Part I — Home Is a Person
Aurelia's POV
A few days later, I was at home when the accident happened.
It began with a smell of smoke and an alarm that startled me out of my concentration.
For a moment, I stood there trying to understand what was happening.
Then I saw the smoke near the back of the house.
I left immediately and called for help from outside.
The fire services arrived quickly. By the time Vincent reached the house, I was standing across the street, wrapped in a blanket someone had given me.
He got out of his car before it had fully settled into its parking space.
"Aurelia!"
I turned.
He crossed the distance between us in seconds, his hands coming to my shoulders as he searched my face.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Vincent, I'm all right."
He pulled me into his arms.
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
He simply held me.
His breathing was uneven, and his hands trembled against my back.
I realised then that he wasn't reacting to the damaged house.
He was reacting to the possibility that I might not have made it out.
"Hey," I whispered.
He held me tighter.
"I'm here."
He lowered his head against mine.
"I know."
But his voice broke on the words.
I wrapped my arms around him.
"It's all right."
He shook his head slightly.
"No, it isn't."
I looked up.
He swallowed.
"I was driving here, and I kept thinking about all the things I hadn't said to you. All the things I would never forgive myself for leaving unfinished if—"
He stopped.
I touched his cheek.
"Don't."
He looked at me.
"You don't have to finish that sentence."
His eyes closed.
For a moment, the world around us seemed to disappear.
Then he stepped back just enough to look at me properly.
"You're coming home with me."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Is that a request or an order?"
He exhaled shakily.
"A request. Please."
I took his hand.
"Then yes."
His shoulders finally relaxed.
He kissed my forehead.
And I realised that whatever damage had been done to my house, I wasn't going to face the aftermath alone.
The inspection confirmed that I couldn't return home immediately.
Vincent helped arrange temporary accommodation, but he made sure I understood that I had choices.
I could stay with a friend.
I could rent somewhere nearby.
Or I could stay at his house.
I chose his house.
Not because I had nowhere else to go.
Because I wanted to be there.
The first evening, I unpacked my things in the guest room.
Vincent watched from the doorway.
"Are you sure you don't want the larger room?"
I turned towards him.
"Vincent, it's a guest room, not a prison cell."
"I was merely asking."
"You've asked three times."
"I'm committed to the question."
I laughed. "Okay I will move to YOUR room"
"Really?"
"Move my things before I change my mind."
He quickly took my things and like a little baby he settle the things in his room.
He smiled, looking relieved to hear it.
I crossed the room and took his hand.
"Thank you for making room for me."
His expression softened.
"You don't have to thank me for that."
"I know."
I squeezed his fingers.
"But I wanted to."
He kissed my forehead.
"Then you're welcome, Little Swan."
That night, we ate dinner together, watched a terrible film, and argued about whether the protagonist deserved the ending.
For the first time in days, the weight in my chest began to ease.
The house was temporary.
The uncertainty was temporary.
But the feeling of being cared for without being controlled?
That was something I wanted to keep.
Part II — The Montclair Problem
Vincent's POV
Having Aurelia under my roof was dangerous.
Not in the way the tabloids would suggest.
In the way that made it impossible to concentrate when she walked into the kitchen wearing one of my shirts and complained about the coffee.
In the way that made me start looking forward to mornings simply because I knew she would be there.
In the way that made the house feel less like a place I owned and more like a place where I lived.
And I had absolutely no intention of pretending otherwise.
By the end of the first week, the office had stopped treating our relationship as a rumour.
Austin had begun calling us the firm's most distracting couple.
Evelyn had informed me that she intended to document every occasion on which I smiled at my phone.
Mr. Sanchez had merely looked at me one morning and said, "Sir, your schedule has been adjusted to accommodate lunch with Miss Vale."
I looked at him.
"I didn't ask you to do that."
"No, sir. You asked me to ensure you actually took a lunch break."
I paused.
"Fair enough."
He handed me a file.
"Also, the restaurant has confirmed the reservation."
I looked up.
"What restaurant?"
He smiled politely.
"The one you booked for Miss Vale's birthday."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"Your memory is excellent, sir. Your calendar management is less reliable."
