Micah's POV

As soon as the words leave her lips, I take her hand and pull her inside.

The door clicks shut behind us, and I press her gently against the wall, heart pounding in my chest.

"Are you sure?" I whisper, my breath brushing her lips as my hands slide up to her throat, holding her there. Not hard, just enough to feel her pulse race beneath my fingers.

Her brown eyes are wide, pupils blown, and her lips part as she nods. "Yes... please."

God. 

She's trembling, chest rising fast, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.

Stephan doesn't deserve her. He never did. The same way he doesn't deserve anything good in his life.

Some selfish part of me feels triumphant knowing she's no longer his. That she's standing here, looking at me like I'm the only one she sees.

And then I kiss her - finally.

Her mouth is soft and warm against mine, and she melts into me like she's been waiting for this too. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us.

My mind spins at the first taste of her. It's intoxicating, heady...and I'm ready to drop to my fucking knees for her.

Her moan vibrates against my tongue, and I lose it. My hands grip her waist, then slide down to her hips, to the curve of her ass. She fits perfectly in my palms.

Soft, pliant.

When I squeeze, she gasps, a sound that goes straight through me, settling in the deepest parts of me.

"You like that?" I murmur, my lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

She doesn't answer. She just tilts her head, kissing down my jaw, her teeth grazing my skin before she sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

"Take it off," she whispers, tugging on my shirt.

"My hands are busy," I rasp, giving her another squeeze.

She huffs, grabs my shirt by the lapels, and rips it open, buttons scatter across the floor. I laugh against her lips, but the sound dies quickly when she kisses me again.

Her body is shaking. Mine's not any better.

When I slide my hand up her thigh and press against her, she moans my name, soft and breathless.

"Micah..."

The sound of it almost undoes me.

I tug at her dress, slipping the buttons loose until the fabric falls open. She's bare beneath the thin layer of her bra, and when I take one hardened peak into my mouth, she arches, whimpering like she's about to break.

"God..." she breathes, clutching my hair.

I could stay like this, touching her, tasting her  forever. And I'd never get tired.

But then I whisper against her lips, voice rough and low, "I want your mouth."

She blinks, confused. "You have my mouth."

"No." I kiss her again, slower this time. "I want your mouth...on me."

The air changes. She freezes. Her body goes still in my arms.

And instantly, I know I've pushed too far.

I step back, hands raised. "You don't have to. I shouldn't have said that."

Her gaze drops, cheeks flushed. "I shouldn't have... done any of this," she says softly. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "Don't be. I should've kept my promise."

She exhales shakily and straightens her dress, trying not to look at me. "I should go."

"Please," I say, reaching out before she can turn away. "Let me at least cook for you. You need to eat."

"It's fine, really-"

"I promised you a bath and food," I cut in gently. "That's all. No more lines crossed."

Her lips part, her eyes searching mine for a long moment. Then she finally nods.

"Okay," she whispers.

Relief floods me. I smile a little and squeeze her hand. "Thank you."

I lead her upstairs and run the bath, filling it with warm water and too many bath bombs until the scent fills the air. The bubbles nearly spill over the edge.

"There," I say quietly. "Towels and essentials are in the basket. I'll get some clothes for you. Once you're done, we'll eat. Then, we can talk, if you want to."

Her eyes lift to mine, soft and uncertain. "Alright."

I leave her there and step into my own shower, letting the water hit my back while my thoughts spiral.

Finally, she's here. Not as Stephan's wife,  but as herself. As the woman I've wanted for years.

And I swear, I'm not letting her slip away this time around..

---

When she comes downstairs, she's wearing my sweatpants and hoodie. A towel's still wrapped around her hair, and there's a shy smile playing on her lips.

She looks small and warm and so damn beautiful.

"Hi," I breathe out.

"Hi," she replies, glancing at the table.

Her eyes widen at the sight.  Lobster, potatoes, bread, and sauce. "This looks amazing, Micah."

"Thank you." I gesture toward the chair.

She sits, and I serve her, watching her eyes soften with every bite.

