The phone call came at 2:17 a.m.
Liana woke to the sharp buzz of Nathaniel's work phone vibrating on the nightstand. He answered it with his usual calm voice—but the silence after was different.
Cold. Heavy.
He didn't speak for several seconds after hanging up.
"What happened?" Liana asked softly, already sitting up.
He stared straight ahead.
"The board voted without me," he said, voice tight. "They've frozen the development deal. Investors are pulling out. Half of our international projects are suspended."
Liana placed her hand on his.
"This is the company I built from nothing," he whispered. "They're acting like I'm replaceable."
"You're not," she said immediately.
But he didn't seem to hear her.
Nathaniel Reyes—calm, composed, always in control—stood up from the bed and began pacing. Not shouting. Just… lost.
"I worked every day for years. I missed holidays. I missed life. For what?"
Liana rose and stood in front of him, placing both hands on his chest.
"For this moment," she said gently.
He looked at her, eyes stormy. "This moment?"
"Yes," she said. "So you could finally understand that work was never meant to be your life. It was only ever supposed to support the one you build."
"And what is my life now, Liana?"
She stepped closer. "Me. Us. This home. The mornings with pancakes and silence. The nights you read beside me. The part of you that doesn't need to impress anyone to be enough."
His walls cracked then—not loudly, not dramatically. Just a shift in his eyes, a tremble in his shoulders.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her.
"I'm scared," he admitted. "I don't know who I am if I'm not the man in the boardroom."
"You're the man who brings me mango juice. Who writes notes on locket paper. Who listens."
He chuckled softly, brokenly. "That doesn't sound very powerful."
"It sounds like someone worth loving," she whispered.
He pulled her into his arms then—not because he needed to fix her, but because this time, she was the one holding him up.
The next morning, the business headlines were harsh.
But in the kitchen, Liana made cinnamon toast and warm tea.
And when he sat beside her, still quiet, still shaken—she didn't say a word. She just reached over and gently linked her fingers with his.
Because when the world outside crumbles, love doesn't shout.
It stays.