Then he left.
I was beginning to suspect that my entire staff had formed an alliance against me.
Aurelia, naturally, found this hilarious.
I learned the art of bringing her favourite food to the office.
I learned that she appreciated flowers, provided I didn't expect her to stop working every time I gave them to her.
I learned that expensive dates were wonderful, but the best moments were often the ones that happened when we weren't trying to impress anyone.
Still, I enjoyed spoiling her.
One afternoon, I arranged for her favourite sour sweets to be placed inside a bouquet of flowers.
When she opened the wrapping, she stared at the contents.
Then at me.
"Vincent."
"Yes?"
"Why are there sour things in my bouquet?"
"Because you like them."
She looked at the flowers.
Then at the food.
Then back at me.
"You are aware that this is absurd."
"Entirely."
She laughed and kissed my cheek.
"You're learning."
"An ongoing process."
By then, our flirting had become an office-wide nuisance.
Austin and Evelyn were no better, which meant they had no moral authority to complain.
When I passed Aurelia in the corridor, I occasionally whispered something that made her roll her eyes. Or, I would slide my fingers into her so that she get a feel that butterflies exist…
When she entered my cabin, she sometimes stole my chair simply because she knew I would stand behind her and complain.
And when she called me my little baby in front of Austin, I seriously considered transferring both of them to a branch in another state.
Unfortunately, she kissed my cheek before I could formulate the necessary paperwork.
My career was in ruins.
The first headline appeared on a Thursday morning.
MONTCLAIR'S MYSTERY WOMAN IDENTIFIED: THE LAWYER BESIDE HIM
I stared at the screen.
Aurelia leaned over my shoulder to read it.
Then she burst out laughing.
"Your mystery woman?"
"I have several objections."
"To the word mystery or woman?"
"Both."
She sat beside me, still laughing.
Another headline appeared beneath it.
POWER COUPLE? VINCENT MONTCLAIR AND AURELIA VALE SPOTTED TOGETHER AGAIN
I sighed.
Aurelia patted my shoulder.
"Congratulations, Mr. Montclair. You're famous."
"I was already famous."
"Not for having a girlfriend."
He looked at me with a smile that was entirely too pleased.
"That is a considerable improvement."
I shook my head.
"You are impossible."
"And yet, you keep choosing me."
I leaned over and kissed him.
"Unfortunately."
He smiled against my cheek.
"Fortunately."
That evening, Aurelia received a call from her mother.
I was in the kitchen when I heard her answer.
"Hi, Mom."
She spoke in Italian for a few minutes, her voice softening in a way I rarely heard outside our quietest moments.
Then she glanced towards me.
I raised an eyebrow.
She smiled.
"Yes, we're together."
A pause.
"Yes, Mom. Officially."
Another pause.
"No, I'm not going to give you every detail of my relationship."
She listened.
Then she laughed.
"Because some things are private!"
I turned away to hide my smile.
When the call ended, she walked into the kitchen.
I looked at her.
"How did that go?"
She folded her arms.
"My mother would like to know when you're taking me to Italy."
I blinked.
"Would she?"
"Apparently, she believes that meeting you in person is necessary before she decides whether to approve of my choices."
I smiled.
"Reasonable."
Aurelia narrowed her eyes.
"You're not nervous?"
"Should I be?"
"She's my mother."
"That is precisely why I intend to make a good impression."
She studied me.
Then her expression softened.
"Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like to go home."
I understood what she meant.
Italy.
Her mother's house.
The streets she remembered, the places she missed, the part of her life that existed long before California.
I took her hand.
"Then we'll go."
Her eyes brightened.
"Really?"
"Really."
She threw her arms around me.
I caught her, laughing as she kissed my cheek.
"When?"
I held her close.
"As soon as we can arrange it."
She leaned back to look at me.
"You realise my mother will interrogate you."
"I've survived cross-examination from people considerably less intimidating than your mother."
She laughed.
"That confidence is going to be your downfall."
"Then I shall meet my downfall in Italy."
She kissed me.
And for the first time, the thought of travelling somewhere without a case to solve felt like the beginning of something extraordinary.
Part III — The Language of Forever
Aurelia's POV
Italy was home in a way no other place could be.
