Chapter 46 – “The First Time She Cried in Front of Him”

These two chapters are the compensation for the previous skipped update , hope you like this volume and please add this book to your library , if you truly like the story and also do try and leave a comment on every chapter you read even a simple "Hi" will do . 😎😎😎😎

Thanks, 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't a dramatic moment.

There were no headlines. No pitch to win. No betrayal to rage against.

Just a quiet afternoon. A half-watched documentary. The sound of distant rain against glass.

Will had fallen asleep beside her on the couch, arm wrapped loosely around her hips, breath steady against the curve of her back.

Eliza sat still, remote in hand.

The episode had drifted into something about childhood displacement—orphans moved from home to home, documents lost, names misspelled, forgotten. There was a boy on screen, maybe ten. Quiet. Alone. Holding a folder of someone else's story.

And suddenly, her lungs didn't work right.

She tried to blink it away. Swallow. Breathe. But something old and sharp bloomed in her chest—deep and shivering and unexpected.

And then… she cried.

No noise. Just tears.

Big, slow, traitorous.

Will stirred beside her when the couch shifted.

His eyes opened slowly. Saw her face. Sat up.

"Eliza?"

She didn't wipe them away. Didn't make a joke. Didn't pretend.

She just turned her head, and in a voice smaller than he'd ever heard from her, whispered:

"I don't know why it hit me. I thought I'd processed it."

He moved without hesitation. Wrapped his arms around her. Pulled her in.

"You don't owe me a reason," he said softly.

She closed her eyes and leaned into him—truly into him—her forehead pressed to his collarbone, her fingers curling into the front of his hoodie.

"Sometimes," she said, voice raw, "I think I turned myself into a fortress because I was afraid no one would stay if they saw the ruins underneath."

He held her tighter.

"You're not ruins," he said.

She laughed—wet, broken.

"Then what am I?"

He brushed his lips against her hair.

"Foundation. You survived. You built something. And now… now we're building the rest. Together."

She didn't respond right away.

But her breathing slowed.

Her hands relaxed.

And for the first time in her adult life—Eliza Darcy cried in front of someone and didn't apologize for it.

Didn't shrink.

Didn't shatter.

She simply let it happen.

And Will?

He stayed.

Later that night, after she had fallen asleep against him, her hand still curled in his shirt, he whispered into the dark:

"You don't ever have to be the strong one alone."