The morning sun was barely rising when Cassian found himself standing in front of Sienna's door.
His hands shook.
For the first time in his life, Cassian Everhart was afraid.
He lifted his hand and knocked—softly at first, then a little harder when the silence stretched.
Footsteps. Light ones. Careful ones.
Then the door swung open, and there she was.
Sienna.
Cassian's breath caught painfully in his chest.
Her hair was a mess, like she'd just gotten out of bed. She wore an oversized sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. She looked so heartbreakingly beautiful, so real, that Cassian nearly fell to his knees.
Neither of them spoke at first.
They just stared.
Cassian, with his heart in pieces at his feet.
Sienna, with something deep and fragile flickering in her gaze.
And somehow, in the silence, they both knew.
It was done.
The war. The noise. The nightmare Nicole had dragged into their lives.
It was finally over.
Cassian swallowed hard. "Hi," he said, his voice rough.
Sienna's mouth quivered, the beginning of a smile ghosting across her lips. "Hi."
It was stupid—ridiculously simple—but it made Cassian laugh, a broken, breathless sound that cracked the shell around his heart.
He took a slow step forward. She didn't move away.
Another step.
Still, she stayed.
"I—" He stopped, shook his head, tried again. "I love you, Sienna."
Her eyes filled instantly, tears sparkling like morning dew.
"I'm sorry," Cassian whispered, his voice wrecked. "For everything. For letting you hurt alone. For not fighting hard enough when it mattered most."
Sienna stepped into the doorway fully now, her hand rising—hesitant, trembling—until she brushed her fingertips lightly against his cheek.
"You fought," she said softly. "You fought, Cass."
His throat closed up. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it tightly against his face like he could memorize the feeling forever.
"I would spend every day fighting for you if you let me," he rasped.
Sienna's lips trembled.
"Then start now," she whispered.
Cassian didn't need to be told twice.
He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him like a drowning man clinging to the only thing keeping him afloat.
She let him.
God, she let him.
Sienna buried her face in his chest, her hands fisting in the back of his jacket, and they stood there in the doorway, clinging to each other as if the world could break them apart again at any second.
"I missed you," Cassian breathed against her hair. "So much."
"I missed you too," she whispered back, her voice thick with tears.
They stayed like that for long minutes, neither caring about the cold creeping into the open doorway, neither caring about anything except the fact that they were here, together.
Finally, Sienna pulled back just enough to look up at him.
"Come in," she said.
Cassian nodded, stepping inside, kicking the door closed behind him.
The apartment was still the same—a little messy, a little chaotic, filled with Sienna's scent and life.
It felt like coming home.
She led him to the couch without a word. They sat close—so close their knees brushed. Sienna tucked one leg underneath her, facing him fully.
Cassian turned too, needing to see her, needing to feel her real and solid in front of him.
"Tell me everything," Sienna said, her voice low.
Cassian didn't flinch.
He told her about the private investigator. About the evidence of Nicole's secret boyfriend. About sending the report to Nicole's parents.
He told her about Nicole's family's public meltdown, the restraining orders, the court granting the invasive DNA test.
He told her about the nights he spent sitting in his car outside her house, just watching her light flicker through the windows.
And he told her how every second without her felt like punishment he couldn't bear.
By the time he finished, there were tears running silently down Sienna's cheeks.
Cassian reached out, brushing them away with trembling fingers.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered again.
Sienna caught his hand before he could pull away.
"I know," she said simply.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Cassian believed maybe—just maybe—they had a chance to heal.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, voice breaking.
Sienna hesitated.
Then, slowly, she nodded. "I'm willing to try."
Relief flooded him so powerfully that he had to close his eyes for a second to steady himself.
"I'll never let you down again," he promised hoarsely.
Sienna gave a watery laugh. "Cassian, you're human. You'll screw up. I'll screw up. It's not about never failing."
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.
"It's about choosing to stay," she whispered.
Cassian tightened his arms around her, holding her like she was the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
"Then I choose you," he said fiercely. "Every damn time."
Sienna smiled through her tears.
And kissed him.
It was soft at first—trembling, hesitant—a question more than an answer.
Cassian answered it the only way he knew how, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her back like he could pour every apology, every longing, every broken piece of himself into that single touch.
They broke apart only when breathing became impossible, resting their foreheads together, grinning like idiots.
"Stay?" Sienna asked shyly.
Cassian laughed softly, brushing his thumb along her jaw.
"Always."
That night, they didn't talk about Nicole, or lawyers, or court orders.
They curled up on the couch under a shared blanket, Sienna's head tucked against Cassian's chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along her arm.
The TV played some mindless sitcom neither of them really watched.
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Cassian felt peace.
He tightened his hold on her slightly, just to reassure himself she was real, that this wasn't some fevered dream.
Sienna shifted in her sleep, nuzzling closer, murmuring his name.
Cassian closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her wrap around him, filling all the hollow spaces inside.
He had almost lost her.
He would never take her for granted again.
Never.
Because this—this girl sleeping in his arms, trusting him enough to let go—was everything.
And he would spend the rest of his life proving it.