The moment we arrived, familiar sounds and scents seemed to surround me.
The language.
The streets.
The warmth of a place that had known me long before I became a lawyer, long before I became Aurelia Vale, the woman who could argue with Vincent Montclair for an entire afternoon and still fall asleep smiling beside him.
Vincent noticed everything.
He noticed when I slowed down to look at an old building.
He noticed when I stopped to listen to a conversation in Italian.
He noticed when I smiled at a familiar street corner.
He didn't rush me.
He simply walked beside me, holding my hand.
When we arrived at my mother's house, she greeted me with an embrace that nearly lifted me off the ground.
Then she turned towards Vincent.
He stood straight.
Very straight.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
"Mom, this is Vincent."
She studied him for a long moment.
"Vincent Montclair."
"Yes, ma'am."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You look more nervous than you do in those photographs."
I stared at her.
"Mom!"
Vincent, to his credit, smiled.
"Your daughter has mentioned that you're difficult to impress."
My mother laughed.
"Oh, she has, has she?"
"Only in the context of your excellent judgment."
I turned towards him.
"That was smooth."
He murmured, "I'm fighting for my life, Vale."
I nearly lost it.
Dinner became an interrogation.
Not an unfriendly one.
My mother wanted to know who Vincent was when nobody was watching.
How he handled disagreements.
What he believed made a relationship last.
Whether he understood that my career mattered to me.
Whether he expected me to give up anything I had worked for simply because I loved him.
Vincent answered carefully.
He didn't pretend he would always get everything right.
He didn't promise that we would never argue.
He told her that he wanted to support my ambitions, that he respected my independence, and that he hoped we would always be able to speak honestly when something was wrong.
At one point, my mother asked him, "And what happens when Aurelia disagrees with you?"
He looked at me.
"Usually, I discover that she has a point."
I laughed.
My mother smiled.
"And when she doesn't?"
"Then I explain my reasoning, she explains hers, and we determine which argument survives."
I stared at him.
"Romantic."
He squeezed my hand beneath the table.
"I'm trying."
My mother laughed.
By the end of the evening, she had begun asking him questions about his family, his work, and the things he enjoyed when he wasn't in a courtroom.
She listened to his answers with growing warmth.
Later, when Vincent stepped outside to take a call, my mother turned towards me.
I braced myself.
"Well?"
She smiled.
"I like him."
I blinked.
"That quickly?"
"He listens when people speak. He answers honestly. And when you look at him, you forget to pretend you aren't happy."
I looked away.
"Mom."
She took my hand.
"Does he treat you well?"
I thought of the arguments, the apologies, the way he had rushed to my house when he heard about the accident.
The way he remembered my favourite food.
The way he never made me feel that my ambitions were something I needed to apologise for.
"Yes," I said quietly. "He does."
My mother smiled.
"Then let yourself be happy, Aurelia."
I hugged her.
And for the first time since leaving Italy, I felt as though all the different parts of my life had finally found their way into the same room.
Vincent's POV
I had prepared for the conversation with Aurelia's mother.
I had not prepared for how much I would care about her answer.
When I finally spoke to her privately, I did so with the seriousness I believed the moment deserved.
"I wanted to ask you something."
She looked at me.
"Go ahead."
I took a breath.
"I love your daughter. I intend to build a life with her, but I know that loving someone doesn't mean I can make every decision for them."
She listened without interrupting.
"I want to ask Aurelia to marry me when the time is right. I wanted to speak to you first, not because I believe she needs anyone's permission to choose me, but because I respect you and the place you hold in her life."
Her expression softened.
"Have you told Aurelia?"
"Not yet."
"Then how do you know she wants marriage?"
"I don't know for certain what her answer will be. That's why I intend to ask her, rather than assume."
She smiled.
"And if she says no?"
"Then I will listen to her answer."
I meant it.
I had spent too much of my life trying to prepare for every possible outcome.
This was one question I could not answer for Aurelia.
And I didn't want to.
Her mother looked at me for a long moment.
Then she reached across the table and placed her hand over mine.
"You have my blessing, Vincent."
I exhaled.
"Thank you."
