It wasn't just from the sudden chill in the air, though that was part of it. It was from the memory of being so publicly, so thoroughly claimed, from the sheer, undeniable power of his presence that even strangers could feel.

"Cold?" Eros asked, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her into the protective circle of his warmth.

"A little," she admitted, leaning into him. "But I like it. Being out here with you. Feeling… alive."

He held her closer against his side as they walked, his presence a shield against the world, his body a confirmation of every choice she had made.

They passed through wrought iron gates into a small park, an unexpected bowl of silence in the heart of the sprawling metropolis. Old-growth trees provided a dense canopy, and shadowed benches offered secluded corners.

At its center, a fountain threw liquid moonlight into the air, the water sparkling and shattering into a million pieces as it fell, the sound a gentle, soothing music that seemed to cleanse the air of the city's sins.

The park was their private sanctuary. No one else was there. Just the quiet lap of water from the central fountain and the city's hum in the distance.

Eros led her to a secluded bench, and Patricia immediately curled into his side, her body seeking his warmth and protection. His arms came around her, a solid presence that made her feel safer than she had in her entire life.

"Thank you for today," she said softly, her voice a murmur against his chest. "For just… letting me be. For not making me feel like I had to compete with the other women. For just letting me exist."

"Patricia," he said, his voice serious, his chest vibrating against her ear. "You don't have to thank me for that. You don't have to compete. You're not... you're different."

She lifted her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Different how?"

Eros was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the sparkling fountain. Then he spoke, the words coming out on a breath of sheer, terrifying honesty. "I'm in love with you."

Patricia's breath caught in her throat, a choked gasp.

"Not just the sex," he continued, raw emotion making his voice rough. "Not just the connection. Not just who you are or what you told me. I'm in love with you. With the woman who wanted to raise a baby she had every reason to hate. The woman who's carried love silently for almost seventeen years under a mountain of pain. The woman who's been invisible but never stopped being kind underneath it all."

Tears welled in her eyes, hot and immediate, tracing paths down her cheeks.

"I don't know how it happened this fast," Eros admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know how I fell this hard in less than two days. But I did. I'm in love with you. Completely. Terrifyingly. Deeply."

"Eros—" The name was a broken whisper.

"You don't have to say it back," he said quickly, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I just needed you to know. Needed you to understand that this isn't just some weekend thing for me. That you're not just another woman. You're you. And I love you."

"Are you an idiot?" Patricia managed, though the words were tangled in her tears.

"What?"

"I already told you I was falling in love with you this morning," she said through a watery laugh. "But I lied. It wasn't falling. I'd already landed. I'm in love with you, too. So deeply it terrifies me. So completely I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to my life on Monday."

He kissed her then, right there on the bench in the empty park. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but one of profound, soul-shattering emotion. It was a confirmation, a sealing, a vow. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together, their tears mingling.

"We're insane," Patricia said through her tears, but her heart felt light, free.

"Apparently we do," Eros said, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "But we're not the only ones. People fall in love in a day all the time."

"People our age don't," she countered.

"You're not your age," he corrected gently. "You're timeless."

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt like the sun coming out. "What are we going to do? I'm married. You're… you have all those other women. And I'm very many years older than you. That I can be your mother. And you're—"

"I don't care," Eros said, his voice firm, his resolve unshakable. "About any of it. I care about you. About this. About us."

"But the logistics—"

"Patricia," he cut her off, his voice softening as he cupped her face. "I love you. Really love you. And I'm not letting you go back to being invisible. I'm not letting you waste another year of your life, let alone seventeen. We will figure it out. I have resources you can't imagine. But we will figure it out, together."

"I'm scared," she admitted, the word the most honest thing she'd said all day.

"That's what makes you brave," he whispered. He held her tight, his arms her fortress against the uncertainty of the world.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, the sound of the fountain a gentle symphony to their chaotic emotions.

Finally, Patricia pulled back, her expression clearing as resolve hardened within her. "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I'm going to file for divorce."

Eros stilled. "Patricia—"

"Don't," she interrupted gently. "Don't try to talk me out of it. Don't say it's about me. This isn't about me, and it's not about you. This is about US." She squeezed his hands. "I deserve to be seen. I deserve to be happy. You showed me that. You made me realize I'm worth fighting for. And I'm not going back. I'm done being a ghost in a house that doesn't see me."

"Then we'll fight," Eros said, his vow a promise whispered in the night. "Together."

They walked back hand-in-hand, their fingers laced, a tangible bond connecting them. The streets were quieter now, the late hour thinning the crowds.

They still stared, their gazes a mix of envy and awe, but Patricia no longer cared. Each person who looked at them, at him and at her, at their joined hands, was just more proof that she was alive, that she was seen, that she was his. And she was proud.

As they approached the Celestial Grand, its glass facade a beacon of luxury, she stopped.

"Eros?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens Monday. Whatever reality comes for us. Promise me that tonight is ours. Just us. No one else. Just you and me."

He stopped, turning to face her, his intensity burning like a star. "Tonight is ours," he promised. "Tomorrow morning belongs to us, too. And every morning after. You're mine and I'm yours. That's all that matters."

She kissed him, there on the street, a public declaration that was more intimate than any secret. When they parted, and he led her into the hotel, through the lobby and into the elevator, Patricia felt a surge of pure, unadulterated hope.

"As soon as we get upstairs," she whispered as the elevator doors closed and they began their rapid ascent, "make love to me. Slow. Like last night. Like we have all the time in the world."

"We do," Eros said, his voice a low, seductive promise. "We have all the time in the world."

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, and as he led her inside, Patricia felt something she hadn't felt in twenty-three years. Hope. Not just a wishful thinking, but a solid, undeniable belief. Hope that love was real.

That happiness was possible. That she was finally, truly, on her way home.

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