Page 39 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)
Michail
“Love isn’t about fixing what’s broken—it’s about growing together, roots deep and branches wide, no matter the scars.”
I feel her apprehension when her hand slips into mine. She doesn’t pull away, though. Her fingers are cool and her grip tentative, as though she isn’t sure she can trust the warmth I offer. I tighten my grip just enough to reassure her without pushing.
We step into the quiet of the forest, and the firelight behind us flickers against the darkness of the labyrinth’s walls. The night is still, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. A crescent moon hangs low, highlighting a soft silver glow over the world. I glance at her while we walk. Her head slightly bowed. Her shoulders tense.
Her question from earlier lingers in my mind. How would you serve me if I left with you?
She doesn’t know it yet, but her words had struck something deep inside me—a longing, a promise I’m determined to keep. She deserves an answer in more than just words. Words are fragile things, easily spoken and just as easily dismissed. I want her to feel what I meant.
“Niki,” I say softly, breaking the silence.
She looks up, and her wide, wary brown eyes catch the faint light.
“Do you see that tree over there?” I point to an old oak with gnarled branches stretching skyward like a sentinel.
She nods, and her gaze follows my finger.
“That tree has been here for decades, maybe longer. Its roots run deep, anchoring it to the earth. Its branches reach for the sky, offering shelter, shade, and life to everything around it. That’s what love should be like. Strong. Steady. Giving.”
She tilts her head, furrowing her brow slightly. “But what does that have to do with serving someone?”
I smile, stepping closer to the oak. “It means being rooted for them, grounded, so they always have a place to return to. It means standing tall, even when storms come, so they can find shelter. It means giving, not because you have to, but because you want to see them thrive.”
I turn to her, watching as she absorbs my words. Her eyes hold a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe hope.
“I don’t know what it’s like to be safe,” she whispers after a moment. “Or to thrive.”
“You don’t have to,” I add gently. “Not yet. But if you’ll let me, I’ll show you. Day by day, moment by moment, I’ll show you what it means to be cared for, cherished. You don’t have to carry everything on your own anymore.”
Her eyes fill with tears. However, she blinks them away quickly, straightening her shoulders. “And what if I’m not worth all that effort?”
I step closer and firmly tell her, “Niki, you are worth every effort. Every moment. Every storm.”
The breeze whispers through the leaves above us as the world holds its breath around us.
Her gaze softens, and her lips part slightly, as if she’s searching for the right words. Then, barely above a whisper, she says, “Tell me more.”
I nod, motioning for her to sit beneath the old oak. She hesitates for a moment before settling onto the soft moss at its base. I lower myself beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, but far enough to give her space.
“Do you see how the branches stretch out in every direction?” I ask, pointing upward. “That’s like love. It reaches out, covering everything it touches, offering shade and protection. But look closer. The branches are supported by the trunk, and the trunk by the roots. Without the roots, the branches would wither. Without the branches, the roots would have no purpose.”
She glances up with a thoughtful expression. “So… love is both? The strength below and the reach above?”
“Exactly. Love isn’t just about giving; it’s about growing together. A man who truly loves a woman isn’t afraid to be her roots—to support her, nourish her, and help her stand tall. And he celebrates her branches, her growth, and the way she reaches for the sky, even when it feels far away.”
Her fingers brush the bark beside her, tracing its rough surface. “But what if the tree is damaged? What if it’s broken?”
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “A damaged tree can still grow. The scars don’t stop it from standing tall. If anything, they make it stronger. They remind it of what it’s endured and how far it’s come.” I pause, letting the moment settle. “The same goes for you, Niki. You’ve been through storms, more than anyone should have to face. But you’re still standing.”
She looks down. Her fingers curling into her lap. “I don’t feel strong.”
“Maybe not yet. That’s why I’m here. To help you see it. To help you feel it. To be your roots when you need them, and your shade when the world feels too bright.”
Her shoulders tremble, and for a moment, I think she might cry. Instead, she turns to me and searches my eyes with hers. “Why? Why would you want to do that for me?”
I reach for her hand, holding it gently between both of mine. “Because you’re my mate, Niki. And that means I see you—not just the pain or the scars, but the woman beneath all of it. The woman who deserves to be loved for who she is, not for what she’s endured.”
Her breath catches, and she looks away. Her free hand grips the hem of her dress. “I don’t know if I can believe that yet.”
“That’s okay. Believing it will take time. All I ask is that you let me show you. One day at a time.”
She is quiet for a long moment. The only sounds are the rustling leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. Her fingers tighten around mine, and she turns back to me. “Tell me more.”
And so I do. I speak of forests and rivers, of how the earth sustains life and how love is meant to sustain the soul. I tell her how I want to see her grow, how I’ll stand with her through every storm, and how the greatest joy in my life will be helping her feel whole again.