'Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.'
The thought looped in Mya's head, frantic and unrelenting. She fidgeted heavily on the carriage seat, fingers twisting the edge of her soft gray dress, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Fifteen minutes into the ride to Acerbus, and the modest apartment loomed closer with every clop of the horses' hooves.
Stiletto noticed immediately, his red eyes flicking to her trembling hands and the way her shoulders hunched inward.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Anyone would be jittery wearing a dress like that in this chilly weather," he said lightly, voice warm with teasing affection.
Mya let out a shaky chuckle, but her cheeks darkened further. She knew he wasn't fooled. As of late, he could always read her like one of his books.
Without another word, Stiletto rose from his seat and shrugged off his long white trench coat—the one with silver embroidery he wore when retrieving Lyria, the only truly nice piece of clothing his predecessor had owned. It had a special connection in the old Stiletto's heart as well, since Samuel had gifted it to him for his sixteenth birthday.
Leaning down, Stiletto draped it over her near-bare shoulders, the heavy fabric settling like a shield against the cold air seeping through the carriage walls.
He leaned further, breath warm against her ear.
"You look fabulous, my pretty Mya~" he whispered, voice low and intimate. "Someone who looks as good as you should be confident no matter what."
His lips brushed her cheek in a soft kiss before he sat back down across from her.
Instantly, Mya's heart fluttered. The coat smelled like him—clean, warm, faintly of leather and the manor's faint spice. Her cheeks burned hotter, but her gaze remained lowered, fixed on her lap.
Stiletto continued to watch her for a long moment. Soon, the playful glint in his eyes faded, replaced by quiet concern. He leaned forward, reaching across the small space between them to take one of her hands in his. Slowly, his thumb rubbed gentle circles over her knuckles, affectionate and steady.
"Tell me…" he said, voice dropping to a calm, commanding tone tinted with care. "What's wrong?"
Mya's fingers tightened around his as she drew in a shaky breath.
"I'm scared," she whispered, voice barely above the carriage wheels. "James… what if he says no? What if he finds out? What—what will happen to us?"
Her eyes grew glossy, tears gathering at the corners as her fingers tightened even more around his. The moment seemed to swell around her—too big, too heavy—as she blinked rapidly, trying to keep it all inside.
Stiletto gave her space for a long breath, thumb still tracing slow circles over her knuckles. He watched the way her shoulders curled further inward, the nervous scrunch of her slightly wrinkled forehead deepening.
"Mya…" His voice came soft, steady. "What is it that you want?"
The question caught her off guard.
Her eyes widened, lips parting as she searched his face. "W—Well… to stay with you, Sti—"
He shook his head once, gentle but firm.
"No. I already know that." Stiletto leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, holding her gaze. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… why do you place so much value on that, that you're this stressed out?"
Mya's mouth opened and closed as she stammered, words tangling. "I—I don't know, I just—"
She stopped, unable to find the words.
Instead of immediately speaking, Stiletto waited, letting the silence stretch.
Then he spoke again, warmer still. "Okay, then—an even better question that will get to the root of all this…" He paused, voice dripping with care. "Do you still love your husband?"
Immediately, the color drained from her face, her lips trembling. "It—it's more complicated than that, Stiletto. He's the father of my child. You're too yo—" Jolting, she cut herself off sharply, eyes squeezing shut as fresh tears spilled over. The word she'd almost said—young—hung unspoken between them. It was a shield she hadn't meant to raise. An excuse. And not only that, but it was a slap in the face to the man sitting across from her. Shame instantly washed over her features, and a quiet sob escaped.
Yet Stiletto only smiled—warm and steady—without a hint of judgment in it. He then lifted her chin gently with two fingers, thumb brushing away a tear that tracked down her cheek. Her face was flushed, snot lingering beneath her nose—her eyes glassy and vulnerable.
"It's okay," he murmured. "I get that you're feeling a lot right now." His thumb traced her jawline once, grounding. "But we need to figure this out now… before we step into your home."
Mya's breath shuddered.
In response, she tried to turn her face away, but his hold stayed gentle, coaxing her back.
"Then let me ask this…" His voice softened further, almost tender. "Do you love me?"
In that same moment, her heart stuttered visibly—her chest rising sharp, and her eyes widening as the question sank in. She froze, lips parted, gaze locked with his.
'He knows.'
Stiffly, she turned her head just enough to break eye contact, cheeks burning brighter. A small, shaky laugh escaped her—half disbelief, half surrender.
"Are—are you really making me do this now, of all times?" she muttered, mostly to herself. Another soft laugh escaped her, wet with tears. "I can't believe I'm doing this here… in a carriage, crying like this."
Mya drew in a deep, trembling breath, wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, then—resolutely—turned back to face him. The blush had faded, her eyes clearer and more determined than they'd been all morning as she spoke:
"I do."
The words came out without hesitation.
"I love you. More than anything else."
…
The carriage rocked gently along the uneven road, the hum of hooves and wheels against the gravel the only sound for a long moment after her confession. Their eyes stayed locked for what felt like an eternity, searching—hers still glossy and vulnerable, his wide with sudden, unguarded surprise.
Suddenly, Stiletto's heart slammed against his ribs as the moment caught up to him. Heat rushed up his neck, ears burning. 'Holy shit…'
He blinked, caught completely off guard. This was his first time ever receiving a real confession. It hit him harder than he'd expected—especially since it was Mya.
A flush spread across his face—impossible to hide. "Ahem!" He coughed, releasing her chin and hand in the same motion. Turning his head sharply to the left, he stared out the window at the passing trees, suddenly shy. "I… I wasn't expecting that. W—why is it that you pick and choose when to be bold and when to be shy?"
Once more, Mya's own cheeks flared hotter. She twisted her head the opposite way, hands squeezing the fabric of her dress in her lap. "A—and whose fault is that?" she whispered, voice small but edged with heat. "I'm a mess because of you… I can't control it either."
Silence stretched again, thick and warm.
And then, a soft, cute giggle slipped from her.
She turned back, eyes sparkling, her anxiety almost entirely gone. Seeing Stiletto's flustered side profile seemed to unravel the last of her nerves. It was an incredibly rare sight—especially over the past month, since they'd truly grown close…
Mya couldn't help but find solace in it.
Tilting forward slightly, her voice dropped to a teasing murmur.
"…You little fucking rascal~ You better take responsibility for this."
Stiletto slowly turned back. His blush was fading, but his heart felt lighter, steadier. He met her loving eyes, her playful smirk, and his own grin spread—slow, warm, and relieved.
'Good, good.'
He'd been able to calm her down—a grown woman dealing with such a serious issue. It gave him great confidence.
"Ohhh~?" he drawled, playful edge returning. "It seems feisty Mya came back to play~" The grin sharpened. "…But be careful what you say right now. I almost ripped your clothes off and slammed your pussy into the wooden seats just now~"
Mya burst into giggles, her face bright and eased, her burdens lifted in that single moment. Not long after, her large breasts bounced as she reached forward quickly, slapping his chest lightly. "Now is not the time for that, you insatiable beast!"
Stiletto chuckled low, his eyes unapologetically roaming over the maid's supple body, his voice teasing as he shot back at her with her own line: "And whose fault is that~?"
Another pause lingered between them, comfortable and warm. The air felt the lightest it had been all morning.
Then they broke the silence, bursting into laughter together, deep and genuine, the sound filling the carriage as it continued its short journey to Acerbus.