The way she eats, slow, savoring, with tiny sighs of pleasure, makes something inside of me ache. I've seen her starve herself for that bastard she calls  a husband, seen her break her back trying to please him.

But here, now, she looks... content.

And I can't help the burst of pride that settles in my chest for being the reason.

There's a bit of sauce at the corner of her lips, and before I can stop myself, I lean forward and wipe it away with a napkin.

She blushes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I murmur, unable to look away from her.

Something shifts between us again, quiet, fragile, but real. 

And before I can think twice, the words slip out.

"Marry me, Eva."

She freezes, spoon halfway to her mouth. "Wh..what?"

I swallow hard and meet her gaze. "Marry me," I repeat, voice low but certain. "Let me take care of you."

Eva's POV

My spoon clatters to the floor, and I freeze.

"Marry you?" I blink at him, sure I misheard. "Where is this coming from? What do you even mean?"

Micah leans back in his chair, his eyes holding that steady, unreadable stare that always makes my pulse race, except this time, it only leaves me uneasy.

He shrugs, lips twitching. "I mean exactly that. I want you to marry me."

A breathy laugh escapes me. "Micah, I just got divorced."

"I know," he says quietly.

"You're joking, right?"

He doesn't reply, only raises a brow.

My lips part. "You're serious."

"I am." He nods.

I frown, looking down at the half-eaten plates between us, as if they can make sense of any of this.

"I can't marry you." I stand, gathering the plates just to keep my hands busy.

He rises too, following me into the kitchen. "Are you still in love with Stefan?"

The question hits like ice water. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because if you hear me out, you might actually like the idea," he says. "Let's sit."

My heart thuds painfully as we settle on the couch, side by side. His nearness is grounding and dangerous all at once.

"What really happened this time?" he asks. "What broke the camel's back?"

"You were there," I mutter. "You saw it."

He arches a brow. "Kissing that woman at the event? Come on, Eva. He's done worse. That can't be it."

My throat tightens. I hesitate, memories pressing down like a weight I'd buried too deep.

"I loved him," I say finally, voice cracking. "I still do. We were together for ten years. Since college. I thought he was everything I ever wanted..."

Micah hands me a tissue without a word, just listening.

"It's the first time I've really said it out loud," I go on. "But after we lost the baby-"

His eyes soften. "The accident?"

I nod weakly. "He changed. We both did. And then came the cheating... each time more public than the last."

Micah's jaw flexes, knuckles whitening against his knees.

I sniffle, eyes burning. "But it wasn't the cheating that finally broke me." My voice shakes. "Last week, I got sick. Really sick. He was called but-"

The words fall apart, and the tears come hot and fast. Micah pulls me into his arms.

That memory shoves through the barrier I erected, and I find myself in that hospital corridor again, staring at Stephan as he fussed over his mistress.

"He didn't come?" Micah murmurs after a moment, his voice dragging me out of that place.

"I wish." My laugh is bitter, hollow. "He came. Just not for me." I swallow hard. "He was there, at the same hospital... taking care of Regina."

Micah stills, eyes flashing briefly. His breathing turns shallow, angry. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

I pull away, wiping my face. "It doesn't matter now."

"He's a fool for letting you go like that."

I don't reply. What could I possibly say?

He studies me, voice low. "Do you still want him back?"

I look up, startled. "What?"

"You still love him. Be honest, Eva. If you could make him regret everything, make him chase you, would you?"

Something dark and heavy flickers in my chest.  The reminder of all the humiliation, the mocking stares at events, the back-handed comments.

A bitter satisfaction I don't want to name floods my body.

"I want him to regret it," I admit. "To see what he threw away."

Micah's mouth curves faintly, and his eyes light up. "Then marry me."

I blink. "And what do you get out of this?"

"Nothing," he says, shrugging. "You know I care about you."

"Stefan will lose his mind."

"Good," he says simply.

I look down at my hands. "Is it crazy that I still miss him?"

"Not crazy," Micah replies. "Just human. You were together for ten years."

He stands and brushes a hand along my hairline, a soft touch that lingers too long. I shudder. "We'll go to the courthouse tomorrow."

