Adrian's POV
Weeks passed.
Weeks of pretending.
Weeks of sitting across from Kiss in boardrooms, discussing numbers, projections, expansions—like we weren't married, like we didn't share children, like she hadn't disappeared from my life and left a hole that never healed.
She was calm. Cold. Untouchable.
And I was losing my mind.
I watched her walk into meetings like she owned the air itself. Elegant suits. Chin lifted. Eyes sharp. Every word precise. She never stayed a second longer than necessary. Never looked at me unless business demanded it.
I told myself I could endure it.
I lied.
By the fourth week, I couldn't sleep. By the fifth, I stopped pretending I could breathe in the same room with her and keep my sanity.
So I did the one thing I'd avoided.
I called her.
"Come to the company," I said over the phone, keeping my voice even. "We need to finalize the partnership clauses."
There was a pause.
Then, calmly, "I'll be there in thirty minutes."
No questions. No suspicion in her tone. That hurt more than if she'd argued.
When she arrived, the office was empty. I had made sure of it.
She stepped inside my office, eyes flicking briefly around before settling on me.
"You sent everyone away?" she asked coolly.
"Efficiency," I replied.
She nodded once, accepting it, and took her seat across from me. "Let's begin."
For the next hour, we discussed business. Real business. Profits. Risks. Territory. Strategy.
Her mind was brilliant. As always.
But I wasn't listening anymore.
I was watching the way her fingers curled around her pen. The way she crossed her legs. The faint scent of her perfume drifting across the desk, wrecking everything I'd built to survive without her.
When she finished signing the final document, she stood abruptly.
"If that's all—"
"Kiss."
Her name left my mouth before I could stop it.
She froze.
Her back stiffened. Her fingers tightened around her bag strap.
Slowly, she turned.
"Yes?" she asked, guarded.
The room felt too small.
"Aren't you tired?" I asked quietly.
Her brows drew together. "Tired of what?"
"This." I stood. "This hiding. This pretending we don't exist to each other."
Her jaw clenched. "You're imagining things."
I took a step closer.
"You sneak into my life and vanish again," I said. "You look at me like I'm a stranger. You sit across from me like I didn't break when you left."
She scoffed and tried to move past me.
I caught her wrist.
The contact sent electricity through both of us.
"Kiss—"
"Let go of me," she snapped, tugging her hand free. "You don't get to do this."
"Do what?" I demanded. "Tell the truth?"
She laughed bitterly. "You don't get to pull me into your arms and pretend everything is fine."
"I'm not pretending," I said hoarsely. "I'm done pretending."
She turned on me then, eyes blazing. "You think I don't suffer? You think leaving was easy?"
"You left our children."
Her breath hitched.
"I left to protect them!" she shot back. "To protect you!"
Silence crashed between us.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. My hands trembled.
"I'm not playing games," she said, voice breaking. "You think I enjoy this distance?
You think I don't wake up every night wanting to run back?"
"Then why don't you?" I whispered.
She shook her head, tears shimmering. "Because I'm scared."
That was my breaking point.
I stepped forward and pulled her into me.
She gasped. "Adrian—"
"I can't do this anymore," I said against her temple. "I can't pretend you're not my wife."
She struggled weakly. "We shouldn't—"
I kissed her.
Not gently.
Not patiently.
Hungry. Desperate. Years of restraint shattering in a single moment.
She stiffened—then melted.
Her hands circled her arm around my neck like her body had betrayed her mind.
"Stop," she whispered.
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "Tell me you don't feel this."
She couldn't.
I kissed her again, slower now, deeper. My hands traced her back, memorizing what I never forgot.
She broke.
Her lips moved with mine. Her breath matched mine. Her resistance crumbled.
"Please," I murmured against her lips.
"Come back."
She didn't answer.
She kissed me harder.
I guided her back toward the sofa, not letting the kiss break, not giving her space to run again.
Everything after that was instinct. Heat. Familiarity. Need.
Nothing spoken.
Nothing promised.
Just two broken people colliding after too much loss.
Kiss's POV
I woke in the middle of the night.
The room was dark. Quiet.
Adrian lay beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist like he feared I'd vanish again.
My heart ached.
What have I done?
I turned carefully, studying his face in the dim light. He looked peaceful—so different from the man who stared at spreadsheets until dawn, chasing ghosts.
I pressed my palm gently against his chest, just above his heart.
His heartbeat was steady.
Strong.
Alive.
Tears burned my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
I rested my head there, listening to his breathing, letting myself remember what it felt like to belong.
The fear was still there. The danger hadn't disappeared.
But neither had love.
Ashley could wait.
The world could wait.
I needed to see my family.
I needed to come home.
For real.