CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Learning to Stand
The first day Kiera stepped out alone after everything changed, her hands shook.
Not visibly—she'd learned long ago how to hide that—but inside, her nerves buzzed like live wires. The doorman greeted her politely, as always, yet she felt eyes on her from everywhere. Every passing glance felt loaded, every whisper imagined.
Still, she walked forward.
She had chosen this.
The city was loud and unapologetic, just like the life she was slowly stepping into. Kiera reminded herself to breathe as she entered the small café two blocks from the penthouse—the same one she used to visit before her name meant anything to strangers.
She ordered her drink without incident.
No pointing. No murmurs.
Relief washed over her in quiet waves.
When she returned home later that afternoon, Kade was already there, sleeves rolled up, phone pressed to his ear. He looked up when he saw her, his expression softening instantly.
"I'll call you back," he said, ending the call.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "I went out. Alone."
A smile curved his lips. "And?"
"And the world didn't end," she said lightly. Then, more honestly, "It felt… good."
He stepped closer. "I'm proud of you."
The word settled deep in her chest.
That evening, an email arrived.
SUBJECT: University Admission Update
Kiera stared at the screen for a long moment before opening it.
Her breath caught.
We are pleased to inform you…
She covered her mouth, tears spilling over before she could stop them.
"Kade," she whispered.
He was beside her in an instant. "What is it?"
"I got in," she said, laughing through tears. "I actually got in."
He pulled her into a hug, lifting her slightly off the floor. "I knew you would."
She clung to him, overwhelmed. "I'm scared."
"I know," he murmured. "But you're ready."
The weeks that followed demanded adjustment.
Kiera's days became a careful balance of classes, caring for Leo, and learning how to exist under quiet scrutiny. Some days were easier than others. Some nights, doubt crept back in, whispering old lies.
You don't belong.
You'll fall behind.
This will be taken from you too.
On one such night, Kiera sat on the balcony alone, staring at the city lights with hollow eyes.
Kade joined her silently, handing her a mug of tea.
"You've been distant today," he said gently.
"I failed my first quiz," she admitted.
He blinked. "You… failed?"
She nodded, ashamed. "It was stupid. I froze."
"And?" he asked.
"And now I feel like a fraud," she whispered. "Like everyone will realize I don't deserve to be there."
He turned to face her fully. "Do you know how many times I failed before I succeeded?"
She glanced at him. "You?"
"Yes," he said. "I failed investors. Boards. Projects. Myself."
She frowned. "You never talk about it."
"Because people prefer the myth," he replied. "But success isn't clean. It's earned through falling and standing again."
She looked down. "I'm tired of falling."
He took her hand. "Then rest. But don't quit."
Her grip tightened around his fingers.
"I won't," she said quietly.
Not everyone adjusted as easily.
Leo began asking questions—innocent, curious ones.
"Are you my mom now?" he asked one night as Kiera tucked him in.
Her heart stuttered. "No, sweetheart. You already have a mom."
"But you stay," he said simply. "Moms stay."
The words stayed with her long after Leo fell asleep.
Later, she told Kade.
He listened carefully, then said, "He doesn't mean to replace anyone. He just knows you're safe."
"I don't want to confuse him," Kiera said.
"You won't," Kade replied. "You love him. That's not confusing. That's grounding."
Still, the weight of responsibility pressed on her.
She wasn't just building her own future anymore—she was shaping a child's sense of home.
The pressure came from another direction too.
A foundation Kade funded announced a public scholarship initiative. Reporters connected the dots quickly.
Speculation resurfaced.
Was Kiera the inspiration?
This time, Kiera didn't panic.
She walked into Kade's office, shoulders squared. "I don't want special treatment."
He nodded immediately. "You won't get it."
"I don't want people thinking I'm here because of you," she said.
"You're here because of you," he replied. "And anyone who says otherwise doesn't know your story."
She hesitated. "Sometimes I think I'm still waiting for the ground to disappear."
Kade softened. "It won't. Not because life is fair—but because you're not standing on borrowed ground anymore."
She breathed that in.
One evening, after a long day, they found themselves in the kitchen, moving around each other with easy familiarity. No tension. No fear. Just quiet partnership.
Kade watched her laugh at something Leo said, the sound light and unguarded.
That was when it hit him.
This wasn't a phase.
This wasn't chaos or distraction.
This was life—real, imperfect, alive.
Later, when Leo was asleep, Kade spoke the thought aloud.
"I don't want this to be temporary," he said.
Kiera looked at him, searching. "Neither do I."
"But I don't want to rush you," he added. "You're still healing."
She nodded. "I am. But healing doesn't mean I stop wanting."
He stepped closer. "What do you want?"
She didn't look away this time. "A life where I don't have to shrink."
He smiled softly. "Then don't. Not with me."
They kissed—not desperately, not like a promise sealed in fear—but slow, intentional, full of choice.
When they parted, Kiera rested her forehead against his.
"I'm still learning how to stand," she whispered.
"And I'm learning how to stand beside someone," he replied.
Outside, the city moved endlessly, unaware of the quiet victories unfolding high above it.
Kiera knew there would be setbacks. Failures. Old wounds reopening.
But she was no longer running from who she was becoming.
She was walking toward it—step by step—grounded, seen, and no longer alone.