Deep Consuming Addiction

Chapter 131

✨A Different Kind of Wish✨

Elena Vale

Elena’s smile lingered even after she dropped onto the bed, her excitement spilling over into soft laughter.

Ari watched her, head tilted slightly, something warm and unreadable settling behind his eyes.

“This is serious,” he murmured, a teasing edge in his voice. “I’ve never seen you this… happy about a birthday.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, propping her head up with her hand. “That’s because you’ve never seen me have one.”

His expression shifted—still soft, but more attentive now.

And just like that, her mind drifted back a few hours earlier.

---

The bell above the bakery door had chimed softly as Elena and Maya stepped inside, the warm scent of sugar and fresh bread wrapping around them instantly.

It was a small place—nothing fancy. A glass case filled with pastries, a few round tables, sunlight slipping through the windows like it belonged there.

Maya had picked it on purpose.

“Sit,” Maya said, already sliding into a chair. “Birthday girl doesn’t make decisions today.”

Elena laughed, shaking her head as she sat across from her. “It’s not even my birthday yet.”

“Details,” Maya waved it off, scanning the menu like it personally offended her. “You’re acting like it is, and I’m supporting growth.”

Elena leaned back in her chair, watching her friend with quiet amusement.

It felt… light.

Strange, but good.

“I’m serious though,” Maya added, glancing up. “I like this version of you.”

Elena’s fingers traced the edge of the table. “What version?”

“The one that isn’t dreading it.”

That hit a little deeper than expected.

For a moment, Elena just looked down at her hands.

“Usually…” she started slowly, “I’d go to work. Keep busy. Then go home and just… sit there.”

Maya didn’t interrupt.

“I’d think about my mom baking that chocolate cake,” Elena continued, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Lemon frosting. Always too sweet, but she loved it.”

“And your dad?” Maya asked gently.

Elena huffed a quiet laugh. “He’d stand there like it was a big event. Every year. Same thing—he’d stick right beside me the whole day. Wouldn’t let anyone take his spot.”

Her voice softened.

“Sixteen was the last time.”

The words lingered between them, heavy but familiar.

Maya reached across the table, tapping Elena’s hand lightly. “And after that… you stopped celebrating.”

Elena nodded. “It just felt like… what’s the point? It was more of a reminder than anything else.”

A small pause.

Then—

“But this year’s different,” Maya said, studying her.

Elena hesitated.

Then smiled.

“Yeah… it is.”

Maya leaned back, satisfied. “Good. Because next week. You’re booked.”

Elena groaned playfully. “You already told me that.”

“And I’m telling you again so you don’t try to escape.” Maya pointed at her. “We’re getting you dolled up. Hair, makeup, shopping—real shopping, not your ‘I’ll just get one thing’ nonsense—and dinner.”

“You’re doing a lot.”

“I’m doing the right amount.”

Elena laughed, shaking her head. “You usually take the day after because I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Exactly,” Maya said. “Which is why this is a big deal. You’re excited now. I’m not wasting that.”

Elena looked around the bakery again—the soft chatter, the clink of plates, the warmth.

For once… she wasn’t thinking about what she lost.

She was thinking about what was coming.

And strangely—

She felt okay.

"I'm not sure what Ari has planned but I'm sure he planned." Elena said.

"Then I can do the day after."

"Okay."

---

Back in the bedroom, Elena blinked out of the memory, her gaze returning to Ari.

“It just feels different this time,” she said quietly.

Ari studied her for a moment, then reached out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Good,” he said simply.

There was something in his tone—steady, certain—that made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t quite understand.

She smiled again, softer now.

“I don’t even know if you have anything planned,” she admitted, watching him carefully.

Ari’s lips curved, slow and deliberate.

“Elena,” he said, voice low, “when have I ever left something like that to chance?”

Her heart skipped.

And just like that—

The excitement came rushing back.

...

Christmas Eve settled softly over the city, wrapped in quiet lights and the distant hum of celebration.

Elena pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stepped out of the car, glancing back once before shutting the door.

