Henry's glide steadied, though his shoulders remained stiff. Aria skated backward, holding his hands tightly, her laughter ringing through the cold arena.
"See?" she teased. "You're not falling yet."
"Yet being the operative word," Henry muttered. His grip on her hands was almost crushing.
Aria arched a brow. "Relax. You're acting like the ice is about to swallow you whole."
"Because it might."
She giggled and tugged him gently forward. "You don't trust me?"
Henry's dark eyes flickered to hers, the usual composure slipping into something rawer. "I trust you. I don't trust physics."
Aria's laughter spilled out, brighter this time. "You can't negotiate with gravity, Henry."
He smirked faintly. "I negotiate with everything."
She rolled her eyes but softened her grip, sliding closer until her body brushed against his chest. His breath caught. The distance between them vanished, replaced by the faint heat radiating from her even in the chill.
"You're too tense," she murmured. "Bend your knees, lean into me."
"That sounds like a trap."
"Maybe it is," she whispered mischievously. "But it's the only way you'll stay upright."
For a moment, Henry let her lead, his tall frame lowering just slightly, his posture easing. The glide grew smoother, their steps syncing.
Aria smiled proudly. "See? You're not hopeless."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mock offense. "That was meant as a compliment?"
"Of course. My standards are very high."
"Clearly. You married me."
The playful jab caught her off guard, heat rising to her cheeks. She looked away, focusing on the rhythm of their steps.
But her distraction was costly. Henry's skate wobbled against a groove in the ice, and before she could steady him, his weight tipped forward.
"Henry—!"
He stumbled, pulling her with him. Aria squealed, bracing for impact—only to feel his arm snap around her waist. They toppled together, but instead of crashing painfully, Henry twisted mid-fall, taking the brunt of it on his shoulder. Aria landed squarely against his chest, breathless but unhurt.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Their noses nearly brushed, her palms pressed flat against the hard plane of his chest. His hand still clutched her waist, firm and protective.
The silence stretched, broken only by their shallow breaths and the faint hum of the arena lights.
"Smooth landing," Aria whispered finally, her lips twitching with a grin.
Henry's mouth curved, his voice low. "Calculated."
"You dragged me down on purpose?"
"I kept you safe," he countered, his tone carrying that familiar arrogance—but his gaze was softer than she'd ever seen it.
Aria's chest tightened. For the first time, she wasn't looking at the cold, untouchable Henry everyone feared. She was staring into the eyes of a man who'd just risked bruising himself to shield her.
She sat up slightly, but his hand didn't release her waist. It lingered, warm and grounding.
"Are you going to let me up?" she teased, though her voice came out quieter than intended.
"Do you want me to?"
Her throat went dry. She forced a laugh, easing off him. "We'll both freeze to death lying here."
He finally released her, rising with the fluid grace of someone used to commanding every room—though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him. He extended a hand, pulling her effortlessly to her feet.
They skated in silence for a while after that, the earlier laughter simmering into something heavier, charged. Aria focused on teaching him the basics—small steps, gentle glides—but Henry's eyes never strayed far from her face.
When they finally reached the edge of the rink, Aria leaned against the boards, catching her breath. Henry stood close, his presence a wall of warmth.
"You're better than I expected," she admitted.
"I told you. I negotiate with everything." His lips quirked, but then his expression shifted, more serious. "Even you."
She blinked, uncertain. "What do you mean?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You've been honest with me, more than anyone else ever has. And now I have to be honest with you."
Her pulse hammered. "What honesty?"
He searched her face, as though memorizing every line. "Do you still want to leave me, Aria? Do you still want that divorce?"
The question struck her like a blade. She gripped the boards behind her, knuckles white.
"I…" She faltered, her voice barely audible. "I don't know anymore."
Henry's jaw clenched, though not in anger. In restraint. "Then don't decide yet."
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
"Don't decide until you're sure." His hand lifted, brushing lightly against her arm, a hesitant touch that sent shivers down her spine. "You're still healing. Not just your body, but everything else. Let the treatment finish. Let yourself recover. And in that time… let us try. Let's see if we can be more than what we started as."
Aria's lips parted, but no words came. His voice was too steady, too sincere.
Henry leaned closer, close enough that his breath mingled with hers. "If, at the end of it, you still want to go, I'll give you your freedom. But until then, I want to try loving you. I want you to try loving me."
Her heart thudded violently. "Henry…"
He gave a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "You don't have to answer now. Just… promise me you'll stay. At least until then."
Silence stretched, filled only by the hum of the rink and the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. Finally, Aria nodded, tears pricking her eyes.
"I'll stay."
Relief flickered across his features, subtle but unmistakable. His hand brushed hers, fingers curling, intertwining with hers for the first time.
Aria didn't pull away.
Instead, she squeezed back.
The rest of the afternoon dissolved into softer moments. Henry made another clumsy attempt at skating, only to stumble again—this time into her arms. They both laughed, the tension breaking, replaced with warmth.
They circled the rink slowly, hand in hand. Aria guided him patiently, teasing him when he frowned too hard at his footing.
"Relax," she murmured. "You don't have to control everything."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "That's easy for you to say."
She smirked. "It's not easy. I just trust myself. And now, you're going to have to trust me."
Henry's eyes softened, his grip tightening. "I already do."
---
As they stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air, Henry carried her bag despite her protests. The car waited, but neither moved to enter immediately. Instead, they lingered by the entrance, the quiet hum of the city around them.
Aria turned to him, her expression softer now, stripped of playful teasing. "Thank you. For today. For arranging everything. For being here."
Henry studied her for a long moment, his gaze steady, intense. "I wanted to see you reclaim what was stolen from you. And I did."
Her throat tightened, emotion welling in her chest. She looked down, blinking rapidly. "I don't know what I would've done without this chance."
"You would have found another way," Henry said quietly. "Because that's who you are. But I'm glad I could give you this one."
Their eyes met, unspoken words thick between them. For a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed to just the two of them—the chill of the rink, the warmth in their chests, the fragile hope of something new.
Finally, Aria smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Next time, we'll try a spin."
Henry groaned softly. "God help me."
She laughed, the sound bright and free, echoing into the air.