Even after a month apart, Oliver didn’t hesitate—not for a second. The moment he saw you, pale and tired beneath the canopy of silk, the world he built, the power he carried, all of it faded into something smaller than the quiet fear in his chest.

His hand found your forehead, steady and warm, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

I’m here now.

And somehow, with just that, the room felt safer, the air gentler—like nothing could touch you as long as he stayed.