The water was almost too hot. It licked at Auden's skin, raising a flush across her chest and shoulders as she eased deeper into the bath. Bubbles clung to her arms, slipping against her fingers as she trailed them over the surface. Steam curled around her face, dampening her lashes.

She let out a slow, steady breath, willing herself to relax.

But she couldn't.

Her mind had been restless all day, caught in a quiet, gnawing dread. Cillian hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Not even to say the divorce was final.

Not even to say it was done.

She wanted to be patient, to be understanding. She wanted to be the kind of person who could give him space to grieve without making it about herself. But ever since the holiday party, doubt had been creeping into her bones like cold air seeping through a cracked window.

He still loved Jenni.

Auden clenched her jaw. That much had been obvious. It wasn't that she thought he wanted to be with Jenni — not after everything — but love wasn't something that simply vanished because you wanted it to. Pieces of him would always belong to her. Pieces Auden could never touch.
Could she live with that?

A knock at the bathroom door startled her. Before she could answer, Cillian stepped inside.

Auden sat up quickly, water sloshing around her. Her breath caught at the sight of him — his face looked worn, his blue eyes raw with exhaustion and something darker. He had been crying. The edges of his lashes were still damp, the faint sheen of tears catching in the dim light.

"Are you okay?" she asked, already reaching for the edge of the tub, ready to climb out, to touch him.

He lifted a hand, stopping her. Not yet.

His silence tightened something in her chest.

Without speaking, Cillian began undressing, the movements slow, almost mechanical. His shirt hit the floor. Then his belt. Then the rest. When he finally stepped in behind her, the water shifted, rising around them, heat licking at her back as he settled against her.

Auden twisted her head to look up at him, the scent of whiskey mingling with the steam.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked softly.

Cillian ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face. Droplets of water slid down his temple, and for a moment, she was struck by the memory of the first time they kissed — rain dripping from his jaw, the warmth of his hands against her cheeks.

"Just a little," he murmured.

Auden swallowed. She wanted to ask again, to push him for an answer, but the weight in his eyes told her it wasn't about the drinking.

"What's wrong?"

She was afraid to hear the answer.

Cillian exhaled, resting his chin against the top of her head. His arms slid around her waist, his hands pressing flat against her stomach as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.

Then, softly, almost brokenly, he murmured, "I love you."
Auden stilled.

Something was wrong. She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his voice wavered on words that should have been steady.

"Tell me what's going on," she pressed, heart pounding. He wasn't like this. Not with her. He was always so certain, so direct. If he was hesitating now, it could only mean one thing.

He was leaving her.

"I feel like I'm failing," he admitted, voice hoarse. "I have no desire to work. My son's family is now broken." He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost ashamed. "And I can't even keep you happy."

Auden pulled back, twisting in his arms. Water rippled between them, his hands slipping from her waist.

"None of that is true," she said firmly.

But Cillian only looked at her, something breaking apart behind his gaze. "What if I can't give you what you want?"

Auden felt the weight of his words before she even understood them. Her mind scrambled, trying to latch onto a meaning, but she was too caught in the way he was looking at her — like he already knew the answer would break them.

"Where is this coming from?" she asked carefully.

Cillian hesitated, then looked away. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't think I'll ever want to have another child. And I don't know if I'll ever want to get married again." His eyes flicked back to hers, searching, waiting for the blow to land. "Is that something you can live with?"

The breath left Auden's lungs. She sat there, still and silent, as the words settled in the space between them.

Marriage.

She had never been the kind of person who dreamed about wedding dresses and grand proposals. But she had always wanted the security — the knowing. The quiet promise of forever, spoken and unshakable.

Cillian didn't. And maybe he never would.

Auden swallowed against the rising lump in her throat, forcing herself to stay composed. This wasn't about her. Not really. This was about his divorce, about the wreckage Jenni had left behind. He wasn't saying he didn't love her. He was saying he was afraid.

She forced a smile, something small and wry. "Did Jenni say something to you?"

Cillian blinked, caught off guard.

"And so what if she did?"

Auden scoffed, shaking her head. "Because she's in your head. Were you even thinking about this before she said anything?"

His expression shifted, something guilty crossing his face. Cillian's gaze dropped to the bathwater, watching the way the bubbles dissolved around his fingers.

"No," he admitted.

Auden exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. Of course.

She moved closer, drawing her knees up as she studied him.

"We don't need to worry about this right now," she murmured, resting her chin on her arms. "I'm happy where we are. Can't we just... enjoy that?"

