Chapter 162: The Weight of Nerves
The hum of the engine filled the quiet space of the car, steady and low, almost like a heartbeat. Julie’s hands, however, didn’t share that calm rhythm.
Her slender fingers gripped the folds of her gown, squeezing the fabric until her knuckles turned pale.
Roman noticed immediately. He always did. His sharp eyes softened as they dropped to her trembling hands.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with concern.
Julie hesitated, her lashes lowering like shutters against the world.
Her lips parted, carrying a question that betrayed her anxiety.
"Your relatives will be there... other than Azazel, right?" Her voice quivered with nerves that shone clearly in her eyes.
Roman gave a short nod, his gaze never leaving her.
"Yes." The word was simple, but the way he said it—low, reassuring, anchored—was enough to steady some of the storm inside her.
He opened his arms wide, a silent invitation. "Come."
Julie didn’t answer in words. Instead, she leaned toward him, inch by inch, as though crossing an invisible line.
Roman’s arms closed around her immediately, enveloping her in the warmth of his embrace.
She pressed her face against his chest.
It wasn’t rock-hard like carved stone—it was human, alive, steady, and that made it far more comforting.
His heart beat a strong rhythm beneath her ear, a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t alone.
Roman lifted one large hand, then slowly lowered it onto the crown of her head.
His fingers stroked gently through her hair, each pass meant to soothe, to console, to remind her of the promise he always kept: she was safe with him.
"You don’t have to worry," he murmured, his tone so steady it melted into the hum of the road.
"I’ll be right by your side. And secondly—Lisa, Denovan, and Azazel will be there to talk with you. You won’t be alone."
Julie nodded quickly, pressing tighter against him as if to absorb the strength he offered.
But inside her chest, unease still coiled, stubborn and unyielding.
"Roman..." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, fragile as a feather carried on wind. Yet he heard it—he always did. He hummed in response, low and attentive.
Her next words spilled out like a confession she had been holding too tightly. "I love you."
Still resting against his chest, she tightened her arms around him, clinging to him as though her words might not be enough to prove it.
Roman’s gaze flickered toward the car window.
For a moment, he stared at the passing blur of city lights, then he tilted his head slightly and glanced down at her.
A smile curved across his lips—rare, but warm, carrying the weight of his own unshaken devotion.
"I love you more," he said, voice deep and steady, before drawing her even closer against him.
The world outside blurred, but inside the car, there was only the hush of their breathing, the warmth of their closeness, and the quiet vow unspoken between them: whatever awaited, they would face it together.
The car rolled forward, smooth against the long stretch of road.
Their driver sat upright in the front, hands steady on the wheel, gaze fixed ahead.
He said nothing—only let the silence of the evening settle around them like a cocoon.
Inside the car, however, that silence wasn’t empty. It was full—full of the small, intimate sounds of two people wrapped in each other’s presence.
The whisper of Julie’s breathing against Roman’s chest. The faint rustle of fabric as her gown shifted under his hand.
The steady rhythm of Roman’s fingers stroking her hair, again and again, a wordless promise repeated through touch.
Julie closed her eyes. She could feel the vibration of Roman’s voice still lingering against her ear, those three words echoing in her mind like the most treasured melody: I love you more.
She envied her own heart for being held so securely by him.
A smile ghosted across her lips, small and fragile, but there.
Roman looked down at her, his expression unreadable to anyone else but her.
His eyes carried serenity, yes, but also something fierce beneath it—an iron promise that he would shield her from every storm.
"Comfortable?" he asked softly, his voice rumbling against her cheek.
Julie nodded, still refusing to move from his chest. "Mm-hmm. I don’t want to let go yet."
The corners of his mouth lifted. "Then don’t."
Time became liquid, stretching and slowing as though the world itself wanted to give them this moment.
The city lights passed in streaks of gold and silver outside, but inside the car, they lived in their own private glow.
Julie tilted her head slightly, letting her cheek rest fully against him.
Her eyes fluttered open just enough to steal a glance at his bow tie, perfectly knotted, golden against his black tuxedo. He looked regal, untouchable, like a man carved for power.
And yet here, with her, he bent—lowered his guard enough to become only Roman, the man who held her gently, the man who loved her.
