Our Accidental Forever
Chapter 90: Burning the Contract

Chapter 90: Burning the Contract

Arec’s POV:

I lay on the bed, taking in Ella’s peaceful form. The curve of her cheek resting on the pillow and the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing, something inside me felt irrevocably changed.

It was deeper than anything I’d felt before, a mix of pride, protectiveness, and a sense of belonging I’d never expected.

My gaze drifted around the room, my lips twitching at the sight.

Our clothes lay scattered in every direction, a blouse draped over the nightstand, her skirt barely clinging to the edge of the bedpost, and my shirt tossed carelessly on the floor.

It looked like a storm had torn through, only this one was one I wouldn’t trade for the world. I let out a low chuckle, remembering the first and only other time we’d shared a bed.

Back then, I’d kept myself as still as possible, feigning sleep while she’d slipped out, hoping I wouldn’t wake up to notice her absence. I remembered how I’d stayed there, pretending not to hear the soft creak of the door as she left, and how a pang of disappointment had sat heavy in my chest after she’d gone. How time flies, I thought, smiling to myself as I gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

This time, though, there was no need for sneaking. No veil of pretense, no contract looming over us. It felt... real.

Sliding carefully out of bed, I glanced over at Ella once more before bending down to gather our clothes.

I picked up her blouse, running my fingers over the soft fabric for a second, then placed it neatly on the nearby chair, one item after another until the room was somewhat organized again. The thought of what I had planned next brought a flutter of excitement, a strange feeling, considering I wasn’t one for such sentiments usually.

The first thing I’d do today was burn that contract. It had served its purpose, yes, but that wasn’t what I wanted with Ella anymore. What we’d shared last night felt far too genuine to be confined to an agreement or obligation.

No, I wanted something real. A wedding where she’d be mine in truth, not because of any legal stipulation. But I knew this wasn’t something I could decide on my own; I needed to discuss it with her first. Somehow, though, I was sure she felt the same, her every touch, every word last night spoke louder than any contract ever could.

With that thought bolstering my confidence, I made my way to the kitchen, intent on preparing something for her. As I stepped inside, the familiar yet untouched atmosphere struck me.

Everything sat exactly as I’d last left it, each utensil, dish, and spice in its place, pristine and unused. It was almost as if the kitchen had been frozen in time. I chuckled to myself; I couldn’t picture Ella here, not bustling about, anyway. Maybe it was time I changed that, even if it meant just a bit of chaos.

I started rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients for a simple breakfast, eggs, a bit of cheese, tomatoes, and some bread for toast. I knew my way around the kitchen, thanks to years of learning by necessity, but today felt different. Each slice, every beat of the eggs, every sprinkle of salt felt like a small act of devotion.

My mind drifted to Sam, picturing his inevitable reaction when he heard about this turn of events. Knowing him, he’d probably shriek like a high school girl and demand every last detail, especially if I told him about my plan to burn the contract.

As I diced the tomatoes, I could almost hear his voice echoing in my head, "You’re finally doing it, Arec! About time."

I shook my head, stifling a grin as I cracked the eggs into a bowl, adding a touch of salt and pepper before whisking them until they were a smooth, pale yellow.

I poured the eggs into the heated pan, watching them bubble around the edges as I stirred.

I slid over to the coffee maker, grinding some fresh beans as the smell filled the room. It was earthy, rich, a comforting scent.

While the coffee brewed, I turned my attention back to the eggs, sprinkling cheese and tomatoes over them, folding the mixture carefully. It was a simple breakfast, but for Ella, I wanted it to be something that made her feel... cherished.

With everything sizzling and toasting, I had a few moments to think. It felt strange to think of how different things were just a few weeks ago, back when Ella was nothing more than my contracted fiancée.

And yet here I was, making breakfast, anticipating the look on her face when she realized I wanted this forever.

Finally, I plated the eggs, placed two slices of buttered toast beside them, and poured us each a cup of coffee. It wasn’t elaborate, but it was something I’d made with her in mind. With everything set, I carried the tray back to the bedroom, trying to keep the plates from clinking too loudly.

Ella was stirring as I walked in, her eyes blinking open as she registered my presence. A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face, and I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling an unfamiliar warmth flood through me.

"Good morning," I said, settling the tray on the side table.

She looked from the tray to me, clearly surprised, before propping herself up against the headboard, her hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders. "Did you... make breakfast?"

I nodded, unable to hide my grin. "For you, yes. I thought you might be hungry after... last night."

Her cheeks flushed at the reminder, a soft blush coloring her face. It was endearing to see, and I found myself hoping she’d always look at me like that, flustered, happy, just as in love as I felt. I handed her a cup of coffee, watching as she took a sip, her eyes closing in satisfaction.

"This is amazing," she murmured, savoring the warmth of the cup in her hands.

We ate in comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Every now and then, her eyes would drift over to me, that soft, happy look still lingering. And then, as we were finishing up, I decided it was time to tell her.

"Ella," I began, setting my coffee down and looking directly into her eyes. "I want to tear up the contract. It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. You mean more to me than any piece of paper ever could."

Her eyes widened, and I could see the surprise and then understanding settle in. She set her fork down, reaching across the bed to take my hand.

"Arec... are you sure?" Her voice was soft, almost uncertain.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything," I replied, squeezing her hand. "I want this to be real. I want us to be real."

She didn’t respond right away, but the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. When she finally nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips, my heart felt like it might burst.

"So... does this mean we’ll be planning a real wedding?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I chuckled, nodding. "If you’ll have me, yes.