Chapter 110: Where She Belongs

Chapter 110: Where She Belongs

Val had gone back to her usual self after making me hold her hostage in my own bed. Thirty minutes. Not kidding. Thirty full minutes of her curled up against me, arms looped around my middle, refusing to let me move until she declared she’d gotten "sufficient emotional support." Her words, not mine.

I told her it was blackmail. She told me I was dramatic.

Either way, she won.

We’d fallen asleep in my room after that. Not together together—nothing happened—but in the same bed, sharing the same blanket, the same quiet space. Honestly, that was more dangerous than anything else. Because even with nothing happening, my heart wouldn’t shut up. It was the kind of night where every brush of her hand, every shift of her breath, every unconscious murmur burrowed under my skin and refused to leave.

Now it was Saturday. The weekend. And I couldn’t believe I’d made it through an entire week without seeing Duchess waltz into my apartment like she owned the place. Smug little cat. Tail high, ears twitching, strut so deliberate you’d think she was about to charge me rent. All cats are like that, sure—but Duchess had a superiority complex.

Not that I missed her. Not really. I had Val, and she was more than enough—loud, demanding, and far more entertaining than any smug cat could ever be.

Val woke before I did, like always. And also like always, she decided it was her life’s mission to drag me into consciousness. If I were the one awake first, I’d probably just watch her, take in the softness of her face without disturbing her. But Val? She couldn’t just stare. No—she needed her hands on me, fingers poking my cheek, lips brushing my jaw, nails tracing lazy shapes until I had no choice but to stir.

This time, it was her voice, soft and unreasonably close to my ear, that did it.

> "Morning, husband."

Her tone was low, sweet, smug—like she was already amused by some inside joke I wasn’t privy to yet.

I blinked myself awake, groaning against the pillow. "Morning."

She tilted her head, studying me like she’d just discovered a new mystery to solve. Then her eyes flickered with realization, and she nodded once, decisive.

> "So it really was a one-time thing, huh?"

I squinted at her. "What was?"

> "Babe."

I froze. "...What?"

"You called me ’babe.’" Her lips curved into a pout that was way too practiced to be real. "Once. Maybe twice. A glorious twenty-four hours of nickname bliss. And now? Cold turkey. Like it never happened."

I let out a groan, dragging the blanket over my head. "You’re impossible."

"Impossible? Me?" She tugged the blanket right back down, eyes dancing with fake indignation. "I’m the victim here. Do you know how cruel it is to give a girl a taste of something sweet and then snatch it away?"

"You make it sound like I abandoned you in the desert."

"You did!" she shot back dramatically. "A barren wasteland of boring old ’Val.’"

"Val is literally your name."

She gasped, hand over her chest. "Wow. Zero romance. My poor, neglected heart."

I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous she was being. "You’re not serious."

"Dead serious." She leaned closer, voice dropping to a stage whisper. "If you don’t bring back ’babe,’ I might wither away."

I shook my head, sitting up against the headboard. "You don’t even like clichés."

"That’s the point!" she insisted, eyes wide like she was unveiling some grand logic. "If I like it from you, that means it’s special. That means I’m special."

Her grin was smug enough to make me roll my eyes.

"You’re exhausting," I muttered.

"Exhaustingly lovable," she corrected, winking.

I sighed, finally relenting just a little. "Fine. Sorry I didn’t call you... babe."

"I’ll forgive you," she said, stretching her arms over her head, her voice turning drowsy again. "For now. But don’t think I won’t bring it up again later."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

"Good." She hopped off the bed suddenly, tugging at her shirt. "I’m going to grab some water. Don’t miss me too much."

"Tragic loss," I deadpanned.

She blew me a kiss on her way out, and I shook my head, sinking deeper into the pillows.

The room fell quiet in her absence. For the first time since waking up, I let myself relax—until her phone chimed on the nightstand.

I didn’t mean to look.

I really didn’t.

But the screen lit up, and the name glared at me in bold letters:

Bradley Sinclair

Hey love 💕

My stomach twisted.

Of course it was him.

The golden boy. The one her parents had wanted for her. The one with the smug grin and the tailored suit and the confidence of someone who thought the world belonged to him.

I could still remember the party—six months ago, maybe more—when we shook hands. He’d made a show of it, glancing at Val every chance he got, gaze lingering on her like she was a prize to be won. And then—God—the wink. Right at me, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Now here he was again, on her screen, sliding in with love and a heart emoji like he had the right.

Heat crawled up the back of my neck. Anger. Jealousy. Something bitter I didn’t want to name.

Val had told me she didn’t like him. Told me she’d made it clear she was only mine. And I believed her. I did. But that didn’t stop the sick churn in my gut, the way the sight of his name made me feel like I was standing on unsteady ground.

Because what if?

What if her parents pushed harder? What if Bradley didn’t back off? What if Val got tired of dealing with my ordinary self when she had someone like him chasing after her?

