Mornings at the Umbrella headquarters had developed a rhythm that felt less like a corporate schedule and more like a shared secret.
Wanda arrived a few minutes early, as she often did now. Her footsteps were a rhythmic percussion against the polished marble floor. The office was still in its twilight state—the overhead lights dimmed to a warm amber, voices from the atrium below muffled and low, while the Malibu coastline outside stretched itself awake under a lavender sky.
Aryan was already there.
She noticed the coffee first. It was in the same ceramic cup she preferred, placed exactly where she liked to sit. A thin ribbon of steam curled lazily upward, catching the morning light as if it had been timed to reach the perfect temperature the exact moment she walked through the door.
"You're going to start spoiling me, Aryan," Wanda said lightly, her voice like a soft chime in the quiet room.
Aryan glanced up from his tablet. A genuine smile touched his lips. "I prefer to think of it as efficiency."
She laughed, a melodic sound that seemed to brighten the dim office. "You say that about everything."
"Only about the things that actually matter," he replied, his gaze lingering on her just a second longer than necessary.
Their conversations had become like that—threaded with a warmth that hummed beneath the surface of mundane words. It was the sound of two souls settling into one another, day by day, layer by layer.
They no longer called it "training." At some point, the word had simply stopped fitting the intimacy of their sessions. It wasn't about a teacher and a student anymore; it was about two forces finding a center.
They stood near the floor-to-ceiling window. Sunlight poured in like liquid gold, warming the air between them until it felt thick and sweet. Wanda closed her eyes, her breathing slowing into a rhythmic tide.
The crimson energy of the Chaos Magic began to stir, but it was different now. It felt like an extension of her heartbeat.
"Don't force the flow, Wanda," Aryan said gently. "Don't try to cage the storm. Just let it respond to you."
"I know," she whispered. There was no frustration in her voice, only a deep sense of peace.
He stayed close—close enough that she could feel the radiating heat of his body and the calm pulse of his own heightened vitals. He didn't need to touch her to guide her; his mere presence acted as a stabilizer. It helped more than any technical instruction ever had. When he was near, the chaos felt... quiet.
After a long moment, the crimson light faded back into her skin, leaving a faint glow in her cheeks. Wanda opened her eyes and exhaled. "That's… enough for today."
He nodded immediately, his eyes searching hers. "Good. You're finding the balance."
They took their break on the private balcony, the city below humming like a distant ocean. Wanda leaned against the railing, the sea breeze tossing a stray lock of hair across her face. She sipped her coffee, looking out at the horizon.
"Do you ever miss having nothing to do?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely louder than the wind.
Aryan considered the question, leaning his elbows on the rail beside her. "Sometimes."
She glanced at him, surprised. "Really? I pictured you as someone who couldn't stand a moment of silence."
"Sometimes," he repeated, turning his head to meet her eyes. "But I don't miss being alone with that silence."
Wanda smiled, a vulnerable expression that made his chest tighten. "I used to think being busy was how you escaped yourself. How you ran away from the things that scared you."
He looked at her then—really looked—looking past the power, past the Umbrella employee, into the woman who had become his world's gravity. For a heartbeat, the roar of the city and the hum of the machines inside faded into nothingness. There was only the sound of the wind and the look in her eyes.
The afternoon passed in a gentle blur. They walked the corridors together, discussing trivialities—upcoming board meetings, the endless paperwork of a global conglomerate, and a story about a stray cat the security team had secretly adopted on the lower floors. Wanda told him a story from her childhood in Sokovia, a half-forgotten memory of a summer fair, and she found herself marveling at how easily the words flowed when she spoke to him.
Later, as they sat near the window again watching the sun begin its descent, Wanda's energy flickered unexpectedly. It was a jagged spike of crimson that made her entire frame stiffen with a old fear.
Aryan moved closer without a thought, his hand covering hers on the table.
"Hey," he said quietly, his thumb tracing a soothing circle on the back of her hand. "It's fine. I'm right here. Look at me."
She exhaled a long breath, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders as she focused on the calm depth of his eyes. The flickering red light died down instantly.
"I didn't even panic," she said, sounding breathless and genuinely surprised.