The warmth of that thought wrapped around her like a second embrace.
The car drove on for what felt like forever and no time at all.
The minutes blurred into forty, the silence broken only by the occasional shift of fabric, the occasional hum Roman gave when she stirred slightly in his arms.
They didn’t need words. The silence was theirs, full of affection, of unspoken vows, of hearts beating in rhythm.
When the mansion lights finally appeared in the distance, it was almost a shame.
The Thompson main house stood like a crown against the night sky.
Lights spilled across its facade, glittering from every window and balcony. It wasn’t just a home—it was a declaration.
Marble columns rose tall, gardens framed the walkways, and trees whispered under the touch of the night breeze.
The mansion sparkled with life, proud and elegant, standing in the middle of its vast estate with the confidence of something unshakable.
The car slowed, rolling into its designated space.
Julie sat up reluctantly, her fingers loosening from Roman’s jacket, though not without one last squeeze.
Roman’s gaze swept over her, and his lips tilted into the faintest smile. "Are we ready?"
Julie took in a deep breath, her chest rising slowly. Her nerves prickled again, but she nodded. "Yes."
The driver stepped out, walking around the vehicle with swift precision.
Outside, the scene was alive. Paparazzi stood in a neat line beside the red carpet, cameras flashing in anticipation.
They waited like hunters for the moment Roman and Julie emerged, their lenses ready to devour every detail.
The red carpet stretched forward from where the car would stop, trailing elegantly to the entrance of the mansion.
At the grand doors, two guards stood tall, their black uniforms cut to perfection, their bodies taut with muscle and stamina—the kind of strength honed from years of training and loyalty.
Julie’s pulse quickened at the sight, but Roman reached over, his hand brushing against hers in reassurance.
"Stay close," he murmured, his voice a calm anchor against the storm of nerves building in her chest.
She gave him a small nod, her lips pressing together as if to hold in her anxiety.
But when her eyes lifted to his, the serenity there washed over her like a tide.
Roman turned his gaze forward again, his jaw set, his presence commanding even in the dim interior of the car.
The moment was coming—the moment where private tenderness would be traded for public scrutiny, where every eye would be fixed on them, searching, judging.
But Julie knew one thing. Whatever came, she would walk into that storm with Roman’s hand in hers.
And Roman knew another: the world could watch, could whisper, could pry—but none of it would matter. She was his, and that was all.
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Author’s Note 🖋️ – Lessons Between the Lines
Every story we write carries more than just characters and plots.
It carries whispers of truth—lessons that can live in a reader’s heart long after the pages close.
I want to share some of those lessons here, not as lectures, but as gentle reminders we often forget in the noise of life.
1. Love is not just butterflies—it is courage.
Falling in love is the easy part; staying in love requires bravery.
It means showing up even when you’re tired, choosing patience when your heart wants to flare in anger, and learning to listen not to reply but to understand.
A healthy relationship is less about fiery passion and more about two people choosing each other again and again, even on ordinary days.
2. Dreams are beautiful, but without work, they remain fantasies.
We all have moments like Victoria, dreaming of a gown, a night, a chance to be seen.
Dreams light the fire inside us, but if they never meet effort, they fade.
Life rewards persistence, not only imagination. If you want your dream to live, feed it daily with discipline, humility, and patience.
3. Ambition without compassion becomes poison.
Laila reminds us that ambition, when left unchecked, can swallow kindness. It’s important to dream big and fight for your place, but not at the cost of losing your humanity.
Power and wealth are temporary; how you treat others will echo much longer than your titles.
4. Fear is natural, but don’t let it silence you.
Julie’s nervousness before facing Roman’s family shows a universal truth—we all feel small sometimes.
But growth only comes when you step into the places that scare you. Fear should be an invitation to grow, not a wall that holds you back.
Remember: even the strongest people you admire once trembled before the things they now command.
5. Comparison is the thief of joy.
It is easy to look at others and believe they are more beautiful, more talented, more deserving.
But comparing your Chapter one to someone else’s Chapter twenty is unfair to your journey.
The only race you are running is with yourself. Protect your peace by celebrating your pace.