Page 70 of HEARTSTORM

Maya had officially moved to New York.

This was finally home. Our home.

I found out what happened before she came here.

She'd torn up her clothes. Every single one.

Not out of fury. More like she was unraveling.

At first, my brain short-circuited.

Prada, Dior, all the pieces she actually loved and cared about. My mouth went dry just thinking about it.

Maya shrugged it off, calmer than ever. "I don't care about that, Grace. I only care about being here. With you."

And just like that, everything I'd worried about faded away.

None of it mattered compared to this.

I told her about Martha—how she tried to hit on me.

I braced myself for a storm. A full-on, 'I'm about to strangle her' storm.

Instead... Maya laughed. A wicked, confident laugh that made my skin tingle.

She leaned back, one hand on her hip, the other brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"Poor thing," she whispered in my ear, as if Martha were nothing more than a fly buzzing past.

She wasn't worried. She wasn't threatened. Martha didn't exist.

And once I posted a picture of Maya that Martha saw, she disappeared. For real.

No more "good morning" random texts or "wanna hang out" messages. Complete ghost mode.

Damn, she looked hot in that pic.

Anyway, today was about something else entirely.

Something important to celebrate...

Maya's graduation.

She had officially finished her Bachelor of Science in Biology.

She was on her way to becoming Dr. Maya.

The campus was crowded with students in black gowns and caps, talking and laughing all around.

I spotted Maya instantly, her cap perfectly tilted, that smile teasing me from across the stage.

She looked so happy. My chest swelled just seeing her like that.

When they called her name, she strode across the stage, confident and glowing, heels clicking, shaking hands, receiving her diploma.

Her eyes found mine from up there, and she winked at me. My stomach did a little flip.

I waved at her, cheeks burning as a few people in the crowd glanced over.

After the ceremony, she took my hand amid the celebrations, caps flying, confetti everywhere.

"You were amazing," I whispered as we finally stepped away from the crowd.

Maya leaned her head against my shoulder, smiling. "We did it, baby," she said, soft but certain.

"I'm proud of you," I said, holding her tight. "We're all proud of you, Maya," I added, my voice catching. "Even those who can't be here."

Her eyes glistened, and I knew she understood I meant her mom. I pulled her closer, and she snuggled into my arm, her damp lashes brushing my skin.

Then Lily and James strode forward, wide grins plastered on their faces.

That was part of the surprise.

I'd flown in her best friends on Victor's private jet.

Still processing the whole jet part...

"This bitch really got graduated." Lily smirked, nudging James with her elbow.

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Some things took long enough, huh, Lil?"

I caught her sly glance—she was definitely teasing about Lily and James finally being together.

Lily sneaked a look at him, rolling her eyes. "She never misses a chance to remind us."

James nodded. "Yeah, she's relentless."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll never let it slide," Maya said as I burst out laughing.

"Come on," I said, hopping forward. "Group hug!" I pulled everyone close, squeezing us all together.

There we were, all tangled, laughing at how ridiculous we looked—and somehow, it felt perfect.

Later, Maya and I found ourselves alone, a little away from everyone.

The chatter and laughter from the ceremony felt distant, almost unreal.

"I have something for you," I said, slipping my hand into my bag.

Maya turned to me, curiosity lighting up her eyes. "Oh? What is it?"

I pulled out a small journal, its cover of soft leather, embossed with her initials in gold.

"It's for you, baby," I said, offering it to her.

"Something to write down everything ahead of you—your thoughts, your feelings, the moments nobody sees but you.

I thought... maybe you could write your dreams here.

And when you look back someday, you'll remember this moment. "

Maya's eyes softened, tears sliding down her cheeks. She reached out, clutching the journal to her chest. "Grace... this is perfect."

Her arms wrapped around me, lips warm and soft as they pressed against mine.

I parted my lips slightly, and she deepened the kiss, her hand softly sliding up to cup my cheek.

"I actually have a surprise for us..." she whispered.

"You do?" I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Maya reached into her bag and pulled out two crisp, folded cards.

"Remember we said we wanted to see the Renaissance art?" she said, her smile growing with every word.

"I do..." I whispered, my gaze flicking to the cards in her hands.

"Guess what?" Maya said, eyes sparkling. "We're going to Italy!" She waved the tickets at me, grinning as I froze.

It took me a second to process it—and then my jaw dropped.

"My God, Maya..." I murmured, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

"We're going to see everything we talked about, baby," she said, brushing her thumb over my cheek.

I couldn't even speak, too stunned, too thrilled. I just hugged her so tightly we nearly lost our balance and stumbled on the grass.

"Where are we going?" I managed to say, my eyes lifting from the tickets to meet hers.

Maya locked eyes with me. "30th September," she said.

I smiled.

I'd be turning twenty-one that day.

~

"Bellissima," Maya said, smiling. "That's what they say here, right?"

"I think so," I smirked. "But you're supposed to say it while eyeing the view in front of us, not me."

"Who says I can't do both?" she replied, a teasing glint in her eye.

Today was my birthday.

We're in Italy.

And yes, Maya just flirted with me... in Italian.

But today wasn't just my birthday—there was so much more to celebrate...

Lily told us that Nick Crawford had officially been sentenced to fifteen years in prison.

Good riddance. Hope he enjoys his new home.

At the same time as this happy news, Maya found out she got into Columbia University for med school in NY.

And she was also working in her own hotel, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I couldn't stop smiling, just taking it all in.

The sun was shining, people bustled around, I was holding hands with the love of my life, and everything felt... perfect.

Maya decided the best way to celebrate all this was... spending the morning hopping from Prada to Versace and every boutique in between.

She seriously needed new clothes—no excuses. And of course, she looked beautiful in everything she tried on.

