The first thing we did was disappear.
We swapped the car, dumped the phones, and used cash. Arden knew someone, someone quiet, with no questions. In less than an hour, the license plate was different, and the windows were tinted darker than night.
I was still shaking. Not visibly. Not in a way most would notice. But inside, I was trembling.
He noticed anyway.
That night, we didn't go back to the hotel. He drove us along the coast, down a hidden path only locals would know. When the car finally stopped, the sea was whispering just beyond the dunes.
Arden stepped out and opened my door.
The breeze hit first, salty, soft, a bit colder than I expected. But it didn't matter. It was air. Real air. Not the recycled kind that came through vents while I was locked in white-walled rooms.
We sat on the beach, no cameras, no shadows watching.
Then he said, "Do you remember the first time I brought you here?"
I looked at him, lips pressed. And remembered our first encounter. I smiled slowly.
"I remember," I said.
He turned toward the ocean. "It's never been easy without you."
That made my breath pause.
I stared ahead, watching how the moon cut silver lines over the water.
"It wasn't easy for me either," I whispered. "I missed… breathing."
He turned his head, looked at me. Really looked. I looked at him.
That's when I moved closer.
I didn't even think about it.
It was just instinct, the kind I hadn't trusted in a long time. I tilted my head.
I think I wanted to kiss him.
But he beat me to it.
Slow. Certain. Honest.
His hand touched my cheek like I'd shatter. I didn't.
And under the moonlight, our mouths met, quiet, but real.
I didn't know exactly what I felt.
But I knew I didn't want it to end.
Because with him… I wasn't pretending.
---
The next morning,
"You kissed me," he said casually over breakfast.
"You kissed me first," I countered, eyes narrowing.
He raised a brow. "You were leaning in."
"It wasn't—ugh, fine. It was fake."
He blinked. "Oh?"
"Just the moment. It didn't mean anything," I said.
Even I didn't even believe in myself.
"Alright," he said, a smile hiding at the corner of his lips. "Then let's make it real."
"What?"
He stood from the bench, stretched his arms dramatically. "Let's date. Casually. I'll plan everything. You just show up."
I gaped. "When?"
"Later," he grinned. "Better get ready. I'm planning something."
---
That night, we didn't run.
We stayed.
On the same beach, Arden laid out a picnic blanket and brought food I only ever saw in sets, cheeses, fresh fruit, tiny desserts in glass jars.
No cameras.
No fake smiles.
I was going to eat it. Not shoot with it.
I picked up a strawberry. It was warm from the sun.
"Why are you like this?" I asked.
"Like what?"
"Kind. Gentle. Patient. What's your deal?"
He smiled, uncorking a small bottle of wine. "Have you ever fallen in love?"
The question stopped me.
I blinked. "No. I haven't. I don't even believe in it."
He poured into both glasses.
I kept going. "People say they love their job. I never did. Mom says she loves me. That wasn't love either. I'm so…" I paused, swallowed. "I'm so damaged I wouldn't recognize love if it danced in front of me."
He didn't look away.
He just said,
"Can I kiss you again?"
I was frozen. The wind is still. The sea hushed.
"Antheia," he continued. "What if I told you I love you?"
I stared.
He smiled softly. "And yeah, I know you'll probably say, 'what if' doesn't count. But people say 'what if' when they mean something deeply, but don't know if it'll be returned. It's a safety net. But I mean it."
He took a small sip, then added,
"You're different. And that's not why I love you. I don't know why. I just… do. I shouldn't have. It would've been easier not to. But I did."
My heart stopped.
My mind didn't know how to respond.
But my body…
My body trembled. I didn't even know why.
For once, someone said the words and meant them.
And didn't want anything back.
Not fame.
Not photos.
Not a performance.
Just me.
---
I didn't say "I love you" back.
Not yet.
But I didn't move away.
I stayed in that moment, in Arden's arms, my head against his chest.
And I believed, for the first time in my life, that maybe love did exist.
Maybe it wasn't loud.
Maybe it was soft, steady, and wrapped in quiet moments like this.
And maybe… it was finally mine.
----
That night, we didn't run.
We stayed.
On the same beach, Arden laid out a picnic blanket and brought food I only ever saw in sets, cheeses, fresh fruit, tiny desserts in glass jars.
No cameras.
No fake smiles.
I was going to eat it. Not shoot with it.
I picked up a strawberry. It was warm from the sun.
"Why are you like this?" I asked.
"Like what?"
"Kind. Gentle. Patient. What's your deal?"
He smiled, uncorking a small bottle of wine. "Have you ever fallen in love?"
The question stopped me.
I blinked. "No. I haven't. I don't even believe in it."
He poured into both glasses.
