Scarlett’s POV
There was something about love after survival.
It wasn’t loud, not at first. It didn’t come in grand declarations or sweeping gestures. It came in the quiet. In shared glances over breakfast. In the brush of a thumb over the back of a hand. In the knowledge that we had almost lost everything… and chose not to.
Jasper and I were building something new. Not from scratch, but from the wreckage. From the ashes of past mistakes. And this time, every brick was laid with care.
On Tuesday morning, I found a small, white velvet box on my nightstand.
It wasn’t a ring.
It was a necklace, delicate, gold, with a single fire opal nestled at the center like a spark held in time. Beneath it was a note in his handwriting: You’re not just fire. You’re everything that survives it.
I had
