I ran—faster than I ever have.
"Eva." Her name tore from my lips—half prayer, half desperate scream. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a violent drum echoing in my ears. At that moment, everything inside me came undone. A feeling I'd never known before gripped me—like the world was slipping through my fingers… like I was losing something I hadn't even realized was mine to lose. She lay there, fragile and quiet, like a fallen petal bruised by the wind.
A part of me shattered.
I dropped to my knees beside her and gently lifted her head, cradling it into my lap, brushing the hair away from her pale face.
"Eva, talk to me… Please, just say something, anything." My voice trembled.
Her lips parted weakly.
"Vincenzo…" she whispered, pain lacing her voice like a thread through silk. She blinked slowly, pain written in every corner of her expression. "Don't worry… I'm alright," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper—so fragile it broke me. That tiny whisper undid me. I exhaled shakily, my chest easing just a little. "Thank God…"
Without another word, I slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and lifted her into my arms. Her head rested against my chest, and I could feel the uneven rhythm of her breath.
She didn't protest.
But her leg—blood smeared across it. Thorns, rocks… she must've hit the slope hard. I gently lifted her into my arms, Her head rested against my chest, and I could feel the uneven rhythm of her breath, carrying her to a large stone and settling her there like she was made of glass. She flinched when I touched her ankle. Even then, she tried to mask it, biting back the pain.
"You don't have to pretend for me," I murmured.
From my bag, I grabbed the first aid kit and a wet cloth, cleaning her wounds slowly, and carefully. My fingers ghosted over her skin, and with every stroke, I felt the heat beneath her surface. The bruises, the scratches, the blood—none of it made her any less beautiful. The way she endured it all with quiet strength only made her seem more untouchable, more divine.
And yet, she was here. Mine.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss on her foot, reverent, like I was kissing something sacred. She lifted her hand wordlessly, her fingers brushing my cheek, and I immediately grasped it. She tugged me gently closer. I sat beside her, and then she melted into me—burying her face into my chest, her arms wrapping around my torso.
She cried—not the kind of cries born from broken bones or scrapes. This was something deeper. Older. A pain she'd buried for years. I didn't speak. I didn't ask. We were spies. Trained to hold our silence like weapons. But right now, I didn't need her secrets. I only needed her.
I ran my hand across her back slowly, up and down, like soothing a storm. "You won't suffer alone anymore," I whispered against her hair. "Not as long as I'm here. I swear it." When she finally pulled back, her warmth still lingered on me. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb. Then, without warning, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo.
She blinked in disbelief. "W-What are you doing?" Her voice cracked mid-tear, making her even more adorable.
I smirked. "Capturing my beautiful wife looking like a monkey after crying."
She gasped, half-offended, half-laughing. "Vincenzo!" she swatted my arm weakly, cheeks flushed pink.
"That's better," I said, leaning in and kissing her knuckles. "There she is. The most gorgeous woman I've ever seen."
She shook her head, smiling now, a soft glimmer of light in the shadow of pain. But then her expression faltered. "I ruined our date… There's no way we'll make it to the top by evening now."
I reached for her hand again, tightening my grip. "Who said it's ruined? Don't ever blame my wife for anything, you hear me?"
Her eyes softened as she placed her palm against my cheek. "But Mr. Husband, be practical. I can't even walk…"
A slow, wicked smile tugged at my lips. "Don't you know who's your Husband?" I said, voice low and teasing. "What's the point of all my workouts if I can't carry my woman when she needs me most?"
She arched a brow. "Oh really?"
"Don't believe me?" I leaned closer, breath warm against her ear. "Or are you trying to tempt me into showing you just how strong your husband is?"
She shivered, her breath hitching, and in that moment—injured, exhausted, vulnerable—she still looked devastatingly beautiful.
I stood, brushed off the dirt, and without warning, scooped her into my arms once again. She yelped softly, startled, her arms looping around my neck.
"I hope you're ready, Mrs. Husband," I whispered against her temple, voice like velvet. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
And with that, I began the climb—with my whole world in my arms.
The journey had been long, but every moment had been worth it. As I carried her up, the weight of the world felt light in my arms. The laughter we shared, the endless stories—each step only deepened the connection between us. Her little heart, so close to mine, drummed softly with every beat. It was a sound I would never grow tired of hearing.
When we reached the top, the evening sun cast its golden rays across the world below, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The view was stunning—an artist's canvas came to life. But nothing could compare to the sight of her, sunlight cascading over her face, illuminating her in a way that made my heart skip a beat. She looked more beautiful than I could have imagined, her features softened by the fading daylight, her presence more captivating than the view.
We sat together on the soft grass, watching the sunset, the cool breeze sweeping around us. The wind carried a chill, and I noticed her rubbing her shoulders, her skin shivering under the touch. Without a second thought, I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at me, the playful glint in her eyes still there.