I kept going. "People say they love their job. I never did. Mom says she loves me. That wasn't love either. I'm so…" I paused, swallowed. "I'm so damaged I wouldn't recognize love if it danced in front of me."
He didn't look away.
He just said,
"Can I kiss you again?"
I was frozen. The wind stilled. The sea hushed.
"You're everything to me, Antheia," he continued. "What if I told you I love you?"
I stared.
He smiled softly. "And yeah, I know you'll probably say, 'what if' doesn't count. But people say 'what if' when they mean something deeply, but don't know if it'll be returned. It's a safety net. But I mean it."
He took a small sip, then added,
"You're different. And that's not why I love you. I don't know why. I just… do. I shouldn't have. It would've been easier not to. But I did."
My heart stopped.
My mind didn't know how to respond.
But my body…
My body trembled. My eyes blurred. I was crying, and I didn't even know why.
Because for once, someone said the words and meant them.
And didn't want anything back.
Not fame.
Not photos.
Not a performance.
Just me.
---
I didn't say "I love you" back.
Not yet.
But I didn't move away.
I stayed in that moment, in Arden's arms, my head against his chest.
And I believed, for the first time in my life, that maybe love did exist.
Maybe it wasn't loud.
Maybe it was soft, steady, and wrapped in quiet moments like this.
And maybe… it was finally mine.
----
The next day, we started.
No more running.
We had bruises. Some still fresh. Some hidden.
But we had each other.
And we had names.
We approached the models quietly — one at a time, in places that felt safe. Arden would stay a step behind, letting me speak. His presence was quiet fire — enough to let them know I wasn't alone, never again.
Some looked away the moment they saw me.
Some whispered apologies they didn't owe.
And a few… a few nodded. Quietly. Ready.
We took notes. Not real ones, nothing that could be traced. Just keywords in Arden's sketchpad. A smiley face here. A star there. Our own code.
We were getting close to the last name on our list.
Her name was Livia — a model I once shared a campaign with. She was always laughing on set, loud and confident. She left suddenly, no goodbye.
When she saw us walking up the path, her entire body stiffened.
She didn't say hi.
She only asked, "Why is he here?"
Arden stepped forward, offering a hand.
"I'm Arden. Antheia's boyfriend."
That word again.
Boyfriend.
Every time he said it, it sounded more like home.
Livia flinched slightly but didn't run.
"I can't promise anything," she said quickly, voice low. "But… I'll try."
We sat at the end of a pier, legs dangling off the edge, waves slapping underneath.
"I declined the agency's offer," she said, eyes focused on the water. "They said I wasn't the right fit. That I wasn't… willing."
"Willing?" I echoed.
Her jaw clenched. "To be used."
There was silence.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I came in for what I thought was a test shoot. They said a client would be there, big opportunity. The man showed up. Old, with a glass cane and gold rings." She exhaled hard. "He didn't speak much. He just nodded. And someone locked the door."
I felt my pulse spike. My hands began to shake.
Arden noticed, quietly slipped his fingers into mine under the table.
Livia shook her head. "I said no. Loud. I threatened to break their equipment. I think that scared them. I stormed out. But I didn't have proof. No recordings. No photos. Just my word."
"That's enough," Arden said gently. "You're enough."
Livia looked at him. Really looked.
Then, surprisingly, her lip trembled. She nodded once. "I'll talk when you're ready. Just… not alone."
"You won't be," I said.
---
That night, Arden drove us back through winding coastal roads. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, painting the world in quiet purples and bruised blue.
We didn't say much.
He kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn't looking.
When we pulled up to the cabin, he cut the engine and turned toward me.
"Do you ever get scared?" I asked.
He nodded. "Every minute."
"But you don't show it."
"I can't. Because if I fall apart, you'll think it's okay to stop fighting."
My throat tightened. I hadn't realized how badly I needed someone to be strong for me.
We walked into the cabin, and before I could say anything else, he reached into the back seat and pulled something out.
The lily.
Still alive.
Still soft.
Still mine.
He handed it to me. "You left this behind."
I took it gently, holding it like it was made of something sacred.
"Thank you," I whispered.
---
We sat outside again — on the porch steps this time. He made tea. I didn't even know he knew how to make tea.
I watched the steam rise, curling like ghosts between us.
"You're still shaking," he said softly.
"I know," I replied.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
I looked at him. "I'm not."
He nodded. "Good. Then let me take care of you. Let me help."
I wanted to argue. Say I didn't need it. But I was tired of lying.
So I just leaned my head against his shoulder.
"You're not just helping me," I said. "You're keeping me alive."
He didn't speak.
But he squeezed my hand tighter.
And sometimes… that was more than enough.
---
We'd only just begun.
The agency was powerful.
Our proof was whispers and bruises.
But we had our stories.
We had each other.
And most of all…
We had the truth.
And we were done being quiet.