, remembering — painfully, achingly — that afternoon in St. Kilda, the day I'd said no. My heart had broken then, but not from a lack of love. No, it had broken because I had thought I couldn't risk it, that my responsibilities, my family, my own fear of consequences, made it impossible. I'd let her go because I thought it was right.

And now... here I was, lying to no one, answering only to the truth of my heart.

"I know," I murmured. "I remember St. Kilda. How much I wanted to say yes... and didn't."

Her hand found mine across the table, warm and grounding. "I never stopped hoping, hon. I never stopped believing that one day, you'd choose yourself... and me."

I felt a lump in my throat, the weight of all those years pressing gently on my chest. "I do," I whispered. "I've chosen you, hon. Always will from that day in Baltimore to forever."

She leaned closer, her forehead resting lightly against mine. "That yes — now — it's bigger than anything I could have imagined. It's not just words, honey. It's every fear you conquered, every step you took to finally be here. With me. That yes... it's everything."

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. For the first time in years, I felt entirely free — free from expectation, free from obligation, free to love and be loved without apology.

"I should have done this so long ago," I admitted softly. "Stood up for us, for you, for me... even when I was twenty-one, even when I was scared of the consequences. I overcalculated things, makes me an idiot if I'm being honest."

"Ano ka ba, hon," she murmured, brushing a hand over my cheek. "You were just careful. You were learning. And now you're here. That's all that matters."

I opened my eyes and looked at her — really looked. The morning light caught the shimmer of her lashes, the faintest smile on her lips, the unspoken reassurance in her gaze.

"Yes," I said again, but this time not a whisper. This time, a promise. "Yes, hon. Yes to everything we've been afraid to name. Yes to us."

Her smile deepened, warm and steady. "Then everything else," she said softly, "can wait. We've got us now, hon. That's enough."

And in that quiet apartment, with sunlight spilling over the floorboards and the scent of coffee lingering in the air, I knew it truly was enough.