I dragged a hand down my face, forcing a slow breath. She wasn’t here to explain. She hadn’t seen me see it. And I had no right to go through her phone.

But none of that stopped the ugly, burning thought settling in my chest:

Bradley Sinclair was still in the picture.

And I hated that more than anything.

---

She walked back in a few minutes later, balancing a plate of crackers and cheese in one hand and two chilled bottles of water in the other. Something light, something lazy—exactly the kind of snack you share with your "husband" when you can’t be bothered to leave the bed.

She plopped down beside me, casual as ever, crossing her legs and leaning into the pillows like nothing in the world was wrong. Like she wasn’t hiding anything. Like she wasn’t getting texts from—

I shoved the thought down.

She picked up a cracker, added a slice of cheese, and without warning pressed it to my lips.

I took it, because refusing would’ve been weird, but when my eyes flicked to hers in that second, something inside me stuttered. I didn’t even mean to glare—but whatever I gave her wasn’t my usual look.

Her smile faltered just a little, and she chewed before asking softly, "Something wrong?"

I paused. Long enough to decide whether to say it or bury it. Long enough that she concluded something was wrong.

The plate shifted in her hands as she set it aside on the nightstand. Then she folded her arms, giving me that no-nonsense tilt of her chin. "Spill."

"It’s nothing."

Her brows arched. "Nah-uh. Don’t give me that. Something’s definitely bothering you."

I sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

She tilted her head. "Is it about Lucien? I told you, I’m fine now. Promise."

I shook my head. "...You received a text."

Her face went blank for a beat before she blinked, grabbed her phone, and checked the screen. A second later, she let out a quiet "Oh." Then, to my surprise, her lips curved into a grin. "Wait. You’re jealous."

"It’s not funny."

She giggled anyway, the sound light and teasing—until she saw my expression. The smile faded. Her gaze softened. "Kai... do you really think I’d have the nerve to cheat on you?"

I stayed quiet.

She didn’t press, just unlocked her phone and slid it into my hand. "Here."

I stared at it. "...What?"

> "You can go through the chat."

"I—I don’t have the right. It’s not..."

"Of course you do." She leaned in, her voice calm, almost stubborn. "You’re my husband."

That word. It caught me off guard every time she said it so easily, like it wasn’t a game anymore, like it was already true.

She leaned back with a mischievous tilt of her head. "Well, since you don’t wanna—"

"Give it," I muttered, snatching the phone from her hand before she could pull it away.

She laughed under her breath, then nestled closer, resting her head against my shoulder as I scrolled.

The chat opened.

Bradley Sinclair: Morning, love 💕

Bradley Sinclair: Thought of you today

Bradley Sinclair: You’d look perfect in the dress I saw yesterday

Bradley Sinclair: Why don’t you pick up?

Bradley Sinclair: Dinner tonight? My treat. You won’t regret it.

Bradley Sinclair: Celestia, answer me.

Bradley Sinclair: You can’t ignore me forever.

Bradley Sinclair: I’m serious.

Her side was empty. Weeks of his texts stacked like a wall, met with nothing.

Except for the few times she did reply:

Bradley Sinclair: Lunch? My driver can pick you up.

Celestia Valentina Moreau:

Bradley Sinclair: You’d look stunning in the gown I bought. Want me to send it over?

Celestia Valentina Moreau: Burn it. Or better, wear it yourself.

Bradley Sinclair: Your attitude only makes you more irresistible.

Celestia Valentina Moreau: Your persistence makes you pathetic.

Bradley Sinclair: One dinner. Just one. I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Celestia Valentina Moreau: Wait forever. Choke while you’re at it.

That was it.

I stared at the screen a while longer before locking the phone and placing it face down on the bed.

"Feel better?" she asked quietly.

I turned to look at her. She wasn’t teasing this time. She wasn’t smirking. Just watching me with eyes that were steady, certain.

I let out a slow breath. "...Yeah."

> "Good."

"...Why don’t you just block him?" I asked.

"Already did," she said simply. "Four times."

I blinked. "...Four?"

She nodded, biting into another cracker like it was nothing. "He just keeps finding new numbers. Honestly, it’s pathetic."

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stared at her.

Then she made a face, dragging out her words in a soft whine. "I’m hungry. Let’s stop talking about irrelevant people."

Before I could reply, she grabbed the plate again, picked up a cracker, and without hesitation pressed it to my lips.

I gave in, opening my mouth and taking it, watching her chew her own like she hadn’t just handed me her phone without blinking, like she hadn’t just disarmed every ounce of doubt I’d been choking on.

And somehow, just like that, the weight in my chest eased.

She laughed quietly when she caught me smiling, crumbs in her fingers, hair falling around her shoulders like a curtain.

Maybe Bradley Sinclair still thought he had a chance. Maybe the world would always try to wedge itself between us.

But it wouldn’t matter.

Because Val was here. Next to me. As if she’d never be anywhere else.

And that, that right there is what home feels like.

---

To be continued...