Maxim hugs me again, holding me so tightly that I feel like I could glow from happiness, as if a small, warm star has ignited inside me. When he calls me, as before, "my love"—the word sounds so gentle and sincere that I feel like I might faint from the overwhelming happiness. The pleasure I get from being in his arms again makes me feel like I could forgive him for anything—all mistakes, all failures, everything that once separated us.
Instead of answering, I hug him tightly around the neck, feeling a shiver run through my body—because this is how much I have missed him all these years: his warmth, his scent, the sense of safety he always gives me. This is the feeling I've been missing so much, and now it's here, beside me, real and alive.
"Forgive me, you fool," he continues.
"You're not a fool," I say, smiling at him softly and warmly, moving slightly away to look into his eyes—the eyes I love so much.
"Then who am I? A goat?" He remembers with a smile how I once called him that at the races, and the moment becomes light and funny amid all our tenderness.
"No, you're Rebel Boy," I reply proudly, looking at him with love and respect.
"Rebel Boy?" Maxim is surprised, as if hearing this word for the first time, but with genuine interest.
"Yes, a real Rebel Boy. I used to be one, and you called me Rebel Girl. Now it's my turn." I kiss him on the cheek, feeling his skin warm under my lips, and hug him again, not letting go.
"For you, baby, I'm willing to be anyone, as long as you're by my side," he whispers, his voice filled with such depth and sincerity that I believe him with all my heart.
"I will, Max. I'll be with you until the end. Now only you can separate us, because I'm never leaving you again." I give him my promise, full of determination and love.
"I believe you, my dear. From now on, we are always together. I love you."
My Rebel Boy starts kissing my neck, and his caresses make me flush with heat, as if a fire of tenderness spreads through my body, igniting such a delicate and sweet excitement that my heart beats faster and my breathing becomes uneven and deep. Every touch is like a quiet whisper of passion, awakening the most tender and intimate feelings in me. In that moment, it feels like the world around us freezes, and only he and I exist—in this incredible, sweet union of warmth and desire.
"Wait," I ask him, feeling my heart race faster.
"Is something wrong? You don't want this?" He gets nervous, a hint of worry appearing in his eyes.
"No, my dear, it's fine. But I don't want to do this in front of my grandmother's house, you understand what I mean," I say softly, knowing Maxim will understand, since my grandmother is clearly watching us from the window, and I don't want extra eyes or curious looks.
"So, what do we do?" he asks, trying to hide his impatience and wave of desire.
"First, we'll go into the house, talk to her a little, ask her to stay with Mary, and then we'll go and be alone in a hotel. There's one nearby."
I start explaining our plan to him, carefully and with a slight smile, feeling his hands gently sliding through my beloved hair—the very hair I love, now his, as if an invisible thread connects us. Every touch is full of care and tenderness, as if he silently tells me that he values and protects me. At this moment, my heart fills with warmth and trust, and my voice sounds confident, because together we are stronger, and every word we speak, his or mine, seems like a promise of a future we build together.
"Okay. I'll do as you wish," he agrees, and I feel a calm happiness blooming inside me.
I step back and take his hand, gently pulling him toward the house, feeling our fingers intertwine, as if promising each other that from now on, everything will be different—better, stronger, real.
"Katrin?" my Rebel Boy stops, his voice carrying a quiet uncertainty, as if he's fighting something inside himself.
"Why aren't you coming, Max?" I ask anxiously, my heart suddenly beating faster with a sense of foreboding. His face is serious, his eyes reflecting an internal struggle, and I feel a slight shiver run down my spine.
"I need to lock the car at least," he begins, his voice softening, filled with a special warmth, almost vulnerable. "And I wanted to tell you something…"
"Yes, I'm listening carefully," I respond, stepping closer. My chest tightens with excitement—I feel that something important is about to happen.
Maxim takes my hand with unexpected tenderness and places it on his chest over his heart. His palm is warm, and beneath it, his heartbeat races, as if he is just as nervous as I am. It reminds me of when I recently placed my hand on him while trying to stop him from fighting without rules. Then, I wanted to protect him from danger, and now—from the past.
