Page 90 of Marrying My Professor

His thumbs brush across my knuckles, the gesture tender despite the weight of his words.

"But somewhere between that courthouse and here, that transaction became the realest thing in my life. You became the realest thing in my life." His voice catches slightly, and I see him swallow hard before continuing. "I spent fourteen years as a prisoner of the Veritas. Fourteen years counting days and planning escapes and dreaming about freedom. And then you walked into my classroom—this fierce, brilliant, reckless woman who looked at me like you could see past every mask I wore."

A tear slides down my cheek, and he releases one of my hands to catch it with his thumb.

"You didn't save me from captivity," he continues. "If anything, I'm more trapped now than I was before. But Elara, you saved me from something worse than captivity. You saved me from being alone in that captivity. From facing every day without purpose or meaning or hope."

His hand moves to cup my face, and I lean into the touch, into the warmth and certainty of him.

"So today, I'm choosing you again. Not because the Veritas demands it. Not because it's the only way to keep you safe. I'm choosing you because I love you. Because you're my partner in every sense—in crime, in survival, in this beautiful, fucked-up life we're building together. I'm choosing you because even if I could go back and change everything, even if I could undo every decision that led us here, I wouldn't. Not if it meant losing you."

His voice breaks on the last word, and now he's crying too, tears tracking down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away.

"You are worth every sacrifice," he says fiercely. "Every extended sentence. Every year of service. Every compromise and submission and humiliation the Veritas demands. You are worth all of it and more. And I will choose you—this life with you—every single day for as long as I'm breathing."

I'm full-on sobbing now, unable to control the emotion flooding through me. Maria offers me a tissue from somewhere, and I take it gratefully, trying to compose myself enough to deliver my own vows.

Alexander waits patiently, still holding my face, still looking at me like I'm something precious instead of the woman who destroyed his chances at freedom.

Finally, I manage to breathe steadily enough to speak.

"Alexander," I begin, and my voice is rough, wrecked. "The first time we met, I was pretending to be someone I wasn't. Playing a role. Hunting for information about my brother's death while wearing a mask of normalcy."

I take a shaky breath, remembering that New Year's party, the blue dress, the way he looked at me like he could see straight through every pretense.

"And you—you were pretending too. Pretending to be Alexander Draven, mild-mannered law professor. When really you were Atticus Drexel, prisoner and survivor and someone who understood masks better than anyone I'd ever met."

My hands tighten on his, needing the anchor of his touch.

"We built our relationship on lies and pretense and desperate need. I needed information. You needed—" I pause, remembering. "—something real in a life that had been fake for so long. And somehow, impossibly, those lies became truth. That pretense became real. That desperate need became love."

"I didn't just marry you to survive the Veritas," I continue, my voice growing stronger. "I married you because somewhere between that club and your office and the moment you stood in front of the Order and extended your service to forever—I fell completely, irrevocably in love with you."

His breath hitches, and I see fresh tears well in his eyes.

"You gave up everything for me," I say, needing him to understand, needing him to really hear this. "Your freedom. Your future. Your carefully constructed plans for escape. You gave it all up to keep me alive. And I know you say it was worth it, I know you say you'd do it again, but Alexander⁠—"

I pull his hand to my chest, pressing his palm against my heart so he can feel it racing.

"—I need you to know that I would do the same. If our positions were reversed, if the Veritas demanded I bind myself forever to save your life, I would do it without hesitation. Without regret. Because you are worth every sacrifice. Every compromise. Every year of service."

I'm crying harder now, the words pouring out faster.

"You've been my professor, my mentor, my Dom, my husband. You've been my partner in investigation and revenge and survival. You've taught me about power and vulnerability and the ways they intersect. You've shown me that strength isn't about independence—it's about choosing the right person to depend on."

Maria is crying now too, I notice peripherally. But my focus is entirely on Alexander, on the way he's looking at me like I've just given him something invaluable.

"So today, I'm choosing you again," I say, echoing his words. "Not because I have to. Not because the Veritas demands it. I'm choosing you because you're mine. Because we're bound by blood and vows and shared sins that make us perfect for each other in all our broken, fucked-up glory."

I reach up to wipe his tears with my free hand, the gesture mirror to all the times he's done the same for me.

"I'm choosing you because I love you," I finish, the declaration simple and complete. "I love you, Alexander Draven. And I will choose you—this life with you—every single day until there are no more days left to choose."

The silence that follows is heavy with emotion, with six months of marriage and murder and survival compressed into this single perfect moment.

Maria clears her throat softly. "Do you have rings?"

We do. New ones, purchased specifically for this ceremony. Alexander pulls a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal two simple platinum bands—no diamonds, no elaborate designs, just smooth metal that catches the fading sunlight.