"But remember something."
"Of course."
"Do not spend so much time planning the perfect future that you forget to enjoy the woman standing beside you today."
I smiled.
"I'll remember that."
She gave me a knowing look.
"And don't make her cry."
"I'll do my best."
"No. Do better than your best when it matters."
I laughed softly.
"Yes, ma'am."
When I left that conversation, I felt lighter.
Not because I had secured permission to make a promise.
Because I had been reminded of the responsibility that came with making one.
Now I had to ask Aurelia.
And I had to give her the freedom to answer.
Part IV — A Question Beneath the Waterfall
Aurelia's POV
Vincent told me we were going on a day trip.
That was all.
No destination.
No explanation.
No useful information whatsoever.
I should have known better than to trust him.
By the time we reached the entrance to Havasu Falls in Supai, Arizona, I was looking at him with deep suspicion.
"Vincent."
"Yes, Little Swan?"
"Why are we here?"
"Because you once told me you wanted to see it."
I stared at him.
He smiled.
I had mentioned Havasu Falls months earlier, during one of those conversations that wandered from travel to childhood dreams to places we wanted to visit someday.
I had never imagined he would remember.
I looked towards the turquoise water and the red rock surrounding it.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
"You remembered."
He took my hand.
"Of course I remembered."
I turned towards him.
"How long have you been planning this?"
He smiled mysteriously.
"Long enough."
I narrowed my eyes.
"That is not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
I laughed, then threw my arms around him.
He caught me easily.
For a moment, we simply stood there, surrounded by the sound of falling water and the beauty of a place I had wanted to see for years.
Then Vincent stepped back.
"Aurelia."
Something in his voice made me still.
He took both my hands.
"I have spent a considerable part of my life believing that if I prepared enough, I could protect myself from anything that might go wrong."
I looked at him.
"But loving you has taught me that the best things in life cannot be controlled into existence. They have to be chosen."
My heart began to beat faster.
He smiled nervously.
And Vincent Montclair, who could stand before a judge without flinching, looked suddenly uncertain.
"I love your mind. I love your stubbornness. I love the way you challenge me when I'm wrong and the way you laugh when you know you've won an argument."
I laughed through the sudden sting in my eyes.
"I love your independence. I love your kindness, even when you disguise it as sarcasm. I love the woman you were before I met you, and I love the woman you continue to become."
He took a breath.
"And I don't want to marry you because I'm afraid of losing you. I want to marry you because, in every future I can imagine, you're the person I hope to find beside me."
Then he lowered himself onto one knee.
I stopped breathing.
He opened a small box.
Inside lay an alexandrite ring.
The stone caught the light, shifting its colour as he moved it—a rare, beautiful change that made me stare in disbelief.
My favourite.
My actual favourite.
I looked at the ring.
Then at Vincent.
Then back at the ring.
"Vincent..."
He smiled, his eyes shining.
And then he spoke in Italian.
"Aurelia, amore mio, vuoi sposarmi? Voglio scegliere te, ogni giorno, per il resto della mia vita. Vuoi costruire il nostro futuro con me?"
(Aurelia, my love, will you marry me? I want to choose you, every day, for the rest of my life. Will you build our future with me?)
My mouth fell open.
He waited.
I stared at him.
Then I pointed at his face.
"When did you learn Italian?"
He laughed nervously.
"That is your first question?"
"VINCENT!"
He grinned.
"When I thought I was deeply in love with you."
I covered my mouth.
He shook his head, smiling.
"I wanted to ask you in a language that belonged to your home. I wanted you to hear the question and know that I had tried to understand a part of you that existed long before me."
My eyes filled with tears.
He looked up at me.
"Aurelia Vale, will you marry me?"
For once, I had no clever answer.
No sarcastic remark.
No carefully constructed argument.
Just him.
The man who had met me in the rain.
The man who had learned how to love me without trying to own me.
The man who remembered the smallest things and apologised when he got the important things wrong.
I jumped and danced happy dance.
Then I laughed.
Then I started crying.
"Yes."
His expression changed.
"Yes?"
I grabbed his face between my hands.
"YES, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!"
He laughed, relief flooding his face.