Cillian met her gaze, something uncertain lingering in his expression. But then, finally, he nodded.

"Alright."

Auden nudged him, teasing now, hoping to ease the weight in his chest. "I'm serious. You make me happy. Don't let her get in your head. She has no idea what's between us."

Cillian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Auden murmured.

His eyes softened. Slowly, he reached up, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed over her lips, tracing their curve like he was memorizing them.

"At least it's over now," he whispered. "I'm no longer a married man."

Relief swept through Auden, but she kept her expression even. Instead, she took his hand from her face, pressing a kiss to his fingertips.

"So you're all mine now?" she murmured.

Cillian gave a small, tired smile.

"Yes," he said. "As it always should've been."

Auden let his words settle between them, the weight of them heavier than she expected. As it always should've been.

She traced slow circles over the back of his hand, feeling the rough edges of his calloused fingers. He had been gripping something too tightly today — probably a whiskey glass, or maybe just his own fraying composure.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The bathwater had lost its initial bite, now settling into a comfortable warmth. Steam still curled faintly through the air, wrapping them in something hazy and quiet.

Cillian lifted his hand, his thumb moving against her cheek, slow and deliberate.

"Do you believe that?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His brows knit together. "Believe what?"

"That it always should've been us." She searched his face, looking for something steady to hold onto. "Even though you still love her?"

Cillian flinched. Not in an obvious way, but she felt it in the way his breath hitched, in the way his fingers tensed against her skin. But he didn't look away.

"I did love her," he corrected, his voice hoarse. "For a long time, I thought that love was supposed to last forever. I thought if I tried hard enough, if I gave her enough of me, she'd never leave." He exhaled, shaking his head. "But she did."

Auden nodded slowly. She already knew this, of course. She had lived through the aftermath with him, had been there for the late-night unravelings, the too-early-mornings when the weight of it all was too much for him to carry alone. And yet, hearing him say it now, like this — so bare, so unguarded — still made something twist deep in her ribs.

Auden let her fingers drift lazily through the water, watching the ripples distort the reflection of their bodies. The bath was beginning to cool considerably, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to move. It felt like if they left, the weight of the conversation would settle too heavily between them, and neither of them wanted that.

Instead, she let the quiet stretch between them, her thoughts circling back to something she hadn't spoken about in years. Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment, or maybe it was just Cillian — how easy it was to let down her guard with him, even when it scared her.

She exhaled, her voice quiet when she finally spoke. "My father never got over my mom."

Cillian, who had been tracing absentminded circles along her arm, stilled. His gaze flickered to her face, but he didn't interrupt. He just waited.

Auden swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her bare skin. "She left before I could even remember her. Just... packed up one night and never came back." Her fingers curled against the surface of the water, as if she could hold onto the memory before it slipped away. "I don't remember much about her. Just glimpses."

Cillian's fingers brushed against hers under the water, a silent reassurance.

"My dad, though," she continued, shaking her head slightly. "He never stopped looking for her. Not literally — he knew she was gone for good — but he never dated. Not seriously, I mean." She let out a short, humorless laugh. "He once told me I looked just like her. That sometimes, when I walked into a room, it felt like seeing a ghost."

Cillian's brows furrowed. "That's a hell of a thing to say to your daughter."

Auden huffed out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Yeah. I think it fucked me up. I knew everytime he looked at me, he saw her. I was just a reminder of his pain."

She tilted her head back against the edge of the tub, staring up at the ceiling. "I think that's why I'm so scared," she admitted. "I don't want to be someone you're trying to replace."

Cillian exhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening. "Auden."

She didn't look at him. She couldn't. "I know you love me," she said quickly. "I know this is real. But sometimes I wonder if, years from now, I'll just be another ghost for you. Another thing you lost that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to find in someone else."

The words felt too raw, too close to something she had never dared to say out loud.

Cillian shifted, the water sloshing around them as he sat up straighter. He reached for her, his hands firm but careful as he turned her to face him. "Look at me," he murmured.

Auden hesitated, but she did.

His blue eyes were impossibly soft, but there was something fierce in them too. "You are not a ghost," he said, his voice low and steady. "And you are not her."

Auden swallowed hard.

"I don't love you because you remind me of something I lost," he continued. "I love you because you're you. Because you make me laugh when I forget how. Because you challenge me, and see me, and somehow make all the broken parts of me feel a little less sharp."

