The Stranger I Married-Chapter 127: What I wished for
The rain had started again, a soft drizzle tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows like fingertips drumming a lullaby. The sky was a muted silver, clouds stretched thin across the horizon, making the world outside feel distant and slow. Inside the penthouse, time bent gently around them, all sharp edges dulled by the storm’s hush and the soft glow of lamplight.
Nicholas returned to the living room with two mugs in hand—one dark green ceramic, the other a pale cream one he knew she liked. Ella was curled up on the oversized couch, buried beneath a knit throw blanket that had once belonged to his grandmother. She looked tiny, tucked in with pillows on either side, her bandaged wrist resting lightly on her stomach, her hair loose and damp from the bath he’d helped her with earlier.
Her head turned at the sound of his steps, eyes lighting when she saw him.
"Is that—?"
"Chamomile and honey," he confirmed, offering her the cream mug first. "The closest thing to a sleeping potion I could find without calling my pharmacist."
Ella took it with both hands, careful. Her fingers brushed his for a second too long.
He sank down beside her, one arm draping along the back of the couch so his hand could thread lightly through her hair. She closed her eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the tea and the proximity of him settle into her bones. Every part of her still ached, but it felt... distant now. Manageable. When he was close, everything softened.
Nicholas’s thumb brushed along her temple. "You’re still too quiet."
"I’m relaxed," she murmured, taking a small sip. "Not everything is a crisis, Carter."
"Mm," he hummed, his voice playful. "You only call me that when you’re either irritated or flirting."
"Guess which one this is."
He laughed softly, leaning in to press a kiss to her hair. "Definitely flirting."
Ella sighed into the curve of his shoulder, nestling closer until their sides aligned. The blanket shifted, and Nicholas tugged it up gently to cover them both.
The TV played some old classic movie in the background—black and white, no one really watching—but the flickering light gave the room a softness that made it feel like a memory in the making.
She turned her head slightly, her cheek against his chest. "Did you ever imagine your weekend would end with you spoon-feeding someone oatmeal and carrying them to bed?"
"I imagined worse," he murmured. "Like getting through another Friday night gala where I’d have to listen to eight investment bankers argue about yachts."
Ella snorted. "Poor billionaire."
"You’re mocking me."
"Only a little."
Nicholas grinned, then set his mug aside and shifted to face her more fully. His knuckles skimmed down her cheek, and then his fingers found the edge of the blanket near her collarbone, tucking it gently beneath her chin. "You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine, you know."
"I’m not pretending," she said softly. "Just... letting myself be still."
"That’s new."
She tilted her head. "You make it easy."
There was something raw in the way he looked at her then. His thumb paused at her jaw, his breath catching.
"I’ve never wanted someone to feel safe with me more than I do with you."
She blinked slowly, her fingers curling into his shirt. "You do make me feel safe, Nicholas."
He dipped his head, brushing his lips against her temple, then lower—cheekbone, jaw, the tip of her shoulder. Each kiss was barely there, like he was memorizing her skin rather than claiming it. She shivered, but not from cold.
The moment stretched between them, delicate and warm.
"Stay here tonight," she whispered, even though she knew he would. "Just like this."
"I wasn’t going anywhere," he said against her hair. "Not ever again."
They stayed that way for a long time, curled together under the blanket, their breathing synced like a quiet rhythm neither wanted to break.
At some point, he reached for the remote and lowered the volume on the movie. The rain had picked up, a steady patter now, and Nicholas shifted to lie back against the couch, pulling her fully into his arms so her head rested on his chest.
"Tell me something about you I don’t know," she murmured.
He smiled faintly. "Like what?"
"I don’t know. Something mundane. Something soft."
Nicholas thought for a second, fingers stroking lightly along her back. "When I was ten, I got lost in Paris."
Ella looked up slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah. My parents were in a meeting, I snuck off to find a pastry shop I’d seen earlier. I ended up halfway across the arrondissement."
"Did you cry?"
"I pretended not to. But a very kind woman gave me a croissant and called the embassy."
Ella laughed quietly. "That’s painfully on-brand."
He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Even lost and terrified, you still found the most expensive pastry in the city."
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "What about you?"
She hesitated, then offered: "I used to wish on airplanes."
Nicholas blinked. "Airplanes?"
"Yeah. We didn’t see stars often in the city, but sometimes I’d see a plane blinking through the clouds. I’d close my eyes and make a wish."
His heart tugged. "What did you wish for?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "That someone would come back for me."
He went still.
The silence wrapped around them like a second blanket. Ella didn’t look up—didn’t have to. She felt the change in his breath, the way his hand stilled against her back.
"Someone did," he said eventually, his voice hoarse.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. You."
Nicholas swallowed hard and pulled her closer, like there was any chance she could slip away now. She could feel how tightly he held her—how much control he usually wore like a second skin had peeled away completely in the past few days.
"Do you still make wishes?" he asked softly.
She thought for a moment.
"No," she whispered. "I think I have what I wished for."
Nicholas closed his eyes, his lips pressed into her hair. For a man who built empires, who sat at the helm of power and influence, he felt humbled in her arms. Grounded. Real.
And he never wanted to leave this room.
Outside, the storm deepened—but inside, everything was warm.