"Let's go, baby," she said, squeezing my hand. "I got us a table at a restaurant..."

I laughed. "How many surprises are you planning?"

"Trust me," she said, slipping her hand around my waist. "Just go with it."

We walked away from the crowd, a ridiculous smile on my face, as a car waited for us at the curb.

Ten minutes. That's all it took.

We pulled up in front of a charming restaurant, its glowing sign in elegant script. Wooden tables were set outside, lanterns flickering, and the smell of fresh bread made my stomach growl.

"Are you trying to make me fall for you even more?" I said, tilting my head with a smile.

"Maybe..." Maya teased. "Is it working?"

"You already know I'm obsessed with you," I said, and she chuckled, taking my hand as we stepped inside.

A waiter smiled politely the moment Maya mentioned the reservation.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Russell, please follow us."

I blinked at Maya, who didn't even flinch, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth—clearly entertained by the waiter's words.

Our table was cozy and elegant, with a soft white cloth, candles casting a warm glow, and fresh flowers. 'Yellow' by Coldplay played in the background.

Feels like Maya planned all of this... even the music.

Maya placed a hand on my lower back, guiding me as she slid out the chair to let me sit. Then she sat across from me, opening the menu like nothing happened.

"Uhm..." I cleared my throat. "So... what about the Russell thing?"

Maya looked up from the menu, raising an eyebrow. "Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah... it does."

Maya hummed in approval, then gave a small shrug. "They probably assumed that when I made the reservation."

"Yeah..." I shook my head. "It's not like you did it on purpose, right?"

"Oh, no, Gracie..." her voice mocking fake innocence. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll make it clear that we're not—"

"No," I cut her off with a smile. "Let's just go with it."

"Alright... Mrs. Russell," Maya said, a sly smirk on her lips. "What do you want to order?"

I tried not to grin like an idiot.

"Let's see what we've got here..." I said, forcing my eyes to focus on the menu.

Her fingers suddenly brushed against my thigh. "Hey, look, there's Alfredo pasta... guess I have to order it. Remember we had it the first time we—"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Yes, Maya, I remember," I stopped her before she could say everything we did that night.

"What?" she whined softly. "It's true."

I pretended to stay focused on the menu. "I'm going with this... Lasagna," I said, trying my best to sound Italian. "It seems nice."

The waiter came back to our table, notepad in hand. Maya and I repeated the names of our dishes, trying not to mess up the pronunciation.

"Thank you, Mrs. Russell," he said, addressing us both. "We'll be right back with your orders."

That last name... it suits me.

Perfectly.

Maya glanced at me, mischief in her eyes. "So... how's this birthday going so far?"

I smiled. "It's perfect, baby. You make everything perfect."

"You deserve it," she said, reaching out, her fingers brushing mine. "I want to give you everything, Grace. I love taking care of you."

I tightened my grip around her hand. "You really are dangerous when you're this sweet."

"Good," Maya smirked. "I was starting to worry I was losing my edge."

The waiter came over and set down our plates—Maya's pasta and mine. The smell hit me first, but the taste was even more amazing.

We finished the meal with the Tiramisù he recommended, and it was unreal—creamy, sweet, just perfect.

This is seriously the best food I've ever had.

"Alright, Grace... time for your favorite part now," Maya said, and somehow I instantly knew what she meant.

The drive took another ten minutes.

I kept stealing glances at her the whole way, my chest buzzing with anticipation, her hand warm in mine.

"Patience, baby..." Maya murmured, her thumb brushing my lips.

Finally, the car stopped in front of a stunning, old building that rose like a giant against the sky. A museum.

I recognized it immediately—it was a place I'd always wanted to visit, long before I even met Maya.

"Your birthday date," she said, smiling.

I was practically bouncing. "This is the best date ever."

I fought to stay composed, not to cry or look like a fool as we walked in.

We started walking through the galleries, surrounded by paintings that made my heart race, especially the Renaissance ones.

Maya stayed close, her hand holding mine as we moved from one piece to the next.

At one point, even surrounded by endless art, I caught myself taking more pictures of her than of the paintings.

Her curves caught the light perfectly, and her smile was the kind of beauty no artist could capture.

Maya noticed and chuckled, amused. "Caught you checking me out, huh?"

"Guilty," I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

We stopped in front of a painting that made my heart skip a beat.

I knew every detail, every brushstroke, like I'd memorized it a thousand times. But standing there with her, seeing it, it hit me in the chest, like I was feeling everything all at once.

"Do you remember," I said softly, turning to her, "when you told me to visualize my favorite piece of art when I needed to calm down?"

"Of course, love."

"It's this one."

Its name was The Kiss.

It's among the most passionate and intense representations of a kiss in the history of art.

It was right here in front of us.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

We just stood there, hand in hand, eyes fixed on the painting as if it had been made just for us.

Her breath hitched softly, and I realized we weren't just looking at the painting anymore—we were seeing it through each other, feeling it together.

Maya's gaze locked on mine, so deep and soulful it sent shivers racing across my skin.

Then, almost in a whisper, she said, "Grace, will you marry me one day?"

My breath caught. My knees went weak.

My eyes met hers, warmth flooding every corner of my chest.

Then a trembling smile broke through.

"Yes, I will," I whispered, my chest tightening, every breath sending sparks through my veins.

Maya's lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. Her thumb brushed the moon ring on my finger, and in that touch, I felt it: a part of her had always been mine, just as a part of me had always been hers.

I felt it all—the certainty, the love, the way my soul always knew it was her.

Our lips found each other, warm and sure, and in that kiss I knew it—our forever had already begun.

I've always known.

I don't need to decide, don't need to wonder.

It's her.

It's always been her.