My eyes widen, stomach twisting into knots. "Tomorrow?"

He smiles, that easy grin that always disarms me. "It's time you stopped being the one left behind."

---

"You look beautiful, wife," Micah teases the next morning, eyes skimming the pale blue dress that barely touches my knees.

It's what I could grab out of my suitcase on such short notice. 

Besides, what does one wear to a pretend marriage after getting a real divorce?

I roll my eyes, but my smile slips as soon as we enter the courthouse.

"We're really doing this?" I whisper, heart hammering as nervous butterflies fill my tummy.

He squeezes my hand. "Too late to back out now, Eva."

A clerk steps forward. "Mr. Grayson?"

They exchange a quick handshake before we sit. Micah hands over the papers, some I'd barely glanced at last night.

My leg bounces uncontrollably. I can't believe this is happening.

Micah's hand settles over mine, large and steady, anchoring me. I breathe through my nose.

"Alright," the clerk says, standing. "Shall we begin?"

We rise together and walk to the small arch at the front.

"We don't have rings," I whisper, suddenly remembering.

Micah just smiles, and taps his pocket. "I came prepared."

The clerk begins reading the vows, his voice echoing softly in the empty room. My mind spins, heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

"Do you, Micah Grayson, take Eva Valentine as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Micah's gaze never wavers. "I do."

He slides a dainty gold band on my finger. My mind spins.

In less than twenty-four hours, I've been divorced and now...married.

"And do you, Eva Valentine, take Micah Grayson as your lawfully wedded husband?"

My lips tremble, and I swallow thickly. "I do."

"I now pronounce you-"

The door slams open with a bang. We all look towards it.

I freeze, spine stiffening.

Marching down the aisle, eyes blazing, is Stefan.

Eva's POV

"What the fuck is this?" His voice booms across the hall, and in two more strides he's in front of me. "What the fuck, Eva?"

Micah shields me. "I suggest you keep your voice down, Stefan."

"Is there a problem here?" The clerk asks, brows pinched in confusion.

"No."

"Yes"

Micah and Stefan respond, and I gulp. Shaky fingers grip the hem of Micah's jacket, fear coursing through my veins.

In all my years of knowing Stefan, I've never seen him this angry. The veins of his neck protrude, thick redness coats his face.

He looks like he could kill, lips curled in a malicious sneer.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Micah," he snarls, shoving Micah.

Micah doesn't budge. "Do you have no decency? Courtesy? A wedding is going on."

"Fuck you!" Stefan spits, then his eyes meet mine from across Micah's shoulders.

My throat goes dry, pulse thumping frantically.

"Explain yourself, Eva."

My jaw tightens, and I force my spine to straighten. "I don't owe you any explanation."

His eyes flash. "Come again?"

"She said she owes you no explanation," Micah snaps. "Leave, Stefan. You had your chance with her and you blew it."

Stefan scoffs. "Wow. I see what this is. You've been after my wife, for a long time-"

"I'm not your wife." I step out from behind Micah. "You lost the right to call me that the moment you put other women above me."

He jerks back like he's been slapped, eyes wide in shock. And then he shakes his head.

"Isn't that hypocritical of you? I'm not the one getting married-"

"What the-"

Squeezing Stefan's arm gently, I shake my head at him. "I'll handle him."

Micah nods. Stefan cackles like a maniac, loud and obnoxious.

"You'll handle me?" He snorts. "You? The woman who's never spoken up for herself? The woman who begs people to stay in her life?" 

Words get stuck in my throat, eyes burning with unshed tears. Every word he speaks cuts, everything he says is true.

His lips curl. "Micah is not better than me either. He's gonna leave you, the way everyone leaves you."

My lips wobble, a tear slipping free, but I steel my spine, chin up. "You're right. But you didn't leave me, Stefan. I..." I jerk a finger to my chest, "I left you. I left your cheating, pathetic ass. I stood up for myself against you-"

"And you're gonna come back, Eva."

Maybe I planned to if he apologized and changed, but not anymore. Not when he chooses not just to hurt me with his actions, but with words.