"Why aren't you cold?" she asked, her tone teasing.
I gave a half smile, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm alright."
She shot me a look, knowing exactly what I was doing. "Don't try to act tough in front of me," she said, a challenge in her voice.
Then, to my surprise, she moved closer, resting her back against my chest. My heart raced, the warmth of her body sending a rush of heat through me despite the chill. I leaned in, my voice low and soft as I whispered into her ear, "If I had this blanket, I'd stay like this forever..."
She playfully jabbed her elbow into my chest, her smile a mixture of amusement and affection. "You and your cheesy lines," she teased, though there was no hiding the softness in her voice.
I grinned, leaning in closer, the teasing tone lingering. "But I think you enjoy them, don't you?"
Her eyes met mine, filled with a playful fire. "Whatever," she said, though I could tell there was more to it than just that one word.
The wind picked up, and the evening sky darkened. She shifted slightly, looking out at the horizon. "It's going to be night soon," she said. "We should make our arrangements for the night."
The sound of her voice, gentle and calm, stirred something inside me. I pulled her closer, feeling the beat of her heart against mine, and nodded. "Let's take care of everything... together."
She glanced up at me, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "I'll make the noodles while you set up the tent," she said, her voice low and playful. "You're the strong one, right?"
I chuckled, a teasing smirk on my lips. "Alright, madam, as per your royal order," I replied, bowing dramatically. The sound of her laugh was like music to my ears. It made my heart beat faster, a familiar warmth spreading through me.
As I moved to gather some wooden sticks for the fire, I couldn't help but notice how graceful she looked in the dim light, her movements elegant despite the simplicity of the task at hand. I felt a rush of admiration for her. She didn't need to try. She was simply... captivating.
The crackle of the fire grew louder as she expertly boiled water in a small pot, her hands moving with ease, despite the chill in the air. Her focus was intense, but every so often, she would glance up at me, her eyes glimmering with something deeper, something more playful.
"You're doing great," I said, offering her a smile as I gathered the tent poles and began to set up. "You make it look so easy."
She raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on her lips. "Well, I'm good at many things," she said with confidence, the playful glint in her eyes teasing me. As the night sky darkened, the stars began to shimmer above us, casting a soft glow over everything. It was like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us, the tension in the air palpable. She finished the noodles, and as I secured the final corner of the tent, I couldn't help but sneak a glance at her.
"You've made the noodles perfectly," I said, stepping closer to her as the scent of the steaming meal filled the air.
"Of course," she replied her tone just a touch smug. "I told you I could do it."
I couldn't resist. As I sat down beside her, I gently nudged her shoulder with mine. "You're not just good at making noodles, are you?"
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, there was a pause—an electric silence that buzzed between us. The flickering campfire reflected in her eyes, and I could feel the heat between us growing. She turned to look at me, her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to express it.
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You're good at making everything feel... right. And that includes this moment," I said, my hand brushing against hers as I reached for the noodles. The contact was light, but it sent a wave of warmth through me.
She smiled, her cheeks flushing just slightly under the warmth of the fire. "You're such a charmer," she teased, but her voice betrayed her. There was something in the way she looked at me—something soft, something yearning. We ate our meal in silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional crackle from the fire and the soft rustling of the night wind. But I could feel the unspoken tension building, thick and intoxicating.
As I finished my last bite, I caught her eyes again, and this time, there was no hiding it. Her gaze lingered on me, intense and filled with desire. "So," I began, my voice low and seductive, "after all this hard work, what do you think we should do next?"
She didn't immediately answer. Instead, she leaned back slightly, her fingers brushing against mine as she moved closer. "I think," she whispered, her voice husky, "that we've earned our rest."
Her lips were so close now, that I could feel her breath against my skin, and every instinct within me screamed to close the distance between us. But I stayed still, savoring the tension, savoring the way she made me feel.
"Do you think we should share the tent?" she asked her tone light but daring. It was a challenge, and I wasn't about to back down from it.
Without thinking, I slid my hand into hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. "I think that sounds perfect," I said, my voice thick with desire.
The moment hung between us, suspended in time. As we stood up together, her hand still in mine, the world outside our little bubble seemed to disappear. Everything was just the two of us—the intimacy of the night, the crackling fire, the whispers, and the promise of what was to come.\
The air was charged with something dangerous, something seductive. And as I pulled her toward the tent, I couldn't help but feel that this night would be one we'd never forget.
The heat between us was undeniable now, and I was determined to make sure it would last. Every glance, every touch, every word was a promise. The night was ours, and nothing would stand in the way of the connection we had.
As we settled into the tent, the sound of our laughter and whispered words filling the space, I knew that this was just the beginning. And no matter how chaotic, how dangerous, or how tempting the world might get, we would face it together.
And that thought made everything feel perfect.....