"No," he agreed, his voice a warm caress. "You didn't."
Their hands remained joined. Her fingers lingered against his for a heartbeat too long, a silent acknowledgment of the electricity passing between them that had nothing to do with magic or serums. Neither of them pulled away.
Evening arrived unnoticed. The lights of Malibu shifted from gold to amber to a bruised blue. The city began to glow with a million artificial stars. Wanda gathered her things slowly, her movements lingering.
"We should go," she said, though her voice lacked any real desire to leave the sanctuary they had built.
"Should we?" Aryan replied, his voice low and teasingly soft.
They stood there for a second longer than necessary, the space between them charged with an unspoken promise. Aryan realized, distantly, that he wasn't just helping Wanda control her power anymore. He was helping her feel safe enough to finally exist with it.
And as she looked at him, her hand brushing his one last time before she turned toward the door, he realized she was doing the same for him.
———-
The following weeks at Umbrella became a blur of shared glances and quiet understandings. To the world, Aryan was the visionary CEO and Wanda was his most trusted operative, but within the glass walls of the executive suite, a much softer reality had taken root.
The morning sun crept over the horizon, painting the office in shades of rose and honey. Wanda moved through the space with a newfound grace, her presence feeling like a warm light. She found Aryan by the balcony, his silhouette framed by the waking world.
"You're early again," she murmured, stepping up beside him. The scent of her perfume—something like rain and crushed jasmine—mingled with the salt of the sea air.
Aryan turned, his expression softening in a way he only allowed when they were alone. "The day feels incomplete until you arrive, Wanda. Efficiency is just the excuse I give the board."
She stepped closer, her hand resting on the railing just inches from his. "Then stop being the CEO for a moment. Just be here."
They moved to their usual spot by the window. There was no need for grand instructions or the rigid structure of a laboratory. When they were together, the air seemed to hum a different tune. Wanda closed her eyes, letting the crimson threads of her power drift from her fingertips.
In the past, energy had been a jagged, terrifying thing. Now, under Aryan's steady gaze, it behaved like silk. It swirled around them, glowing softly, weaving a cocoon of light that shielded them from the rest of the world.
"It feels different today," she whispered, her eyes remaining shut. "It feels like it's finally at peace."
"It's because you are at peace," Aryan said, his voice dropping to a intimate register. He stepped into the orbit of her power, the crimson mist brushing against his skin. He reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek, the heat of his palm radiating against her skin.
Wanda opened her eyes, and for a moment, the world outside—the billion-dollar company, the hidden agencies, the looming threats—simply ceased to exist. There was only the gold of the sun in his eyes and the red of her magic reflecting in them.
As the sun climbed higher, they retreated to the balcony. The city of Malibu was a frantic hive below them, but up here, time had slowed to a crawl. They leaned against each other, a gentle gravity drawing them together until her shoulder rested against his chest.
"I used to be so afraid of the future," Wanda said, her voice a fragile confession. "I thought I was just waiting for the day I'd break and lose everything."
Aryan shifted, his arm finding its way around her waist, pulling her flush against him. It was a move of protection—a silent vow that he would be the anchor to her kite. "You aren't going to break, Wanda. And even if the world tried, I'd be the one holding the pieces together."
She looked up at him, her heart thudding a rhythmic beat against her ribs. "Why do you do it? Why me?"
Aryan brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch lingering. "Because in a world full of noise and masks, you're the only thing that's real to me.
The afternoon light began to fade into a romantic amber. They stayed like that for hours, talking about nothing and everything. They spoke of dreams they hadn't dared to have and a future that felt, for the first time, like a gift.
When their hands finally met, fingers intertwining, it was a lock clicking into place. It was the feeling of two separate paths finally merging into a single, golden road.
"I don't think I can go back to how it was before," Wanda whispered, her head resting on his shoulder as the first stars began to peek through the twilight. "Before you."
"Then don't," Aryan replied, his chin resting atop her head. "We'll just stay here. Together."
As the moon rose over the Pacific, casting a silver path across the water, the two of them stood as a single silhouette against the glass. The CEO and his shadow, the King and his Queen, bound by a power the world couldn't understand and a love that made even the gods seem small.
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