Not when he puts me down, aiming to tear me down, to rip my soul from my body.

I won't give him that satisfaction. 

"I'd rather die," I spit, swiping a harsh hand across my face. "No one will love you the way I did, Stefan. No one will put up with you, and your horrible family the way I did."

Stefan's eyes darken, pupils blown. His fists clench at his side, muscles so tense he visibly vibrates. For a second, I think he'll hit me.

But he doesn't. "You know nothing about family. After all, you killed our family before it even begun-"

My heart stops. "D-don't."

"You," he hisses, "killed our baby."

That statement-spat out with so much hatred, disdain-lands like a weight in the room. It pierces into my soul, and it yanks at my heart.

For a second I don't hear anything else except those words ringing in my mind, over and over, and over.

I'm numb, unseeing, unfeeling. I don't feel the tears that roll down my cheeks, I physically can't.

The memory of that night bulldozes into my mind, and I'm plummeted back into that taxi, my side of the car slammed by another vehicle.

"That's enough, Stefan." Micah's voice pulls me back to the present. "Leave or I'll have to send my men in in."

Stefan's jaw ticks. "You're going to regret this, Eva. You too, Micah."

"Get out."

Stefan scoff, shakes his head and storms out of the premises.

Micah immediately pulls me into his arms, and I break. Guttural sobs rip from my throat as I grip his clothes will all my might.

"I..I d-didn't kill my b-baby," I hiccup, tears soaking the collar of his shirt. "I swear, Micah, I d-didn't..."

He rubs my back, drawing soothing circles. "Hey, hey. You didn't, I know that."

"I didn't kill my baby."

The words don't stop falling from my lip, they're broken, cracked but I don't stop saying it. Almost like I'm trying to convince myself, to assure myself that I didn't kill my child.

But the guilt doesn't let the assurance take hold. The guilt of being in that car, the guilt of not driving myself that night...god, it wraps around my chest, it gnaws at me.

And I know that I'm the one responsible for that miscarriage. I'm the one responsible for the loss. It's all my fault.

I'm lifted off my feet, carried bridal style by Micah.

"Let's take you home," he murmurs, and says something to the clerk I had totally forgotten about.

Soon, I'm placed in the car. But it's not any better, the accusation has etched itself deep in my chest.

Fears that I had have been confirmed. Stefan blames me for the loss of our child. And deep down, I know that our marriage broke because of that.

It's my fault and I deserve everything that has happened. Who am I to be happy? When I...I killed my baby.

"Eva," Micah calls softly.

I don't respond, staring out of the window as we drive.

This...this was a horrible idea.

"I d-don't think I can do this." My voice breaks, fresh tears falling.

He pauses. "Stefan is a tool, Eva. You can't take to mind what he says."

"He's not wrong."

"Surely, you can't believe you killed your baby, Eva."

When I don't respond again, he tilts my chin, eyes soft yet burning with quiet determination, and subtle hints of rage. 

"Listen to me, and listen well, Eva..." he whispers. "You're Eva Valentine, a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful heart. You carried your pregnancy with so much grace, and so much love..."

My lips wobble, a tear drops.

He catches it with his thumb, and continues. "I watched you glow with that baby. And I know that baby was loved for the few months it was inside of you."

A choked sob leaves my lips. "M-Micah..."

His words calm the storm in my mind, they settle something in the pit of my stomach. 

"You're perfect, Eva. So fucking perfect," he says, "and do you know what else you are?"

I sniffle, swiping my tongue against my salty lips.

His eyes dip to them, and back up to my eyes, jaw tightening.

"You're strong. And you're going to show Stefan what he missed out on. He's going to come back, Eva...even if he has to crawl on his fucking knees."

My head jerks on a soft nod, and I wipe my tears.

"So, what do you say? Are you ready to be Mrs Grayson? Are you ready to ruin Stefan?"

For all the hurt Stefan has caused me, all the messes I had to clean up after him, all the fights I had to endure.

Inhaling deeply, I make up my mind. 

Then, I nod.

"Yes."