The rain whispered against the windows, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was catching its breath. The room glowed in warm candlelight, flickering shadows across the walls. Yelena stood near the window in silence, her tall frame wrapped in a simple white nightgown, her hair let down for once—golden and free.

When he stepped inside, she turned. No coldness, no distant stare. Just Yelena, looking at him like he was the only thing left that made sense in a world that never did.

“You look…” he murmured, almost breathless, “breathtaking.”

A quiet smile touched her lips. “And you look like the man I chose. The only man I ever trusted with my heart.”

She crossed the room, slow and steady, her eyes never leaving his. Her fingers found his chest, resting over his heartbeat.

“Can you believe it?” she said softly. “Me. Married. To you.”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Honestly? I’m more nervous now than during the ceremony.”

Yelena laughed—really laughed, low and soft. “That’s because out there, I was pretending. In here? I’m just me. And that’s far more terrifying.”

She took his hand, pressed it over her heart. “This never beat for anyone but a cause. Until you. You made me feel again. You made me want again.”

He held her close, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was full—of love, of promises, of every moment that led them here.

“So tonight,” she whispered, “I’m not a weapon. I’m not a zealot. I’m just yours. If you’ll have me.”