Chapter 93: A Fortress of Our Own
By the time we dragged the last of the pillows from her SUV into the living room, it looked like a department store had exploded in my house.
The living room was chaos. Pillows everywhere, blankets draped over chairs, Val buzzing around like she was about to host a royal coronation instead of build a pillow fort.
She had that look again—eyes lit up, smile a little too wide. The kind of look that always spelled trouble for me.
"Okay, the big pillows go here," she said, dragging a heavy one across the floor.
I reached out and grabbed it before she could wedge it against the side. "No, that’s gonna make it lean. You need the heavier ones at the bottom."
"Lean?" she repeated, like the word was offensive. "It’s not a skyscraper, Kai. It’s a fort."
"Forts still need structure." I slid the pillow into place against the others, testing the balance. It wasn’t great, but it was better.
Val crouched down next to me, studying it for all of two seconds before yanking the same pillow out again. "It looks ugly like that."
My brows shot up. "Ugly? It’s not supposed to be pretty. It’s supposed to stand."
Her head snapped toward me, hair swinging. "It’s supposed to be both!"
And that was how it started.
I bit down on a sigh and reached for another cushion. "Val, you can’t just—"
She snatched it from my hands. "I can. And I will. This is our fort. Not some... math problem."
My jaw tightened. "It’s not a math problem. It’s physics. Basic physics."
"Basic physics is boring," she snapped, plopping the pillow down exactly where it shouldn’t go.
I stared at it. Then at her. "That’s literally the worst spot you could’ve chosen."
> "Your face is the worst spot."
I blinked. "...What?"
She folded her arms, cheeks pink with frustration. "You’re ruining the vibe."
"The vibe?" I ran a hand down my face. "Val, it’s a pillow fort. There’s no vibe."
Her eyes flashed, sharp and hurt at the same time. "There is! There’s supposed to be. You just don’t get it."
Something in her tone made me pause, but only for a second. Because by then, my patience was slipping too.
"What’s there to get?" I asked, more clipped than I meant to. "We’re stacking cushions in the living room. It’s ridiculous."
Her mouth fell open, like I’d just punched her. "Ridiculous?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "You’re eighteen, not eight."
Her lips pressed tight, and for once, she didn’t fire back right away. She just turned back to the fort, stuffing another pillow into place with more force than necessary.
The silence was worse than the yelling.
"Val..." I tried again, softer this time.
She whipped around, eyes glassy but burning. "You don’t have to say yes to everything, you know. You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to do it."
I frowned. "I didn’t say I didn’t want to—"
"You’re acting like you don’t!" she shot back. "Like I’m wasting your time."
I stepped closer, hands tightening at my sides. "Because you keep tearing down everything I build! You want it perfect, but you don’t even know what perfect is!"
Her breath hitched.
The words hung there, too sharp, too heavy.
For a moment, I almost took them back. But then she squared her shoulders, chin lifting like she’d rather choke on the hurt than let me see it.
"Of course I dont," she whispered. "Perfect is something I’ve never had before. Not once."
I froze.
She turned away before I could answer, grabbing another pillow and shoving it into place. Wrong place, again. The whole wall sagged.
"Val—"
"Don’t." Her voice cracked. "If it’s so stupid, then don’t help. I’ll do it myself."
And just like that, we were back at war.
I reached over her shoulder, tugging the pillow out before the whole side collapsed. She spun on me instantly.
> "Stop!"
"It’s not going to stand if you keep doing it like that."
"I don’t care if it stands!" she snapped, voice sharp and shaky at the same time.
I froze, staring at her. For a second, neither of us moved.
Then I exhaled hard through my nose. "...Fine," I muttered, my jaw tight. "Do it your way."
I dropped the pillow I was holding, the thud louder than it should’ve been, and turned on my heel.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t call after me.
I walked down the hall, into my room, shutting the door behind me with more force than necessary.
The last thing I saw before it closed was her standing there in the middle of the mess—hands clenched, chin trembling, surrounded by half a fort that leaned awkwardly to one side.
---
I sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it had personally offended me. My jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it. Every few seconds, I could hear the faint thump of pillows being shifted around in the living room.
She was still at it.
Of course she was.
I dragged a hand down my face, muttering under my breath. "Unbelievable..."
It was a dumb fort. Just pillows. Why did it feel like we’d just had World War III over it? Why did she always have to push until my patience snapped? And why did it get under my skin so badly when it was supposed to be ridiculous?
I rubbed at my temple. She was probably still arranging them all wrong, refusing to listen.
Finally, curiosity got the better of me. I pushed myself up and padded out of the room, quiet so she wouldn’t notice. Just a peek, I told myself. If she’d given up, I’d know. If she hadn’t... well, I didn’t even know what I expected.
I leaned against the doorway.
She hadn’t given up.
