Chapter 87
1602 Words
✨ Between Us and the World✨
Ari Darven
Ari stood by the window, loosening the cuff of his shirt, the city stretching out below him in quiet motion.
He felt her before he heard her.
Elena moved behind him, slower than usual, like she was thinking too much.
That alone told him something was coming.
“You ever think about…” she started, then stopped.
Ari glanced at her over his shoulder. “That’s never a good start.”
She huffed a small breath, crossing her arms lightly. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” he said, turning to face her fully. “Say it.”
She hesitated.
That wasn’t like her.
Elena was careful, yes—but not unsure.
“Us,” she said finally. “Do you ever think about… people knowing?”
Ari stilled.
Not visibly. Not in a way most people would catch.
But inside? Yeah.
He studied her face, the way her eyes didn’t quite hold his, the way her fingers fidgeted slightly against her arm.
“This coming from somewhere,” he said.
She nodded faintly. “It was just a thought. Not… a plan or anything.”
Ari pushed off the window, walking toward her slowly. “You don’t just ‘think’ things like that for no reason.”
She gave him a small look. “Can I not just be curious?”
“You can,” he said calmly. “But you’re not just curious.”
That made her sigh, dropping her arms.
“It’s complicated,” she admitted. “Your world… my work… the people I deal with—Ari, if this becomes something public, it’s not just about us anymore.”
There it was.
Ari’s jaw tightened slightly, but not in anger—just focus.
“Talk to me,” he said, softer now.
Elena looked at him properly this time. “I’ve worked too hard to be taken seriously. I don’t want people looking at me like I’m just…” she trailed off, searching.
“With me?” he finished.
She didn’t answer right away.
That was answer enough.
Ari exhaled slowly, stepping closer until there was barely space between them.
“You think I’d let that happen?” he asked quietly.
“It’s not about letting it happen,” she said, just as soft. “It just… does. People talk. They assume. They reduce things.”
Ari tilted his head slightly, watching her.
“You’re worried about losing your ground,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted. “And you should be too.”
A small pause.
Then—“Your father alone—”
Ari let out a low breath, cutting in gently. “My father is always going to have something to say.”
“That’s not reassuring,” she said, a faint smile slipping through.
“It’s honest.”
That earned him a look—one that softened just a little.
Ari’s hand came up, resting lightly at her waist, grounding more than pulling.
“Listen,” he said, voice steady. “I don’t need the world in our business. Not right now.”
Her shoulders eased—just slightly.
“But,” he added, holding her gaze, “I’m not hiding you either.”
That made her pause.
There was something in the way he said it—firm, certain.
“Those are two different things,” she said.
“I know,” he replied.
Ari’s thumb brushed lightly against her side, absent but intentional.
“We move how we want,” he continued. “Not because someone’s watching. Not because they’re not.”
Elena searched his face, like she was trying to decide if she believed him.
“And if it affects things?” she asked quietly. “Your work. Mine.”
Ari didn’t hesitate.
“Then we deal with it,” he said simply.
She blinked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
There was no arrogance in it.
Just certainty.
Elena let out a slow breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
“It was just an idea,” she said again, softer now.
Ari nodded. “I know.”
His hand slid slightly, pulling her just a fraction closer.
“But don’t bring me ideas like that and expect me not to think about them,” he added.
That earned him a small smile.
“Of course you would.”
Ari smirked faintly. “Yes. I would.”
A quiet moment settled between them.
Not heavy.
Just real.
Elena rested her hand lightly against his chest, grounding herself the same way he had done for her.
“We don’t have to decide anything now,” she said.
Ari nodded. “We won’t.”
His gaze softened just slightly.
“But when we do…” he added, “it’ll be on our terms.”
She held his eyes for a second longer.
Then she nodded.
And just like that—the idea wasn’t scary anymore.
Not because the world got smaller.
But because they felt… steadier in it together.
Beneath her polished surface, something had shifted permanently.
She wasn’t calculating risks anymore.
She was balancing worlds.
And somehow — impossibly — she felt strong enough to hold both.
---
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Night had settled around them and they had just settled into bed.
Ari lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped loosely around Elena where she rested against him. Her fingers traced slow, absent patterns along his chest, like she wasn’t even thinking about it.
But he felt every touch.
Every single one.
He stared at the ceiling for a while, listening—to her breathing, to the quiet hum of the night outside, to the steady rhythm that had settled between them.
It was… unfamiliar.
Not uncomfortable.
Just new.
“You’re thinking,” she murmured softly, her voice low against his skin.
Ari huffed a quiet breath. “That obvious?”
“A little,” she said, shifting slightly so she could look up at him.
He glanced down at her, his fingers instinctively brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Just… a lot going on.”
She studied him for a moment, like she was trying to read something he hadn’t said out loud.
“Work?” she asked.
Ari hesitated.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “And… other things.”
Her hand stilled on his chest. “Your father?”
Ari’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t pull away.
“Always,” he muttered.
There was a pause.
Not awkward—just quiet.
Elena shifted closer, resting her chin lightly against him. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, you know.”
Ari let out a low breath, something almost like a laugh but without humor. “That’s kind of how I’ve always done it.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it that way.”
He looked at her again, really looked this time.
There was no pressure in her expression. No expectation.
Just… presence.
That did something to him.
His hand slid up her arm, slower now, more deliberate. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” she said softly. “But it’s better.”
Ari went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t heavy.
His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, back and forth, like he was grounding himself.
After a moment, he spoke again, quieter than before.
“I wasn’t lying earlier,” he said.
“About what?”
He hesitated, then let it out anyway.
“I don’t lose control like that.”
Her eyes softened slightly.
“And that bothers you?” she asked gently.
Ari exhaled, staring at the ceiling again. “It should.”
A pause.
“But it doesn’t?” she pressed.
He looked back at her, something unguarded slipping through.
“No,” he admitted. “Not with you.”
The words hung there.
Simple.
Heavy.
Real.
Elena didn’t say anything right away. She just shifted closer, her leg brushing against his, her hand settling back over his heart.
Ari tightened his arm around her without thinking.
“You’re dangerous,” he added quietly, a faint smirk touching his lips.
That earned him a soft laugh. “Me?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Got me out here taking days off, ignoring calls… losing control…”
Her fingers pressed lightly against his chest. “You didn’t ignore your call.”
“I wanted to,” he said honestly.
She smiled a little at that.
The room fell quiet again, but this time it was warmer. Easier.
Ari tilted his head slightly, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.
She melted into him.
And for once… he didn’t feel the need to pull back.
Didn’t feel the need to think five steps ahead.
Didn’t feel like he had to be anything other than exactly who he was in that moment.
With her.
His hand traced slow circles along her back, absent, steady.
“You staying tonight?” he asked, voice low, almost casual—but not quite.
She looked up at him, a small smile forming. “You want me to?”
Ari didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Soft.
Certain.
Her answer came without words—just the way she settled deeper into him, like she already belonged there.
Ari closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.
The world outside could wait.
For now… this was enough.
- Writer
