Chapter 3 Baby Steps

Asher's POV

I knew what I had done was unforgivable.

That night, I had only gone to the motel to clear my head, to escape the endless pressure from my father and stepmother. They had been pushing me to get married, to find a wife and settle down, but I wasn't ready for that kind of life.

I drank too much. Too much to think straight. Too much to remember anything.

The next morning, I woke up naked in a strange bed, my head pounding from the alcohol. I was confused, disoriented-until I saw the blood on the bedsheet. That was when it hit me.

Something terrible had happened.

Guilt churned in my stomach as I rushed downstairs to the motel manager, demanding to see the CCTV footage. I had to know the truth, even if I already feared what I'd find.

And there it was. The undeniable proof.

I had forced myself on a girl I didn't even know.

The realization made me sick. I had never done anything like that before. Even drunk, I had never crossed that line. But that night, I did.

I told the manager to delete the footage. He did it without question, but even after it was gone, I found no peace. I couldn't erase what I had done, couldn't undo the damage I had caused.

For weeks, my guilt consumed me. I couldn't sleep, couldn't focus on anything. And then, an idea formed in my mind.

I would take responsibility.

I arranged for Mirabel to become my wife-not out of love, not because I wanted marriage, but because I had to make things right. My father wanted me to settle down, and she... she had nothing. I had my assistant run a background check on her, and what I found only made my guilt heavier.

She had suffered all her life. A stepmother who treated her like a servant. A father who didn't care. A life of pain and struggle.

I thought that maybe, by marrying her, I could help her. I could protect her. Give her a better life.

But now, looking at her sitting across from me, her hand bleeding because of me, I wasn't so sure anymore. Had I only made things worse?

I took her hand carefully, cleaning the wound. My voice was quiet when I spoke. "I'm sorry, Mirabel."

She looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to read my soul.

"Asher," she finally said.

"Yes?"

"Promise me... you won't hurt me again."

Something about the way she said it, the way her voice wavered, made my chest tighten.

"I won't hurt you, Mirabel," I said, meaning every word. "And I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

She lowered her gaze, thinking. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed. "I'll think about whether I should forgive you or not."

It wasn't much, but it was something. A small crack in the wall she had built around herself.

I still had hope.

I stood up, expecting her to do the same and leave. But instead, she surprised me.

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around my waist, holding me tightly.

I froze. This... I didn't expect this.

Her small frame trembled against me, and before I could stop myself, my arms moved on their own, pulling her closer.

Why did this feel... different?

I had never felt like this with anyone before. Not even with Mabel, my girlfriend. But right now, as I held Mirabel in my arms, something shifted inside me-something I couldn't explain.

I felt her legs shaking, her body growing weak.

Without thinking, I scooped her up in a bridal style.

She gasped, looking at me in shock. But after a moment, her expression softened, and she shyly wrapped her arms around my neck.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel so lost.

Holding her in my arms felt strangely natural, yet completely unfamiliar at the same time. Mirabel, the girl who had hated me just moments ago, was now leaning against me, her small hands gripping my shirt as if she was afraid to let go.

I walked toward the bed, carefully placing her down. She looked up at me with wide eyes, uncertainty flickering in them.

"You should rest," I said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She flinched slightly at my touch, and a pang of guilt shot through me. I pulled my hand back, sighing. "I know you don't trust me, and I don't expect you to. But I meant what I said. I won't hurt you, Mirabel."

She swallowed hard, sitting up on the bed. "Then let me go," she whispered.

My jaw tightened. "I can't do that."

Her hands curled into fists on her lap. "Why? Because of the contract?"

"Because I need to protect you," I admitted.

"Protect me?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "From who? You?!"

Her words stung, but I didn't blame her. "From people who want to hurt you more than I ever have," I said honestly.

She looked at me, confusion mixed with frustration. "What do you mean?"

I hesitated for a moment. Telling her the truth now wouldn't change anything. She wouldn't believe me. But one day, she'd understand why I did this.

"You don't need to know right now," I said instead. "Just trust me on this."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Trust you? That's funny, Asher."

I sighed, stepping back. "You should sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.

"Asher..."

I turned around, waiting.

She hesitated, biting her lip before finally whispering, "Thank you... for treating my hand."

My heart clenched at how broken she sounded.

"You don't have to thank me," I said softly. "Goodnight, Mirabel."

Without another word, I left the room, closing the door behind me.

But even as I walked away, her presence lingered in my mind, more than it ever should have.