Days had passed since Grayson's confrontation, and the apartment felt unbearably empty. Every corner echoed with Vivienne's absence — the faint hum of her music, the scent of her cooking, the warmth she brought with even the smallest gestures. He had expected relief after confronting her, but instead, the silence gnawed at him, relentless.
He wandered from room to room, restless, craving a glimpse of her. Even breakfast — the routine he had cherished — was gone. No sizzling eggs, no freshly brewed coffee, no soft laughter drifting from the kitchen. He had grown used to her presence, to her small, comforting rituals, and now their absence made his chest ache with a longing he refused to admit.
Grayson tried to busy himself — work, meetings, calls — anything to distract from the void. But each task felt hollow, meaningless. His mind kept wandering back to her — the way she stirred sauces, the way her hair fell across her shoulder when she laughed, the warmth in her hands as she handed him a cup of coffee. He hated himself for needing her, for wanting her, but the truth was undeniable: he could not stand another day without her.
Meanwhile, Vivienne stayed mostly in her room, locked away from the world. She avoided Grayson's gaze, the living room, and kept herself wrapped in small tasks. The apartment was quiet, almost peaceful — but underneath, a storm of unspoken emotions raged.
Her phone buzzed one afternoon. It was her sister.
"Vivienne, please. Just give him a chance. See him beyond the contract. Get to know him. You'll regret it if you don't."
Vivienne stared at the screen, her heart tugged in ways she didn't understand. Beyond the contract… she repeated silently, chewing on the words. But fear, pride, and confusion held her back. She wasn't ready to open herself, not yet.
That evening, taking her sister's advice to heart, Vivienne came down to make dinner. She moved through the kitchen with careful steps, trying to seem casual, but Grayson froze the moment he saw her. Relief, longing, and guilt hit him all at once.
"Vivienne… I…" His voice trembled, choked with emotion.
She looked up, eyes soft. "I forgive you, Grayson. It's done."
Grayson's chest tightened. That's when he noticed it — a faint, purplish bruise on her hand.
"You got hurt?" he asked sharply, stepping closer. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I… it's nothing. I'm fine," she replied, trying to downplay it, but he wasn't having it.
"No. You're not fine if you have bruises from this. Tonight, you're letting me take care of you. Dinner, my treat. Outside. You and me."
Her heart skipped. He saw a flicker of hesitance in her eyes, quickly replaced with curiosity, She nodded. "Okay."
The apartment, once suffocating with absence, now held a fragile warmth. The first step had been taken. Grayson's longing was no longer silent, and Vivienne's walls had begun to crack.