His Voice of Love
ARIANA'S POV
The shower was hot—too hot—but I needed it that way. I needed the scalding water to burn away the ache in my chest, to melt the knot that had formed ever since my mother uttered those words: like my own.
I stood there beneath the spray, forehead pressed to the cool tile, arms wrapped around myself as if I could hold everything inside. But I was unraveling. Slowly. Quietly. And no amount of steam could keep the cracks from spreading.
After what felt like forever, I finally turned off the water, the room filled with fog. I dried off and slipped into one of my softest nightgowns, the kind that clung gently to my skin, whisper-light and comforting. I towel-dried my hair, combed through the tangles with fingers that trembled slightly, then padded across the room to the bed.
The sheets were cold. The pillow smelled like lavender. But sleep wouldn't come.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as lights from outside pulsed through the blinds. My mind kept replaying everything—my mother's shaking hands, her cracked voice, the pain in her eyes. The words she hadn’t meant to say.
Like my own.
Was I adopted? Was that what she meant?
My heart pounded, too loud in the stillness. I turned over. Then back. Then stared at the phone on the nightstand.
I wanted to hear his voice.
Without thinking twice, I reached for it and tapped his name.
Hardin.
The phone barely rang once before he picked up.
"Ari?"
His voice was warm, rough with sleep, but instantly alert. My chest loosened just hearing it.
"Hi," I whispered.
There was a beat of silence. Then, softly, "Are you okay?"
I blinked hard against the tears. "Not really. I... I caught my mom drinking tonight."
He exhaled slowly, like he understood exactly what that meant, what it did to me. "Damn, sweetheart. I’m sorry."
I sniffed. "She was hiding in the den, drinking alone. Said it was just a bad night, but she was shaking so hard I thought she might break. And then... she said something. Something strange."
He waited.
"She said she loves me... like her own."
He was quiet for a moment. I could hear the subtle shift of fabric, like he was sitting up in bed.
"You think she meant it literally?"
"I don’t know." My voice cracked. "But she panicked after. Hugged me and wouldn’t let go. And now I can’t stop thinking... what if she’s not my real mom? What if there are more secrets I don’t know?"
He didn’t offer easy answers. That’s one of the things I loved most about him. He listened first. Always.
"I’m here," he said quietly. "You’re not alone in this, Ari. Whatever the truth is—we’ll find it. Together."
A fresh wave of emotion washed over me. I smiled a little through the ache.
"You always say the right things."
"Only with you."
I rolled onto my side, phone pressed to my ear like it could pull him closer. "I miss you."
His voice dropped an octave, soft and teasing. "Do you now?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Do you miss me enough to want me in that bed with you?"
I laughed softly, the sound easing some of the weight in my chest. "You mean so I really can’t sleep?"
He chuckled, low and warm. "Exactly. I’d make sure you forgot all about sleep. And every single worry."
I bit my lip, smiling into the dark. "You’re terrible."
"Only when it comes to you."
God, how did he do that? How did he always know how to make me feel safe, wanted, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart?
"Hardin," I whispered.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Thank you. For picking up. For just... being there."
His voice was velvet-soft. "You never have to thank me. I’d answer your call no matter what time it is. Even if it was 3 a.m. and I was being chased by a pack of wild wolves."
I laughed again, covering my mouth. "That's oddly specific."
"Hey, I just want you to know I’m committed."
I shook my head, heart swelling. "You’re ridiculous."
"You’re smiling though, aren’t you?"
"Maybe."
He sighed, like he could finally breathe again. "Good. That’s all I wanted."
We were quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.
Then he said, “Do you remember that night in Italy? When we snuck out and went to that abandoned lookout?”
I closed my eyes, warmth flooding me. "How could I forget? We almost got caught." Back then when he was still my assistant.
"But the stars were perfect. You laid your head in my lap and made me promise I’d always tell you the truth."
"I remember."
He was quiet for a second. Then, "I meant it, Ariana. I still do. You’ll always get the truth from me. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts."
My throat tightened. "That means more than you know."
He exhaled. "You’re my heart, Ari. I don’t want you carrying everything alone. Especially not tonight."
"I don’t know what I did to deserve you."
"You just had to be you. That was enough. Always was. Always will be."
I curled deeper under the covers, the ache in my chest slowly giving way to something softer. Something safe.
"Talk to me until I fall asleep?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"Of course," he said instantly.
And he did.
He told me about some of his funny childhood memories, about a pigeon that tried to steal his sandwich. He made me laugh so hard. He described the book he was reading, the new plans for the vineyard, and the way the moonlight looked on the roof of his building right now.
His voice was a lullaby, every word weaving comfort through the threadbare places in my soul.
My eyes grew heavy, my breathing slow.
“I’m still here,” he whispered. “Just sleep. I’ve got you.”
I didn’t even realize I’d drifted off until the phone slipped from my hand and the last thing I heard was his voice, soft as a promise:
“I love you, Ariana. Sleep well, baby.”