One Night in Valeria - Chapter 16: Chapter 16
You are reading One Night in Valeria, Chapter 16: Chapter 16. Read more chapters of One Night in Valeria.
Jessica paused in the doorway of her studio, inhaling the warm scent of lavender-scented candles and fabric dust almost like comfort, even though nothing felt comfortable anymore. She soft-switched the lamp to a dim glow, its light pooling across the unfinished pieces on her table. Tonight, she wasn’t here to design. She was here to remember.
A notebook lay open beside half-draped silk her mother’s handwriting looping over each page like a whisper. “Bloom louder.” But louder meant exposure, and exposure meant danger.
Yet, underneath the danger, there pulsed a fragile hope.
She reached for the teacup Mira had left behind earlier. Chamomile. Her mother’s favorite. She sipped slowly, closing her eyes.
A knock soft, hesitant pulled her back.
She turned to see Liam Velar standing in the doorway. No suit tonight. Just a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, his eyes quieter than she’d ever seen.
Everything about him at that moment was restraint. Intention. Something far more dangerous than the red dress.
“May I come in?” he asked, voice low enough to be soft but edged with desperation.
Jessica nodded, stepping aside.
He walked in, stopping a foot from her desk, body language unsure as if every inch of space between them needed caution.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked, looking at the scattered sketches.
She stared at the teacup and shook her head. “No. Not about this.”
“About anything?”
She studied his face—the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes.
“Do you ever feel like you’re in the wrong place… wearing someone else’s name?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Every morning.”
She turned toward him. “What do you do with that?”
He inhaled deeply as if steadying himself. “I get up. I show up. I stay here.”
A slow burn kindled in her chest not for love yet, but something more intense: understanding.
She found herself stepping closer to him, despite every reason to keep away. She noticed the soft way his arms moved, the careful space he left, the storm behind his gaze.
Their eyes met, and a hush settled. Neither spoke.
And yet, in that silence… everything was saying something.
He was about to lean in softly, almost regretfully when her phone buzzed on the table. Both jolted.
Jessica picked it up, seeing: **"Reminder: Treasurer’s meeting tomorrow."**
“Work,” she muttered, tucking it away. “I… I should go.”
He nodded slowly, shifting back.
“Jessica,” he began, voice a hushed plea. “If you need”
But she cut him off, gripping the table. “Not yet.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he exhaled relief mingling with something like lost longing and stepped back toward the door.
Before he left, he paused.
“Goodnight,” he said. His tone was softer than hers. Warmer. More real.
She answered him before she’d meant to. “Night.”
The door closed.
She exhaled.
And all that was left was the soft pulsing of a million things unsaid an ache that would carry her through the night.
A notebook lay open beside half-draped silk her mother’s handwriting looping over each page like a whisper. “Bloom louder.” But louder meant exposure, and exposure meant danger.
Yet, underneath the danger, there pulsed a fragile hope.
She reached for the teacup Mira had left behind earlier. Chamomile. Her mother’s favorite. She sipped slowly, closing her eyes.
A knock soft, hesitant pulled her back.
She turned to see Liam Velar standing in the doorway. No suit tonight. Just a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, his eyes quieter than she’d ever seen.
Everything about him at that moment was restraint. Intention. Something far more dangerous than the red dress.
“May I come in?” he asked, voice low enough to be soft but edged with desperation.
Jessica nodded, stepping aside.
He walked in, stopping a foot from her desk, body language unsure as if every inch of space between them needed caution.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked, looking at the scattered sketches.
She stared at the teacup and shook her head. “No. Not about this.”
“About anything?”
She studied his face—the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes.
“Do you ever feel like you’re in the wrong place… wearing someone else’s name?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Every morning.”
She turned toward him. “What do you do with that?”
He inhaled deeply as if steadying himself. “I get up. I show up. I stay here.”
A slow burn kindled in her chest not for love yet, but something more intense: understanding.
She found herself stepping closer to him, despite every reason to keep away. She noticed the soft way his arms moved, the careful space he left, the storm behind his gaze.
Their eyes met, and a hush settled. Neither spoke.
And yet, in that silence… everything was saying something.
He was about to lean in softly, almost regretfully when her phone buzzed on the table. Both jolted.
Jessica picked it up, seeing: **"Reminder: Treasurer’s meeting tomorrow."**
“Work,” she muttered, tucking it away. “I… I should go.”
He nodded slowly, shifting back.
“Jessica,” he began, voice a hushed plea. “If you need”
But she cut him off, gripping the table. “Not yet.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he exhaled relief mingling with something like lost longing and stepped back toward the door.
Before he left, he paused.
“Goodnight,” he said. His tone was softer than hers. Warmer. More real.
She answered him before she’d meant to. “Night.”
The door closed.
She exhaled.
And all that was left was the soft pulsing of a million things unsaid an ache that would carry her through the night.
End of One Night in Valeria Chapter 16. Continue reading Chapter 17 or return to One Night in Valeria book page.