I threw my arms around his neck, and he rose to meet me, holding me close as I kissed him.
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
I stared at it through my tears.
Then I looked at him.
"You learned an entire language to propose to me?"
"Not an entire language."
"Vincent!"
"Enough to propose without embarrassing myself and on your birthday."
I laughed and kissed him again.
"I forgot its my birthday today"
"That's what makes this beautiful"
"You are never allowed to be this romantic without warning me."
"I'll put it in my calendar."
I hit his shoulder lightly.
He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles.
"My fiancée."
I froze.
Then I smiled so widely my cheeks hurt.
"Say that again."
He drew me closer.
"My fiancée."
I buried my face against his chest.
And for a long moment, neither of us moved.
The water continued to fall behind us.
The sunlight touched the ring on my finger.
And the man who had once been a stranger at a bus stand was now the man I had chosen for my future.
We stayed in the area for two days, enjoying the place without rushing from one activity to another.
The first evening, we sat together and watched the changing light over the water.
Vincent kept looking at my ring.
I caught him doing it three times.
On the fourth, I held up my hand.
"Would you like me to send you a photograph?"
He smiled.
"That would be helpful."
I rested my head against his shoulder.
"You're happy."
He kissed my hair.
"More than I know how to explain."
I looked at him.
"Good. Because I'm going to remind you of this proposal every time you annoy me."
"I would expect nothing less."
I laughed.
Later, in the privacy of our room, the teasing gradually gave way to quiet affection.
We kissed, talked, and held each other close, neither of us in a hurry to let the evening end.
When we finally settled together, I rested my hand against his cheek.
"Vincent?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for choosing me."
He looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
"You chose me too, Aurelia."
I smiled.
"Then let's keep choosing each other."
He kissed my forehead.
"Every day."
Slowly and steadily, We started to kiss, his hands moved all over my body until it found the right place where the kiss deepened, his hands were so efficient I couldn't held back my urge to ask more, his hands on my hip and slowly between my thighs, I felt going weak , I started moaning, his lips slowly once started with my lips, then my neck, which my hands tighten around his back of his head… I could merely sense the deep sensation when I unbuttoned his shirt and I took off my top, he lift me up and pressed me against the walls, my legs were curled up againt his body, his one hand was placed on my hips and other on back of my head, his kiss felt so deep and seducing…Until he pulled back and said, " Aurelia, are you ready?"
"Grumpy cat, I am your fiancée for a reason."
"Then I won't hold back."
He carried me to the shower, I in front of him opened my bra, but surprinsingly his eyes were locked in my eyes, and he removed his pants to, now both of us were naked, he slid his arms around my waist and back of my head, and pressed my against the walls, I could feel his body in mine , the height difference of us that made us even more eager to be seduced by each other, he lift me up while kissing me and turned on the shower, the cold water flowed over our body, I found his lips across my neck , " Ahh Vincent!!" I moaned
The cold water flowed over us, and I let out a small gasp, making Vincent smile.
"Cold?" he whispered.
"No." My voice was not at all steady
His smile softened. For a moment, he simply looked at me, brushing the wet strands of hair away from my face as though there were nowhere else in the world he needed to be.
"What?" I asked, suddenly conscious of how intently he was watching me.
"Nothing." His thumb traced my cheek. "I'm just trying to understand how I got this lucky."
I rolled my eyes, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "You must have done something right in a past life."
"Then I hope I get to spend every future one with you."
That silenced me.
Vincent Montclair, the man who could argue a case without blinking, had somehow discovered the one way to leave me utterly speechless.
I drew him closer and rested my forehead against his. The teasing faded into something quieter, something that belonged only to us. He kissed my forehead before gathering me into his arms, holding me as though he had all the time in the world.
"Still sure about me, Swan?" he murmured.
I looked straight into his eyes. "Every single day, Grumpy Cat."
He smiled, and I kissed him again.
Outside, the world continued without us. For once, there were no courtrooms, no cases, no secrets waiting to tear our lives apart. There was only Vincent, his familiar warmth, and the future we had chosen together.
And when he whispered my name, I answered by pulling him closer.
That night, we let the rest of the world wait.