Page 42 of Shattered Obsession

“You never have to thank me for that, Thalia. This is yours as much as it’s mine. Always.” The weight of his words settles comfortably in my chest, filling the space within me that had felt so empty for far too long. I curl closer to him, letting the safety of his embrace anchor me in a way I’ve never fully experienced before. For the first time, I don’t feel haunted by the past; instead, I feel whole.

When our eyes lock, something deep within me shifts, a silent acknowledgment that the fear still lingering inside me will not overpower me any longer.

I lean in, kissing him deeply, tasting the promise of this moment. When I pull back, my voice steadies with newfound conviction. “I want this. Tonight. All of it.”

For a heartbeat, I see the flicker of hesitation in his gaze, always checking for my certainty, but when he catches the undeniable resolve in my expression, his response is immediate. He nods, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

“Then we’ll do this together.”

Every step forward is deliberate and unhurried. I am acutely aware of the way his hands move along my skin, the warmth of his touch igniting my senses.

His voice, a whisper of assurance, cuts through any lingering doubt. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel right.”

He pauses, allowing me the time to breathe, to find my footing before he moves further. Panic flares up within me at times, brief flashes of memories that claw at the edges of my mind, ghosts of hands that were not Xander’s, but each time, I root myself in the present moment. The way he says my name carries a promise, a melody that reassures me.

When the final barrier breaks, it’s nothing like the first time I experienced with Damian; there’s no overwhelming chaos of fear and pain. The tears that fall aren’t about the act itself; they’re about everything it represents. The girl who once froze now moves. The girl who once flinched now reaches. The woman I am now knows she’ll never be powerless again. Every breath feels like proof. This moment is defined by choice, my choice. It feels like reclaiming a piece of myself that I feared was lost forever. I grip his shoulders tightly, a tear escaping the corner of my eye—not from panic, but from an overwhelming sense of relief.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “I’m really okay.”

In this moment, intertwined within each other, our bodies entangled and hearts racing, the intimacy we share transforms from mere survival into something profound, something that feels unmistakably like love.

The first sensation that greets me as I wake up is the gentle flow of sunlight cascading through the window, soft and golden, wrapping me in a warm embrace. The second is the comforting weight of Xander’s arm draped protectively across my waist, his breath flowing steadily against the back of my neck. I wake without the clenching grip of tension. There’s no jolt of panic or shadows crowding my thoughts, only a profound sense of peace.

As I shift, his arm responds, tightening around me and pulling me closer, like a silent promise that he won’t let go. “Mmm,” he murmurs, his voice thick and rough with the remnants of sleep. “Don’t move. Stay right here.” A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I bury my face deeper into the pillow.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

We spend a lazy morning wrapped up in each other, time feeling almost suspended as we have no desire to leave. He brushes soft, lazy kisses along my shoulder, each one sending shivers down my spine, while I trace gentle patterns along his forearm, savoring the lightness of our connection. Everything feels soft and uncomplicated, as if the outside world has simply melted away, leaving only us in this serene bubble.

At one point, he props himself up, his tousled hair sticking out in every direction, giving him an endearing, boyish charm that makes my heart flutter. “You okay?” he asks, his expression attentive and genuine.

More than okay. But the word feels too small to encompass the tidal wave of emotion surging through me. “I’m… happy,” I finally reply, each syllable filled with the truth I’ve longed to express. “Really, truly happy.”

He leans down and kisses me once more, softly, like he’s sealing a promise that we both intend to keep.

Later, when he steps into the shower, I seize the moment and grab my phone from the nightstand. My fingers hover over the screen for a heartbeat, contemplating what to say before I type.

Thalia

Isla, I did it. We did it. And I’m okay.

The reply comes swiftly, packed with energy and enthusiasm, teeming with exclamation points and heart emojis.

Isla

Thal! I’m so proud of you. You’re incredible. That’s HUGE! I love you!

Tears gather in my eyes, but this time, they’re not heavy, a testament to newfound joy. I press the phone against my chest, allowing myself to breathe in the pure celebration of it all. The air in the room feels different now, lighter, warmer, charged with something that isn’t fear. Maybe this is what surviving looks like when you stop fighting it and start living inside it. Isla sends a voice memo.

“You don’t owe me updates. But thank you for sharing this with me. I know how hard you’ve worked for peace.”

I listen to it three times.

Her voice isn’t pity.

It’s pride.

I breathe in that feeling, the rare sensation that the people who love me don’t view me as fragile but fierce.