Later that evening, Christian stood at the kitchen island, cooking.
(Yes, cooking. Scrambled eggs, his only safe zone.)
Ana sat on the counter, legs swinging, wearing one of his white shirts.
They hadn't said much all day.
Because peace doesn't need permission.
But when she finally spoke—
It changed everything.
"I want to set a rule," she said casually, stirring her tea.
Christian looked up, slightly cautious. "Okay…"
"No more using silence as punishment," she said. "From either of us."
He blinked.
Ana clarified, "You don't get to walk away mid-conversation and disappear into your penthouse. And I don't get to shut down and freeze you out."
He nodded slowly.
She wasn't done.
"If we need space, we say it. If we're hurt, we name it. But no more disappearing acts. Emotional or physical."
Christian placed the spatula down.
Walked over.
And for once—
He didn't say anything to argue.
He didn't try to twist it into a business compromise.
He didn't flinch.
He simply said,
"Agreed."
✨ A Different Kind of Power
She stepped down from the counter, standing eye-to-eye.
"I mean it, Christian. If I ever feel like I'm chasing you again… I'll stop walking. For good."
He swallowed hard. "I don't want to be someone you have to chase."
"Then don't be."
And in that moment…
Christian Blake didn't see Ana Rae as the girl he married for revenge.
Or the wife he seduced into chaos.
He saw her as a woman who had grown stronger than his patterns.
And she wasn't asking to lead.
She was just refusing to follow anyone who walked away again.
They stood in the kitchen.
Silent, but this time it was sacred.
Then she whispered, half-smiling:
"Now go stir those eggs before you burn them."
He chuckled, kissed her temple, and went back to the pan.
This time, the power wasn't in control.
It was in clarity.
📓 Ana's Journal Entry #10
I didn't raise my voice.
I didn't cry.
I didn't leave.
I just… told him the truth.
No silence. No drama. No fear that I'd be "too much."
I told him what I needed:
Clarity.
Consistency.
Presence.
Not constant apologies.
Not grand gestures.
Just a man who chooses to stay in the room—especially when the conversation gets hard.
And the wildest thing is… he didn't argue.
He didn't flinch.
He just said,
"Agreed."
And that's when I knew:
He wasn't just listening to me.
He was learning me.
There's a different kind of power in being heard without resistance.
Not the loud kind.
Not the CEO kind.
Just… the kind that comes from finally honoring your own voice—
before anyone else's.
For years, I thought control was love.
But it turns out—
The safest thing in the world is someone who knows where the line is… and chooses not to cross it.
She closed the journal.
No heavy sigh.
No hesitation.
Just a smile.
Because today wasn't about falling deeper in love.
It was about standing taller in her own skin.
To be continued…