Rebirth: Love me Again

[EVE]

One evening, I came to my room's living room which was converted to Bean's baby room after washing his bottles, wiping my damp hands on a towel, and paused mid-step.

The room was bathed in the soft golden hue of the setting sun. It painted the walls in gentle warmth, casting shadows that danced on the floor.

And there, in the middle of it, sat Cole.

He had fallen asleep in the armchair, head tilted slightly to the side, lips parted in peaceful rest. Bean was curled up on his chest, tiny hand fisted in Cole's shirt, rising and falling with each breath.

Both of them were completely still. Completely at peace.

The sight stopped me cold.

Something warm and aching expanded in my chest.

This man—this stubborn, overconfident, once-cynical heir—had somehow become the heart of my home. He showed up every day without fail. He changed diapers, told bedtime stories, made disastrous attempts at cooking. He laughed when I was tired, held me when I was overwhelmed, and always—always—put Bean first.

And somewhere in the midst of all that . . . I fell in love again.

No—deeper. This wasn't the fluttering, dizzy kind of love we once had before and reckless. This was something steadier. Something rooted.

I found myself walking toward him slowly, like I was being pulled. My heart beat faster, but not from nerves—from something softer. Fuller.

When I reached them, I knelt beside the chair and just stared at his face. His lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. A tiny scar by his jaw I had never noticed before. A peacefulness in his expression that was rare to find when he was awake.

Without thinking—without even hesitating—I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

It was soft. Brief.

But it was everything.

I pulled back, breath catching. My fingers trembled slightly as I brushed a stray hair from his forehead. My heart was no longer just beating. It was pouring. Overflowing with a love I could no longer contain.

I had tried to keep it quiet, tried to hold it in, thinking I had time to figure it out. But watching him now, the man who stayed, who chose us, who never complained even when he was exhausted—I realized that love had already bloomed all over again.

It had rooted itself in my bones.

He stirred slightly under my touch, but didn't wake. Just shifted, holding Bean closer.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I leaned in and kissed him again.

This time, it was longer.

Slower.

My lips lingered on his, savoring the warmth, the softness, the familiarity I had missed more than I wanted to admit. I felt him stir—and just when I was about to pull away, I felt it.

He kissed me back.

I gasped softly and pulled back, eyes wide in disbelief. "Y-you . . . you're awake?"

My face heated instantly. Embarrassment bloomed in my chest.

Why was I so flustered? It wasn't like I hadn't kissed him before. But something about this moment—this kiss—felt different. Like it was the first time that we had kissed again.

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, Cole reached up, cradled the back of my head gently, and pulled me forward—this time, deepening the kiss with a hunger that left me breathless.

His lips were firmer now, deliberate, and it melted every defense I had been building for months. I tried to resist, I really did, but I couldn't.

Because I had missed this. Missed him.

The strength of his arms, the quiet way he held me, the way his kiss said all the things we hadn't had the courage to say aloud.

My heart swelled until it felt like it might burst. All the feelings I had tried to bury, all the love I thought I could control—it was suddenly too much.

It overflowed.

By the time we pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads pressed together as we stared at each other like we were seeing one another for the first time.

"Does this mean . . ." he whispered, voice low and raspy, "that you finally accept me back?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came. The truth was right there, tangled in my chest, burning behind my ribs, but I couldn't say it. Not yet. Not with the weight of everything behind us still fresh in my mind. So I looked down, my cheeks flushing.

Cole, however, smiled—slow and sure. "Don't worry," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "If you're still having second thoughts . . . I've got a remedy for that."

My head shot up. "What?"

But he was already on his feet, moving in silence quickly. He gently lifted Bean from his chest and placed him carefully into the nearby crib. The little guy stirred but didn't wake, settling quickly into his bed.

I barely had time to process what was happening before Cole turned back to me—his eyes darker now, intense but still soft around the edges.

"Cole, what are you—"

He didn't let me finish.

With one fluid motion, he closed the distance, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me again—this time with no hesitation. No fear.

Just years of buried longing, of broken time and healed hearts finding each other again.

My hands found his shoulders, then his neck. I kissed him back just as desperately, my body answering before my mind could catch up.

Months of tension unraveled in that moment, every unsaid word, every missed opportunity pouring out between us.

The world outside faded. It was just us—the shared breaths, the racing hearts, the silence filled only with the hum of something inevitable.

He guided me gently toward the bed, every touch cautious, careful, making sure I could stop him at any moment.

But I didn't want to.

My body, my heart—they both ached for him in a way I hadn't let myself admit. I had been holding back for so long, convincing myself that I had to protect something—my pride, my heart, maybe even Bean.

But the truth was . . . I didn't need protection.

Not from him.