"You and our daughter are the most precious things in my life. I love you both, and I won't hurt you anymore," his voice trembles, but it carries determination, as if each word is hard-earned. "Forgive me for subjecting you to such torment. I don't want to live in that horrible past anymore or drag you into it. Let's be together again. If you refuse, I will accept any conditions you have about seeing Mary."
These words break the dam of suppressed feelings in me—tears rise to my eyes, my heart tightens with tenderness.
"Can I answer?" I ask, trying to stay calm, though a storm of emotions rages inside me.
"Yes, of course," he looks at me with such hope and warmth that it becomes hard to speak.
"Maxim, I love y—" I can't even finish confessing my love because he kisses me, interrupting my words, as if he can't wait any longer. His lips cover mine with the same passion and trembling that only those feel who have held back their emotions for too long.
Hugging him, I run my fingers through his hair, as he always likes. His hair is slightly damp from the rain that drizzled earlier, but it feels so familiar, so warm, that I feel at home. Through my touches on his head, I seem to feel the rhythm of his thoughts, his breath, his tenderness that never leaves, even when there was pain between us.
Our kiss is gentle, filled with our love, as if our souls reconnect, healing each other. In these seconds, there is no time or world around us—only us, two people lost in our happiness and finally finding each other again.
When we break the kiss, I push him on the shoulder, and in that movement, there's everything: a little hurt for the interrupted words, playfulness in which we are familiar partners, and love flowing in every glance, every touch. I feel like I've regained the part of my heart I once lost—and now I never want to let it go.
"Will you let me confess my love to you or not?" I ask, pouting, but my voice carries a gentle reproach.
My Rebel Boy starts laughing—genuine, clear laughter—and it fills me with warmth, as if we have become ourselves again.
"Sorry, I just couldn't hold back my emotions. You can continue, I won't interrupt," he says, still smiling, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
"I won't," I pretend to walk away, turning slightly, barely holding back a satisfied smile.
Maxim runs to me and hugs me from behind, holding me tightly, pressing his whole body against mine, as if afraid of losing me again. His embrace is strong, desperate, filled with deep longing, as if trying to express everything he cannot say with words. I can't resist—I rest my head on his chest, enjoying our touches, his warmth, this moment where all worries vanish. His heart beats right by my ear—fast, uneven—and I feel in it the same storm that rages inside me. Time seems to stop, and in this fragile silence, filled only with our breaths and the beating of two hearts, I feel safe, as if I have finally found what I've been searching for—Maxim.
"Don't be upset, my love," he asks, kissing my cheek, his voice almost a whisper that penetrates the soul.
"I'm not upset, Max. I love you, and I don't want to be apart from you anymore," I reply with a happy smile, my heart singing, a whole garden of hope blossoming inside me.
"Now we're together forever," he whispers, holding me close, as if he wants to become one with me. "Now let's go inside before you get cold."
My man steps away from me, and I feel dissatisfied. I want to be close to him again, to keep this magic from ending even for a second. But I understand that we need to talk to my grandmother first—it's important to close this circle.
"With you, I'll never get cold," I say, hugging his arm with mine, and this simple phrase means everything: a confession, a vow, a new chapter of our story.
"Please, tell me, what would have been your wish if I had lost that race?" he asks, a hint of sadness mixed with warmth in his voice, as if he's returning to thoughts that haunted him for so long.
I turn to him, looking at that familiar face. His eyes are full of expectation and softness, and a barely noticeable smile trembles at the corners of his lips. At this moment, he seems so vulnerable, so real—as if not the man who has endured pain and struggle, but the boy I once fell in love with.
"I wanted you to forgive me," I answer honestly, keeping my gaze on him. The words slip quietly from my lips, almost a whisper, but they carry everything: regret, hope, love. My heart beats so hard I fear he might hear it.
"Then congratulations, your wish has come true. I forgive you," Maxim says, his voice so soft and warm, as if wrapping me from the inside.
I hug him in happiness, pressing close, as if afraid this might disappear, dissolve into the air like a dream. I try not to cry, holding back with all my strength, but tears betray me and roll down my cheeks. I hide it with a smile, but inside I tremble with tenderness and gratitude. He wipes my tears with his thumb, so gently and tenderly, as if touching glass he's afraid to break. Then he leans down and kisses me softly—there's no rush in this kiss, only silence, understanding, and the forgiveness we've been seeking from each other for so long.