The hum of the cab engine was soft, the evening sun casting a golden glow over the city as it welcomed them back. Cinderella leaned her head against the window, her eyes fluttering closed for a second as the familiar streets rolled by. Heather, Eloise, and Lily were dozing lightly, exhausted but happy. It had been a week of laughter, healing, and rediscovery. But now, home was calling.
And Silvester.
The girls helped unload the suitcases in front of the apartment complex, waving at their cab driver and promising to keep in touch about a weekend brunch. One by one, they hugged Cinderella tightly, whispering encouraging words and teasing comments about her mystery man.
As the elevator ascended to the top floor, Cinderella's heart began to thump faster. She hadn't told Silvester the exact time she'd be back—a playful surprise she hoped would delight him.
But the real surprise waited for her.
The hallway was quiet, but as soon as she pushed open the door to their apartment, a soft instrumental melody floated to greet her. Something delicate, romantic, and soothing. Her breath hitched.
Candles lined the corridor leading into the living room, their flickering flames dancing like little spirits. Scattered rose petals—deep crimson, soft pink—traced a gentle path toward the bedroom. Her suitcase slipped from her fingers.
"Silvester?" she whispered.
No response, only the music continuing its gentle rhythm. She moved forward, her fingers grazing the petals on the wall.
The bedroom door was ajar. She nudged it open.
The room glowed.
More candles. More petals. The bed had been remade with fresh white sheets and a velvet-red throw. And on the pillow sat a small envelope with her name written in his handwriting.
Trembling, she opened it.
*"Welcome home, my moonlight. I missed you more than you can imagine. And yes, that question is still waiting. But first, rest. You've earned it. - S."
She sank onto the bed, laughing softly, her heart bursting with affection. This was what she had come home to. Not just a place. Not just a man. But peace. Love. Security.
---
The next morning was bright, cheerful, and full of the smell of pancakes. Silvester greeted her with a kiss and syrup-smudged smiles. They talked for hours, curled up on the couch, reliving her vacation stories and his week of "patient torture" waiting for her return.
Just after lunch, the buzzer rang.
Cinderella frowned. "Are you expecting anyone?"
Silvester shook his head.
Curious, she padded to the intercom. The small screen flickered.
Penelope.
Cinderella froze.
Silvester stood up immediately, concern etching his face. "What is it?"
"It's... Penelope."
She hadn't seen her since that day outside the building. The apology. The tears. The goodbye.
Without a word, she buzzed her in.
Moments later, there was a soft knock at the door. Cinderella opened it slowly.
Penelope stood in jeans and a plain gray shirt, her hair pulled back, no makeup. There were shadows under her eyes, but she looked stronger somehow. Grounded.
"Hey," she said quietly.
"Hi."
An awkward silence stretched between them.
"I heard you were back," Penelope continued. "I... I waited a few days. I didn't want to intrude. But I just… I needed to say something."
Cinderella didn't invite her in. She stood in the doorway, polite but distant.
"I know you probably don't want to see me. And I wouldn't blame you. I ruined so much. I let Mom turn me into something I'm not proud of."
Cinderella remained quiet.
"I can't change what I did. And I know you're in a better place now. But I wanted you to know... I'm trying. I'm not there yet, but I'm trying to be someone better."
A pause.
"I… I miss having a sister."
Cinderella's throat tightened, but her voice was calm. "We were never really sisters, Penelope."
Penelope flinched, but nodded slowly. "I know. And that's my fault. But I had to try."
Another pause.
"I hope you're happy, Cinderella. Truly."
"I am."
Penelope gave a faint smile, eyes glassy. "That's good. That's really good."
Then, with one last glance, she turned and walked away.
Cinderella closed the door gently.
Silvester was waiting, arms open.
She stepped into them.
No tears. No pain.
Just peace.
Because she had finally let go.
That evening, the apartment felt quieter. Softer. Like the air itself had taken a breath.
Cinderella stood in the dim light of the bedroom, brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Silvester leaned against the doorway, watching her with a small smile.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
She nodded. "Better than okay."
He walked to her slowly, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You amaze me, you know that?"
She smiled, leaning into his warmth. "I'm just learning to let go."
His lips grazed her neck, sending a flutter through her chest. "Then let me show you what love feels like... when it's whole."
Their eyes met in the mirror. And the kiss that followed was soft at first, a gentle question. Her answer was in the way her hands found his shirt, tugging him closer.
One kiss deepened into another. They moved together with slow certainty, shedding the layers of the day, of the past, of everything that had ever hurt them.
As they stepped into the bedroom, the soft petals scattered across the floor led them gently to the bed like a trail of whispered promises. The low hum of music, romantic and slow, filled the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. The glow of dim fairy lights flickered softly, casting golden shadows across their skin.
Silvester reached for Cinderella's hand, and she met his gaze. The love in his eyes was unshakable—tender, deep, and all hers. Slowly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that started as delicate as a sigh but quickly deepened into something more. Passion. Longing. Love. Every emotion they had ever shared came flooding into that kiss.
She melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck as he guided her closer. His touch was gentle yet confident, fingertips brushing the small of her back as he pulled her flush against his body. Her hands found the soft fabric of his shirt and slipped beneath it, her touch light and curious, rediscovering the feel of the man she loved.
They moved together with unspoken understanding, breath mingling, heartbeats racing in unison. Clothes fell away in a silent cascade as they made their way to the bed, laughter mingled with kisses, and soft sighs filled the room. Time seemed to slow. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in this perfect moment.
As they lay tangled in the sheets, skin to skin, every touch, every kiss was a promise whispered between breaths. Silvester took his time, cherishing every inch of her with reverence. Cinderella responded with a tenderness that made him tremble. Their bodies moved in rhythm—slow, deliberate, and deeply connected. They moaned softly into each other's ears, not in urgency but in pleasure that came from the soul.
It wasn't just about the physical; it was about feeling seen, loved, and whole.
They made love with a kind of quiet fire, lingering in every moment, neither of them wanting the night to end. It was passionate yet gentle, intense yet sweet. They didn't rush. They let themselves feel—everything. Every kiss. Every sigh. Every moment of closeness.
And when they finally lay there, hearts pounding and bodies tangled, there was nothing but peace between them.
Cinderella rested her head against Silvester's chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. His arms wrapped around her securely, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you more," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
That night wasn't just about passion—it was about unity. About healing. About love so deep, it wrapped around every scar and made them beautiful.
Cinderella smiled to herself in the quiet darkness, knowing that no matter what came next, this—this love—was hers to keep.