Chapter 7 - The Light in the GlassOne year later.
The autumn wind swept over Lake Michigan, blowing crisp golden leaves across the green lawns of the Lincoln Park estate.
The dark black glass and cold marble of Adrian's penthouse were long gone. We had moved into a historic, three-story brownstone filled with warm oak floors, large sunlit windows, soft velvet couches, and walls covered in framed photographs.
In the backyard garden, Grandma Bee—now completely cured, walking steadily without even a cane—was sitting at a white wrought-iron table, singing a soft hymn while teaching two neighborhood kids how to braid flowers.
I stood on the back porch, wearing a warm cream sweater, holding a mug of steaming hot tea, watching her with a full, peaceful heart. My father and Victor Park were serving long federal prison sentences in separate high-security facilities, their crimes finally brought to complete light.
A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Adrian pulled me back against his broad chest, burying his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling the scent of my hair. His hands—bare, unloved no longer—were interlocked with mine over my stomach.
Over the last twelve months, through specialized therapy and constant contact with my synthesized antibodies, Adrian’s nervous system had completely healed. He no longer needed gloves. He could walk through the world, shake hands with his colleagues, and feel the cold lake breeze against his skin without pain.
But out of all the things in the world he could touch, I was still his favorite.
"What are you thinking about?" Adrian whispered into my ear, pressing a soft, warm kiss to the side of my neck.
I turned around in his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, looking up into those dark hazel eyes that I had grown to love more than life itself.
"I was thinking about that night on the sixty-seventh floor," I smiled, running my fingers softly through his dark hair. "When I fell asleep in your seventy-thousand-dollar chair."
Adrian chuckled, a rich, deep sound that warmed my entire soul. He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine.
"That was the best decision you ever made," he murmured softly.
"I broke your phone, Adrian," I teased, smiling against his lips. "And I yelled at you."
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"You woke me up, Maya," Adrian said, his tone turning sweet, sincere, and deeply emotional. "I was dead inside that tower for twelve years. And you woke me up."
He brought his lips down to mine in a deep, passionate kiss that carried all the warmth, safety, and love we had fought so hard to build. The autumn sun shone down brightly over the garden, bathing us in a brilliant, everlasting light, and for the first time in both our lives, neither of us felt cold anymore.