“I won’t be long,” she told the driver, offering a small smile.

But truthfully—she had no idea how long this would take.

Because this wasn’t just any gift.

This had to mean something.

The little shop was tucked between two larger stores, almost easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. Warm light spilled from the windows, and inside, everything felt… still.

Personal.

Like every item carried a story.

Elena stepped in slowly, her eyes scanning the shelves—frames, handcrafted pieces, small trinkets that felt far too intimate to be ordinary.

Nothing here was loud.

Nothing here was careless.

And that’s exactly why she chose it.

“Looking for something special?” the shop owner asked gently from behind the counter.

Elena nodded, her fingers brushing over a wooden display. “Yeah… something that… stays.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “Those are always the hardest to pick.”

Elena exhaled softly.

Tell me about it.

She moved deeper into the shop, her thoughts drifting—not to Christmas, not even fully to Ari…

But to them.

To quiet mornings where he said nothing but still made her feel seen.

To the way he said her name—like it belonged to him, but never like he owned it.

To the nights he held her without asking for anything in return.

And then—

Her steps slowed.

There, sitting alone on a small shelf, was a simple handcrafted wooden box. Not extravagant. Not flashy.

But carved into the lid were two subtle details:

A delicate outline of a crescent moon…

And beneath it—a single, small star.

Elena’s breath caught.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it felt like them.

She picked it up carefully, running her thumb over the carving.

Ari had once told her, on a night she couldn’t sleep, “You don’t have to shine all the time, Elena. Even the moon borrows its light.”

She didn’t know why that stayed with her.

But it did.

Inside the box was empty—lined with soft fabric.

Waiting.

Her heart started to beat a little faster.

This wasn’t just a gift.

It was a place to put something that mattered.

Later that evening, back in her apartment before returning to Ari, Elena sat at the edge of her bed with the box in her lap.

Open.

Waiting.

She hesitated for a long moment before reaching for her drawer.

From the back—hidden, untouched for years—she pulled out a small, worn photograph.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she looked at it.

Her.

Her mom.

Her dad.

A birthday.

Chocolate cake with lemon frosting.

She swallowed hard.

This was the last piece of that life she had kept for herself.

The one thing she never shared.

The one thing she never let anyone touch.

Not even Maya.

Not even—

Him.

Elena stared at it, her chest tightening.

“Are you sure?” she whispered to herself.

Because this wasn’t just sentimental.

This was everything.

And slowly… she nodded.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I am.”

Carefully, she folded the photo just enough to fit, placing it gently inside the box.

Then, after a pause, she reached for a pen.

On a small piece of paper, she wrote:

You gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again.

So I’m giving you the part of me that never moved on.

—Elena

Her hand lingered over the note before placing it inside.

Closing the box felt heavier than it should’ve.

Like sealing something sacred.

When she finally stepped into Ari’s place later that night, the world outside felt far away again.

Warm.

Safe.

He looked up as she entered, immediately catching the shift in her expression.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, watching her closely.

Elena tried to play it off, slipping out of her coat. “Maybe.”

But she was holding the box behind her back.

Ari’s eyes narrowed slightly, amused. “What are you hiding?”

She walked toward him slowly, her heartbeat picking up with every step.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said softly.

“That it is.”

“And… I got you something.”

That got his full attention.

Elena stopped in front of him, suddenly unsure in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“This isn’t…” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s not just a gift.”

Ari’s expression shifted—serious now.

She brought the box forward.

“For you.”

He took it slowly, his fingers brushing hers for just a second longer than necessary.

And for the first time—

Elena felt nervous.

Not about what he’d think of the gift…

But about what it meant.

Because she hadn’t just bought him something.

She had given him a piece of herself—

The part she never thought she’d share again.

Ari didn’t open it right away.

That alone made Elena’s breath catch.

Most people would’ve—curiosity, excitement, instinct. But Ari just… held it. Turning the small wooden box over once in his hands, his thumb brushing over the carved crescent and star.

Like he already understood there was something inside that deserved a moment.

