My Wives are Beautiful Demons

The steam from the water still rose in gentle swirls around the tub, and the silence in the suite was broken only by the slow and steady sound of bubbles bursting on the surface.

Roxanne was passed out... not from weakness, but from deep exhaustion after such happy moments that she was surely dreaming now. Her body completely surrendered, enveloped by the heat of the whirlpool, her head resting lightly on Vergil's bare chest. Her face was serene, her lips half-open, her eyelids closed as if she had finally found rest after days of battle... internal and external.

She looked like an angel sent from heaven to him... and of course, he would prolong this as long as he could. Vergil didn't move. He didn't move, he just kept breathing normally so she could continue to feel his heart beating while she slept peacefully.

He kept his arms around her, one of his hands submerged, slowly caressing her back. As if he wanted to remind himself that she was there. That she was safe. That she was alive.

His purple eyes were lowered, fixed on the top of her head, on the damp, golden strands floating in the warm water. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. The silence carried everything: the relief, the tenderness, the unconditional love that he rarely let show.

With his fingertips, he gently brushed away a strand of hair stuck to her cheek.

"Always so sweet," he murmured, almost like a gentle scolding. "Your cuteness should be a crime, you know?"

He pulled her a little closer, tilting his chin until his lips touched her forehead. "It's good that we're in peace."

They stayed like that for long minutes, maybe longer. Time seemed suspended inside that luxurious and silent room. And even there, between the marble and the steam, Roxanne's presence was what made it all worthwhile.

Vergil closed his eyes, feeling the soft rhythm of her breathing against his chest. For the first time in a long time... he allowed himself to relax too.

She allowed herself to love without fear.

She allowed herself to stop running.

At least for that night.

Roxanne moved slowly, her eyelashes fluttering before her light blue eyes slowly opened. The first thing she felt was the warmth of the water. The second, Vergil's steady, steady heart beating beneath her cheek.

She let out a soft sigh, letting her fingers slide lazily down the side of his chest.

"Hmm…" she murmured, her voice slurred and hoarse with sleep. "Wow… you destroyed me."

Vergil arched an eyebrow, without opening his eyes, but the smile that appeared on his lips was unmistakable.

"Did I? I thought I was just helping you relax," he said, his voice low and full of restrained irony.

Roxanne let out a muffled laugh and, without moving much, lightly squeezed his waist with one of her arms.

"Relax… but it also melted me, turned me over, drowned me and left me without the strength to even think. Is that your idea of ​​'rest'?"

"Technically, you slept like an angel," he replied, tilting his head slightly to look at her. "I think I kept my promise."

"You're a shameless liar," she murmured, unable to contain her smile. "But a tasty liar, so… I'll let it slide."

Vergil let out a low, short laugh, as if he were trying not to wake someone who was still dreaming. But it was her. And she was already awake.

He brushed a drop of water from her cheek with his thumb.

"You should sleep like this more often," he said, with a fondness that only she could draw from him. "It seems like the world doesn't weigh so much when you're at peace."

Roxanne looked up at him, her eyes softer now.

"It's just that, with you… sometimes, I forget that the world exists."

For a moment, everything went silent again. It wasn't the heavy silence of before, but a comfortable silence, the kind that only exists between two people who have said enough with their touch, with their gaze, with their breathing.

She climbed a little higher, her arms around his neck, and rested her chin on Vergil's broad shoulder.

"Shall we make this last a little longer?" she asked softly, as if she didn't want to break the spell.

He nodded. "As long as you want."

Vergil remained there, with Roxanne still resting on his chest, the two of them enveloped by the comfortable warmth of the water and the intimate stillness that only shared silence could provide. His hand still traced slow circles on her back, more out of affectionate habit than intention.

For a moment, he just watched the steam rise around them, as if time had lost its rush.

Then he murmured, in a calm, almost distracted tone:

"And now… what do you intend to do?"

Roxanne took a second to answer. Her fingers were playing with the wet skin of his shoulder, and her gaze seemed fixed on some imaginary point beyond the edge of the tub.

"I don't know," she replied with a soft sigh. "The truth is… I don't have many dreams."

Vergil glanced at her sideways, not saying anything, just listening.

She smiled, but not melancholy—it was a sincere, light smile.

"I just want to keep going like this…" Roxanne began, her soft voice almost lost in the distant sound of the water bubbling around her. "Eating sweets, laughing with you, getting into trouble when I feel like it… and getting stronger."

She looked up slowly, her blue eyes touching his with raw honesty. There was no drama, no insecurity—just that calm spark of someone who knew what she wanted and didn't need to shout to be heard.

"I don't want to stagnate, Vergil," she continued. "I know I'm behind, I just don't want to be that far behind. Not by comparison… it's not about overcoming. But… reaching, my husband is strong, I have to be strong." She paused, her fingers absently tracing the outline of the scar on his chest. "For me. Because I know I can do more, and so can those others. And because walking by your side is better than watching you from afar."

Vergil didn't answer right away. He just stared at her for a long moment—violet eyes carrying that silent weight of someone who understands much more than they let on. She could see it in him: the admiration, the pride, and the kind of love that you don't shout, but feel in every gesture.

With a calm movement, he threaded his fingers through her wet hair, brushing away a strand that was stuck to her cheek.

"Roxanne…" he said, his voice hoarse and low. "You caught up with me a long time ago. The truth is, I only keep running… because I know you're right behind."

She blinked, surprised for a moment—and then smiled. One of those small smiles, full of truth. No armor. No masks.

She laid her head on his chest again, her eyes closing as if she had finally found a piece of home.

"Then don't stop, okay?" she murmured. "Never stop."

Vergil wrapped his arms around her tighter, closing his eyes as he let his chin rest on the top of her head.

"Not for a second," he replied.