Page 134 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Giving a stubborn patient an answer."

"The doctor said I can't handle stress."

"Then you'd better hold on."

I kissed him.

Soft. Quick. Barely there. But his hand slid to the back of my neck and held me. Not hard—just warm enough to make my spine light up.

He didn't deepen it.

He waited.

I closed my eyes and leaned in again, choosing it.

His breathing turned heavier. That familiar pressure woke up in him—but he kept it leashed, tight in his own hands. He brushed my lips slowly, like he was testing a boundary I'd finally allowed him to cross.

The monitor suddenly sped up.

I pulled back immediately.

Kiryan shut his eyes. "Fuck."

"The doctor warned you."

"Not my fault."

"Whose is it, then?"

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

"Yours."

My face went hot.

Great. Not even an hour awake and he'd already regained the ability to piss me off.

I tucked the blanket back up around him.

"That kiss doesn't erase what happened. Trust doesn't come back overnight."

"I know."

His eyes drifted shut, and his chest sank with a long exhale.

I squeezed his hand.

"But forgiveness isn't forgetting. We take it one step at a time."

"Okay."

He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles—careful, almost formal, like he didn't know how to do gentle without concentrating.

Outside, the rain eased.

We weren't going back.

Thank God.