“Elena,” he said quietly, eyes still on it, “what is this?”

Her fingers curled into her palm. “Just… open it.”

His gaze lifted to hers—searching, steady—then back to the box.

Slowly, he lifted the lid.

The shift was immediate.

Subtle—but there.

The kind only someone paying attention would notice.

His jaw tightened just slightly as he took in the contents—the folded photo, the note resting against it.

He reached for the note first.

Elena watched every second of it, her heart climbing into her throat as his eyes moved across the words.

You gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again.

So I’m giving you the part of me that never moved on.

Silence.

Heavy.

Not uncomfortable—but full.

Ari didn’t look up right away.

Instead, he carefully set the note aside and picked up the photograph, unfolding it with a kind of care that made Elena’s chest ache.

His eyes scanned it.

Took it in.

Her as a girl. Her parents. That moment frozen in time—the cake, the smiles, the life she never spoke about.

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Elena shifted slightly, suddenly unsure of where to put her hands, her thoughts racing louder than the quiet between them.

“You don’t have to—” she started, but her voice faltered.

Ari looked up.

And whatever she was about to say—

Died instantly.

Because there was nothing detached in his expression.

Nothing guarded.

It was rare, seeing him like that.

Raw in a way he never let himself be.

“You kept this,” he said, voice lower now.

It wasn’t a question.

Elena swallowed. “It’s the only one I have.”

His gaze flickered back to the photo, then to the box, then finally back to her.

“And you’re giving it to me?”

There was something in the way he asked it—not disbelief… something deeper.

Like he was measuring the weight of it.

“I’m not… losing it,” she said softly. “I just… don’t want to carry it alone anymore.”

The honesty of that sat between them.

Unprotected.

Ari closed the distance before she could second-guess herself.

One step.

Then another.

Until he was standing right in front of her.

The box still in his hand.

“Elena,” he said, quieter now, “do you understand what you just gave me?”

Her heart pounded, but she held his gaze. “Yeah.”

“Say it.”

The request wasn’t harsh—but it wasn’t light either.

She inhaled slowly.

“I gave you something that matters to me,” she said. “Something I don’t trust anyone else with.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Not just something,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched slightly.

“…everything,” she corrected.

That was it.

That was the moment something shifted.

Ari exhaled slowly, like he felt it too.

Then, without another word, he set the box down carefully on the table beside them—deliberate, like it deserved its own space—

And reached for her.

His hand came up to her face, fingers sliding along her jaw, holding her there—not tight, not demanding—

Just… certain.

“You don’t give pieces of yourself away like this,” he said quietly. “Not unless you’re ready for what comes with it.”

Elena’s lips parted slightly. “And what comes with it?”

His thumb brushed just beneath her eye, slow, grounding.

“Me not letting you take it back.”

Her breath caught.

“I’m not planning to,” she whispered.

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes then—not dark, but intense. Possessive in a way that wasn’t about control…

But about keeping.

About protecting.

“Good,” he said.

And then he pulled her into him.

Not rushed.

Not soft either.

Firm.

Grounding.

Like he was anchoring her to something real.

Elena melted into him almost instantly, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as her face pressed into his chest.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

Because that gift—

It wasn’t just a memory.

It was trust.

And Ari held her a little tighter because of it.

After a while, his hand slid up into her hair, fingers threading through slowly.

“You said this is your first birthday you’re actually… looking forward to,” he murmured against the top of her head.

She nodded faintly against him.

“Yeah.”

He leaned back just enough to look at her again.

A small, knowing look touched his face.

“Then we’re doing it right.”

Elena blinked up at him. “Ari—”

“No,” he cut in gently, brushing his thumb over her lip when she tried to speak. “You don’t get to give me something like that and think I’m not going to return it properly.”

Her heart skipped.

“What does that mean?”

His mouth curved slightly, but his eyes stayed serious.

“It means,” he said, voice low, “this birthday?”

He leaned in just enough for his words to brush against her skin.

“You’re not going to forget it.”

And the way he said it—

Wasn’t a promise.

It was a decision.