MARRIED TO MY EX FATHER IN LAW

MIDNIGHT TALKS

LOLA'S POV

I can't sleep again.

Three AM and I'm staring at the ceiling, my mind spinning with thoughts that won't stop. Nightmares when I sleep. Anxiety when I'm awake. There's no winning.

Finally, I give up. Throw back the covers and pad downstairs in my pajamas and robe.

The mansion is quiet at this hour. Just the soft hum of the security system and my bare feet on the marble floors.

I head to the kitchen. Tea. Tea always helps. That's what Hannah says, and she's been right about most things so far.

The kitchen is dark. I flip on the light and nearly jump out of my skin.

Ocean is sitting at the breakfast table.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was..." I'm already backing toward the door. "I'll just go, I didn't mean to interrupt..."

"Lola." His voice stops me. "You're not interrupting. I couldn't sleep either."

I hesitate in the doorway. He's in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair slightly messed, a glass of what looks like whiskey in front of him. He looks... tired. Human.

Not the intimidating Capo. Just a man who can't sleep.

"I was just going to make tea," I say quietly.

"Make it. Please." He gestures to the kitchen. "You live here. You don't need permission."

Right. I live here. This is my house too now.

The thought still feels foreign.

I move to the stove, putting the kettle on with shaking hands. I can feel Ocean watching me. Not threatening. Just... present.

The silence stretches. I don't know what to say. Don't know how to talk to him.

We've barely spoken since the wedding. Just polite nods in passing. Careful distance.

But now we're alone in a kitchen at three in the morning and the silence feels heavy.

"How are you settling in?" Ocean's voice breaks the quiet. "It's been almost two weeks now."

Two weeks. Has it really been that long?

"It's... fine. Good. The house is beautiful." Safe answer. Polite answer.

"That's not what I asked."

I glance at him. He's watching me with those storm-gray eyes that seem to see too much.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I admit.

"The truth. How are you really doing?"

The kettle starts to whistle. I pour water over the tea bag, giving myself time to think.

"It's strange," I finally say. "Being here. Everything is so... different from before."

"Different how?"

"Different in every way." I wrap my hands around the warm mug. "With Ethan, I always knew what to expect. What the rules were. Wake up, make breakfast, clean, stay quiet, don't upset him. Simple."

"Horrible," Ocean corrects. "But simple."

"Yeah." I take a sip of tea. It burns my tongue but I don't care. "Here, I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What you expect from me. I keep waiting for someone to tell me I'm doing something wrong but no one does and it's just... strange."

"What do you think I expect from you?"

The question catches me off guard. I don't know how to answer it.

"I don't know. That's the problem."

Ocean stands up. Moves to pour himself more whiskey. Leans against the counter across from me, maintaining distance.

"I don't expect anything," he says. "That's not how this works. You're here because I wanted you to be safe. Not because I want you to cook or clean or... or anything else."

The way he says "anything else" makes my face burn. Right. He means he doesn't expect... that.

"But I have to do something," I protest. "I can't just exist here doing nothing."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not... people don't just..." I struggle to find words. "I have to earn my place somehow."

"You already earned it. By surviving." Ocean's voice is firm. "Lola, you don't owe me anything. You don't owe anyone anything. You're safe here. That's all that matters."

Safe. He keeps using that word.

"You say that. Everyone keeps saying that. But..."

"But you don't believe it yet," he finishes. "I know. Trust takes time."

"It's not just trust." I set down my mug. "It's... I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this to turn into something else. For you to turn into..." I trail off.

"Into Ethan."

"I don't think you're like him," I say quickly. "I just... I don't know how to exist in a place where no one's angry at me all the time. Where I'm not walking on eggshells constantly. It feels wrong. Like I'm forgetting something important."

Ocean is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is gentle.

"You're not forgetting anything. You're healing. That's what this feels like. Strange and uncomfortable because you're not used to it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it before. In this world. People who escape bad situations. They don't feel relief at first. They feel... untethered. Like they don't know who they are without the fear."

He's right. That's exactly how I feel.

Untethered. Lost.

"Does it get better?" I ask quietly.

"Yes. Eventually." He takes a sip of his whiskey. "It takes time. But one day you'll wake up and realize you slept through the night without nightmares. One day you'll walk into a room without checking all the exits first. One day you'll just... breathe."

"How long does it take?"

"That depends on the person. But you will get there, Lola. I promise."

The way he says my name makes something flutter in my chest. Soft. Careful. Like my name is something precious instead of something to spit out with contempt.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For... for everything. For marrying me. For this house. For letting me have space. For not..." I can't finish the sentence.

"For not being Ethan," Ocean finishes again. "You don't need to thank me for basic human decency."

"In this world? Yeah, I do. Basic human decency isn't exactly common."

He almost smiles. Almost.

We stand there in the quiet kitchen, drinking our respective beverages, and it's... nice? Is that the word? It's comfortable in a way I didn't expect.

"Can I ask you something?" I say before I can stop myself.

"Of course."

"Why did you really marry me? You could have found someone else. Anyone else. Why take on the complication of... of me?"

Ocean sets down his glass. Looks at me directly.

"Because when I walked into that kitchen and saw you on the floor, covered in blood and broken glass, I saw someone who needed saving. And I had the power to save you. That's all."

"That's all?"

"That's all," he confirms. "I'm not a good man, Lola. I've done terrible things. I'll probably do more terrible things. But I don't hurt innocent people. I don't let innocent people get hurt if I can stop it. You were innocent. You needed help. I helped. It's that simple."

It's not simple though. Nothing about this is simple.

But I appreciate that he's trying to make it simple. Trying to make me feel less like a burden.

"Well," I say. "Thank you anyway. For... for being complicated in a good way instead of a bad way."

This time he does smile. Just a small one. But it transforms his face.

"You're welcome."

We finish our drinks in comfortable silence. Eventually, Ocean rinses his glass and puts it away.

"Try to get some sleep," he says. "And Lola? If you can't sleep, if you need to come down here at three AM every night for the next year, that's fine. This is your home too."

Your home too.

The words settle into my chest, warm and unfamiliar.

"Goodnight, Ocean."

"Goodnight."

He leaves first. I stay in the kitchen for a few more minutes, finishing my tea, letting the conversation replay in my mind.

The way he looked at me. Not with pity. Not with desire. Just with... understanding. Kindness.

My heart did this little skip when he said I was safe. When he said this was my home.

I tell myself it's just gratitude. Relief that he's not like Ethan. That's all this is.

It has to be all this is.

Because anything else would be dangerous. Complicated. Impossible.

Ocean Moretti is my husband on paper. My protector. The man who saved my life.

That's all he can ever be.

I head back upstairs, climb into bed, and for the first time in two weeks, I fall asleep without fighting it.

And I don't have nightmares.