Celestia was kneeling in the middle of the chaos, hair falling in her face as she dragged a pillow across the carpet, lips pursed in concentration. Her brows were drawn, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she adjusted one corner, then another, stepping back each time to look at it like a painter checking her strokes.
That’s when it clicked.
The diagonal. She wasn’t stacking them randomly—she was lining up the pillowcases so the colors formed a clean pattern across the "walls." White to orange to navy, then gray and back again. Smooth. Balanced. Like it mattered to her if it looked good, not just if it stood.
My chest tightened. Why didn’t she just... say that?
Then I saw her face properly. Her eyes looked puffy. Her nose was red. Every now and then she sniffed, quietly, as if she was trying not to let it be heard.
The guilt hit me hard. I stood there another moment, sighing through my teeth, before I finally walked forward.
No words. Just me picking up a pillow, holding it out to her.
She froze like I’d startled her. Her wide eyes flicked up to mine. For a second, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she reached out and took it. Still no words.
We worked like that. Quiet. Efficient. I’d hand her a pillow; she’d place it. She’d hand me one; I’d prop it against another. Not a sound between us, not even the occasional complaint she usually couldn’t resist throwing in.
And somehow, before I realized it, the fort was done.
We crawled inside, pushing the last pillow into place. The little tunnel of fabric and cushions closed around us. Snacks and drinks sat between us, a laptop open with something queued on the screen. But neither of us looked at any of it.
The silence pressed down heavy.
She broke it first.
"I’m sorry I got mad," she whispered, staring at her knees. "You’re right. I should’ve outgrown all of this already."
I let out a slow breath. "...I didn’t mean it like that."
Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide, shimmering. She blinked fast, like she was forcing the tears back.
I opened my mouth, ready to apologize again, but she shook her head quickly, cutting me off.
"No. Don’t. Just—listen, okay?"
I hesitated, then nodded.
She took a shaky breath. "It wasn’t about the fort. Not really. I mean—it was, but it wasn’t." Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt. "I know I’m a lot. I know I can be too much sometimes. And I didn’t want you to get mad. I just... I wanted this to be perfect. My way. Just once."
She stopped, pressed her lips together, then pushed on before I could say anything.
"I’ve never really been allowed to do that before. To make something mine. To... be myself without it being wrong or silly or not enough." She gave a weak laugh, shaking her head. "My parents—" her voice dipped, fragile, "—they’ve always said I don’t think things through. That I never have. That I’m careless. Even when I tried, it was never... enough. Everything I did was just another mistake waiting to happen."
Her fingers twisted harder in her shirt.
"And yeah, I know it’s ridiculous. A pillow fort. Who cares? But it wasn’t about that. It was about... making something stable, something that wouldn’t fall apart. Proving—maybe just to myself—that I could. But in my own style. And I wanted to do it with you."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
"I overreacted. I know I did. It’s my fault."
I shifted closer before she could spiral any further. "Val—"
She shook her head again, eyes fixed on the floor. "It is. Don’t try to make me feel better. I ruined it."
I exhaled, the frustration in me bleeding out, leaving only the ache of seeing her fold in on herself like that. Slowly, I reached out, tugging her into me.
She stiffened for half a second, then melted, burying her face in my chest. My arms closed around her, holding tight, steady.
Her breath hitched against me, and in that moment it struck me—how little I really knew about the weight she carried. How many cuts and bruises were invisible, tucked away behind that sharp tongue and those stubborn eyes. She never showed them, never let anyone close enough to see. But they were there. Always there. And right now, I could feel them pressing against me through her silence.
We stayed like that, breathing the same air, the soft fabric of the fort dimming everything outside it.
After a while, she whispered, muffled against me, "You’re my fort, you know."
I blinked, tilting my head down. "What?"
She pulled back just a little, just enough for me to see her eyes. Her voice was small, almost embarrassed. "You... make things feel solid. Like nothing can get through when I’m with you. That’s what a fort’s supposed to do, right? Protect you."
Her lips wobbled into a watery smile, the kind that tried to be brave but couldn’t quite hide the pout beneath it.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, resting my chin on top of her head.
Silence stretched, warm and fragile, until she tilted her head up, lashes still damp, and whispered, "So... do you still want me to?"
I blinked. "Want you to do what?"
Her mouth curved into the faintest, most mischievous grin. "You know. The thing I promised this morning."
I barked a laugh, startled and helpless at the whiplash only she could pull off. "Val..."
She nudged me with her forehead, mock-offended. "What? You looked like you needed cheering up. And besides, a wife always keeps her promises."
I shook my head, laughing despite myself, all the tension unraveling from my chest. Only she could go from near tears to teasing me like this without missing a beat.
And as her laughter softened into quiet humming, I thought to myself—
There was nothing ridiculous about this at all.
Because it wasn’t just pillows stacked together. It wasn’t just blankets draped across chairs.
It was hers.
It was mine.
It was ours.
A fortress of our own.
---
To be continued...