His fingers trailed up her arm, settling at the side of her neck, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. "If I ever lose you, it won't be because I was looking for something else. It'll be because I was too damn stupid to hold on tight enough."

Auden's throat tightened. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to.

"Okay," she whispered.

Cillian's eyes searched hers. "Okay?"

She nodded, her hands finding his beneath the water. "Yeah."

Cillian's fingers drifted from her cheek, down to her collarbone, then lower, until his palm rested flat against her chest, feeling the quiet thrum of her heartbeat beneath the water.

"Jenni left," he repeated, softer now. "And then there was you."

Auden swallowed. "And what does that mean?"

"It means I didn't know love could be something else," he murmured. "Something that didn't have to be earned or salvaged." His thumb brushed over her skin absently, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. "Something that just... is."

A lump rose in Auden's throat. She wanted to believe him.

Cillian let out a slow breath, leaning forward and pressing his forehead pressing against hers. "I know I haven't made this easy for you. And I know —" he hesitated, his grip on her tightening slightly "— I know it isn't fair to ask you to stay when I don't know if I can give you everything you deserve."

Auden closed her eyes. Again, there it was. Marriage. Children. A future built on promises he wasn't sure he could make. But that wasn't what she needed from him. Not right now.

She slid her arms around his neck, pulling herself fully against him, the water shifting around them. His skin was warm, his breath unsteady against her shoulder.

"Cillian," she murmured, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm not here because I'm waiting for a proposal. I'm here because I love you."

He exhaled sharply, like he had been holding onto something too tightly, too painfully.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. "I don't need an answer about the future right now. I just need to know that you're here with me. That this is real for you."

His blue eyes searched hers, something fragile flickering behind them. "It is," he said, the words thick with emotion. "It's the only real thing I have."

Auden let that settle in her chest, let herself believe it.
She reached up, trailing her fingers along his jaw, her thumb brushing over the faint stubble there. "Then let's start with that," she whispered. "And the rest... we'll figure it out when we need to."

Cillian held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded, a slow, deliberate motion.

"Alright," he murmured.

Auden smiled softly. Then, with the gentlest touch, she guided his lips to hers, sealing the words between them with something deeper, something that needed no promises.

Just presence.

As their kiss softened, Auden let herself sink against him, her forehead resting against his. His breath was warm, steadying, but her thoughts were anything but. Finally, she pulled away, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Her fingers traced idle patterns over his arm, feeling the ridges of the muscle beneath his skin. Everything about Cillian felt solid, grounding. And yet, for all the certainty she felt when she was with him, the future still stretched before them, uncertain and fragile.

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the thought settle between them. "Do you ever wonder if this is just the honeymoon phase?"

Cillian's arms, which had been holding her so securely, tensed slightly. He pulled back just enough to look at her. "You mean... if we're just caught up in the intensity of it all?"

Auden hesitated, then nodded. "It's all happened so fast. Us. This." She gestured vaguely to the space between them, to the way they fit together so seamlessly despite everything.

"It feels like we found each other at the exact moment we needed to, but... I don't know." She bit her lip. "What happens when the dust settles? What happens when we're just... normal?"

Cillian was quiet for a long moment. His hands moved absently, rubbing up and down her spine, like he were attempting to imprint the feel of it to memory. "I've thought about that too," he admitted finally.

Auden glanced up at him, surprised. "You have?"

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Of course I have. I know how easy it is to mistake passion for permanence."

Auden's stomach twisted. She hated how much those words hurt, even though she knew he didn't mean them cruelly.

"But," he continued, his voice quieter now, "what I feel for you... it's not just adrenaline. It's not just timing. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know that when I look at you, when I'm with you, I feel —" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I feel like I can breathe again."

Auden closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

"What if that changes?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian was quiet again, but his hold on her tightened. "Then we deal with it," he said simply. "We don't pretend it isn't happening. We don't make promises we can't keep. We just—" He tilted her chin up, making her look at him. "We just figure it out. Together."

Auden studied him, searching for any hint of hesitation. But there was only honesty in his gaze, something raw and real that settled deep in her chest.

She let out a slow breath, nodding. "Together," she echoed.

Cillian's lips twitched in the faintest smile. "For as long as it feels right."

Auden felt something in her ease at that. She reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering there. "I can live with that."

He smiled then, something small but genuine, and pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Good."

They fell into silence again, the weight of their conversation lingering, but in a way that felt less heavy now. More settled. The bathwater had gone cold, the bubbles nearly gone, and yet, neither of them could bring themselves to leave.