Reckless

It had been a long night.

Venisa had finally slipped away from the crowd, leaving behind the music, laughter, and endless conversations that had begun to feel suffocating.

She stood alone on the highest balcony of the Montenorie estate, one hand resting lightly against the cold stone railing.

The night air was cool against her skin.

She breathed deeply.

At last, there was silence.

Above her, the moon hung bright in the dark sky.

Venisa looked at it for a long moment.

Valerie had always loved the moon.

Whenever they were children, her sister would search for it through the windows and drag Venisa outside just to watch it. She used to say that the moon looked lonely because it was always surrounded by darkness.

The memory brought a faint ache to Venisa’s chest.

She lowered her gaze.

Then she looked at her hand.

Slowly, she wiped the back of it against the fabric of her gown.

She could still remember the kisses from earlier—the brief touch Alejandro had placed upon her hand, and the other greetings she had received throughout the evening.

So many courtesies.

So many people wanting her attention.

Venisa stared at her hand as though the memory of those touches had somehow remained upon her skin.

She sighed.

Then she looked back at the moon.

“Valerie would have laughed at me,” she murmured.

For a moment, the ballroom behind her seemed impossibly far away.

Venisa closed her eyes, allowing the cool night air to brush across her face.

For one peaceful moment, she was alone with the moon.

Then—

Two powerful arms suddenly wrapped around her waist from behind.

Venisa stiffened.

The embrace was firm and possessive, the man’s large frame leaving almost no space between them. His arms encircled her completely, his hands settling securely at her waist as though he had no intention of letting her slip away.

His head settled against her shoulder, his body close behind hers.

Venisa’s breath caught.

She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back.

Then he lowered his head and pressed a small, lingering kiss against the side of her neck.

A shiver ran through her.

Her stomach twisted suddenly, and her fingers curled around the cold balcony railing.

And the unsettling familiarity of being held by the one man she had spent years trying to forget.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he murmured against her shoulder.

Venisa didn't reply.

She kept her eyes fixed on the moon, her expression carefully composed despite the warmth spreading across her face.

His arms remained firmly around her waist.

“I was reckless,” Code said quietly.

Venisa remained silent.

His arms loosened slightly around her waist, though he did not let go.

“I should have told you about the establishment myself.”

Venisa’s fingers tightened around the railing.

“I thought I was handling everything properly. I was wrong.”

Venisa finally lowered her gaze.

Code rested his chin lightly against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Venisa.”

She said nothing.

The apology hung between them beneath the moonlight.

“I didn't forgive you.”

“I know.”

His arms tightened around her again, just slightly.

“I promised you before remeber?” Code murmured.

“You actually meant that?” she finally spoke.

Code turned his face slightly toward her.

“I did.”

Venisa finally looked back at him, disbelief clear in her eyes.

She remembered his words from years ago—something he had said almost carelessly, when promises between them had seemed like nothing more than another challenge.

She had never imagined he would remember.

Venisa stared at him.

“You were reckless enough to make a promise like that.”

“And stubborn enough to keep it.”

She looked away again, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something she refused to name.

For years, she had thought those words had been nothing more than another thing Code had said and forgotten.

“I didn't think you meant it,” she whispered.

“I always meant it.” His voice was quiet. “You just didn't believe me.”

Venisa finally turned her head slightly, her expression tightening.

“But you told me you didn't love me anymore.”

The words fell between them like a blade.

Code went completely still.

Venisa looked away, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You said it yourself. You looked me in the eyes and told me you didn't love me anymore.”

His jaw tightened. “I know what I said.”

“Then how am I supposed to believe you now?”

Then his arms tightened slightly around her waist, as though he feared that if he loosened them, she would disappear from him again.

“I told you before,” he said quietly. “So many times.”

Venisa’s expression remained still.

“I told you I loved you.” His voice carried no arrogance now.

She turned in his arms, forcing him to loosen his hold enough for her to face him. Her eyes were no longer calm.

“After everything you did to me, you still think I can believe you?”

Code said nothing.

“You confessed to me before,” she continued. “More than once. Usually after we fought.”

Her voice carried a bitter edge.

“And then you would suddenly change.”

She remembered it too clearly.

After their arguments, after the bruises and sharp words, Code would become strangely gentle. He would bring her something without being asked. He would notice when she was hurt. He would walk beside her without provoking her, speak to her without sarcasm, and sometimes simply stay near her as though making sure she was all right.

It had always unsettled her.

“I didn't like it,” Venisa admitted. “Whenever you started acting as though you cared about me.”

Code's expression tightened.

“It made me uncomfortable.”

She looked directly at him. “Because I didn't know what to do with that side of you.”

They had spent years fighting each other. Teasing, provoking, competing—always trying to prove who was stronger, who could endure more.

Then Code would confess his love and suddenly treat her as though she were something precious.

Venisa had never known how to respond to that.

“I thought it was another one of your games. Another way of getting into my head.”

“It wasn't.”

“I know that now,” she snapped. “But back then, how was I supposed to know?”

Code had no answer.

His face changed.

That memory needed no explanation.

“After everything between us, that was the moment I stopped believing anything you said.”

Code lowered his eyes. “I deserved that.”

Venisa looked away.

“You kept telling me you loved me. Then you treated me like you cared. And I kept pushing you away because I didn't know whether any of it was real.”

A long silence passed.

Then Code spoke. “It was real.”

Venisa closed her eyes.

Code looked at Venisa, but his thoughts had already drifted somewhere far beyond the balcony.

He remembered the first time he realized there was something different about her.

It was the day he had been surrounded by a group of older boys.

He had been outnumbered, angry, and too proud to admit he needed help. Then Venisa appeared.

She could have walked away.

Instead, she stepped between him and the men.

She fought beside him and saved him.

That moment had stayed with him far longer than any of their arguments ever had.

He remembered looking at her afterward—the same girl who could barely stand being near him, now standing in front of him without hesitation.

That was when something inside him shifted.

Then came the cafeteria.

They had been fighting again, their argument escalating until plates were thrown across the table and shattered against the floor. It had been reckless, childish, and entirely like them.

Yet afterward, when Code realized he was bleeding, Venisa had been the one to treat his wound.

She had sat in front of him with an irritated expression, carefully cleaning the cut despite everything that had happened between them.

Her hands had been gentle.

Her voice had been annoyed.

But she had stayed.

That was the moment Code knew.

He had fallen in love with her.

Not because she was kind to everyone.

Not because she had tried to impress him.

But because beneath all their fighting, beneath every insult and every reckless challenge, Venisa had cared enough to save him.

He remembered how he had started treating her differently afterward.

Warmer.

More careful.

He would notice when she was hurt. He would stay close when she was quiet. He would find excuses to help her, even when she hadn't asked.

And every time, she looked uncomfortable.

She never trusted that tenderness.

She was used to fighting with him. She understood his anger, his teasing, even his cruelty better than she understood his kindness.

So when he confessed his feelings, she never believed him.

But Code had known the truth long before he had the courage to say it.

He had fallen for her the day she chose to stand beside him when she could have walked away.

Those were the moments that made him realize that, somehow, the girl he was always fighting with had become the person he could never stop loving.