Hi family. Welcome to Vintage Mike Tales. Thank you for being here. Your time means everything. I’m truly grateful you’ve chosen to experience this story with me. This isn’t just a tale of love. It’s a journey of healing, redemption, and finding light in the darkest corners of the heart.
So sit back, feel every word, and let the story unfold. The rain had a rhythm of its own that night. Soft, steady, relentless. It beat against the glass walls of Eric Wilson’s penthouse. the city lights beyond glowing like distant embers through the mist. He stood before the floor toseeiling window, shirt unbuttoned, collar open, one hand wrapped around a half empty glass of whiskey.
His reflection looked back at him, handsome, controlled, and utterly soulless. He used to have a heart once before the crash, before the sound of metal fire, and Kelvin’s dying breath had burned themselves into his memory. Promise me you’ll look after her. Kelvin had said blood on his lips, hand trembling as Eric held him. “Rachel, she’s all I have left.
” It had been 8 years since that night, and not a single dawn had passed, without those words echoing in his mind. The promise had become his curse. A buzz from his phone cut through the silence. He turned, jaw tightening. “It was Martha, Kelvin, and Rachel’s grandma.” “Eric,” she said, voice trembling through the speaker. I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t serious. Rachel’s been evicted.
She’s been trying to get back on her feet, but she has nowhere to go. Eric’s gaze drifted back to the city. Send her to me. There was a pause. Eric, she might not. Send her to me. He repeated his tone final, cold, the tone of a man who wasn’t used to being told no. Rachel Williams didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore. Not since the night she learned that love could hurt more than hate.
Still, she had always tried to find beauty in broken things, cracked walls, wilted flowers, strangers smiles on subway platforms. But tonight, as she stood in front of the towering glass building that housed Wilson Enterprises, soaked from the rain suitcase in hand, beauty felt like a lie. The doorman gave her a sympathetic look as he led her to the private elevator, Mr. Wilson’s.

Expecting you, Miss Williams. She forced a smile, though her heart raced. Eric Wilson, her brother’s best friend. The man who once terrified her with his silence, whose presence filled a room like smoke. Dangerous, suffocating, impossible to ignore. The elevator doors opened to the 47th floor, revealing a penthouse that felt more like an art gallery than a home.
Glass, steel, and shadows. He was waiting by the window, tall, broad-shouldered, and still heartbreakingly composed. His hair was slightly longer than she remembered, a few strands falling carelessly over his forehead. He turned slowly, blue eyes meeting hers. For a moment, neither spoke. Rachel, his voice was deep, steady, but something flickered in it, something that sounded like pain.
“Hi, Eric.” She tried to smile, her voice light, but fragile. Sorry to just show up like this. You didn’t. He placed the glass on the counter. I told them to bring you here. She looked around. I can’t stay here. This place is safe, he interrupted. And that’s what you need, she frowned. I need to learn to stand on my own, not Your brother asked me to look after you.
His voice softened just slightly, but the command underneath was unmistakable. I don’t break promises. The air thickened between them. Rachel looked away, her throat tightening. Kelvin made you promise that 8 years ago, Eric, I was 20, and you’ve cared for me all this time. But I’m not a child anymore. To he said quietly, stepping closer. You’re not.
The way he said it made her shiver, not from fear, but from something she couldn’t name. Later that night, Rachel wandered through the penthouse in one of the guest rooms. though guest room felt like an understatement. It was elegant, serene, and impersonal. She unpacked slowly, glancing around at the minimalist decor. Everything here screamed control, distance, perfection, just like him.
When she walked back into the living area, she found him sitting on the couch, sleeves rolled up, papers scattered around him. The rain had eased, replaced by the hum of the city. For a moment she watched him, how still he was, how burdened his expression seemed when he thought no one was looking. He looked up suddenly. Their eyes met, caught. “You don’t sleep much, do you?” she asked softly, walking over. He gave a faint smirk.

I could say the same about you. “I couldn’t,” she replied. “You’ve got the look of a man who tries not to dream.” His smirk faded. For a heartbeat, the mask cracked. “You shouldn’t try to understand me, Rachel.” Maybe not, she leaned against the counter. But I do. He turned fully now, eyes sharp but curious.
Do you? She nodded, her voice gentle. You think if you keep everything buried, it can’t hurt you. But you’re wrong. It’s hurting you every day. Something shifted in his expression. Anger, guilt, maybe admiration. He looked at her like she’d just spoken a truth he’d spent years avoiding. “You talk too much,” he said, but his voice lacked venom.
You listen too little, she shot back with a soft smile. For the first time, Eric Wilson, the devil with an angel’s face, laughed. It was low, rough, unpracticed, and God did something to her chest. Later, as the night deepened, Rachel found herself on the balcony. The city sprawled beneath her, alive, restless, beautiful. She wrapped her arms around herself, the wind tugging at her curls.
Inside, Eric watched her from the shadows, something stirring behind his eyes. He walked out quietly, handing her a mug of hot tea. Their fingers brushed, and the brief contact sent a current through both of them. She whispered, “Thank you.” He stood beside her, staring at the skyline. Then he spoke softly, almost a whisper.
“You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did.” She looked up at him, surprised. “What do you mean, Rachel? I know more than you think about your past.” She met his gaze steady and strong. I remember it. I survived it and I learned to find strength in the pieces it left behind. “You didn’t deserve that kind of pain,” he said, voice raw.
“No one does,” she replied, her eyes unwavering. “But it doesn’t control me anymore. And you didn’t deserve to lose him.” Her throat tightened. The silence that followed was heavy, intimate, the kind of silence that said, “Everything words couldn’t.” Rachel turned to face him fully, her eyes glistening under the city light.

Eric, why do you still punish yourself, his jaw tightened, but his eyes, those cold, haunted eyes, softened for a fleeting second. Because it was my fault. Her voice trembled with a mix of sadness and frustration. “It was an accident, Eric. You’ve carried that guilt for years, and it’s killing you.
” He looked away, his hands curling into fists. “I was driving, Rachel. I was supposed to protect him. Instead, I You both made that choice, she cut in gently, her voice breaking. Kelvin trusted you, she whispered. He would never have blamed you for anything. You were like a brother to him, Eric. He’d hate to see you carry the guilt.
Because I don’t deserve it, he said, his tone low hollow. I was the one behind the wheel. I lived. He didn’t. Tears welled in her eyes. You think punishing yourself brings him back? You think destroying yourself is what he would have wanted? His silence was heavy, the air between them thick with pain. Rachel took a shaky breath, stepping closer until she was standing right before him. I lost my brother that night.
But I’m not going to lose you to the same tragedy. Not again. He looked at her then truly looked, and something inside him cracked. The devil behind the ice met the warmth of a woman who refused to let him drown. The girl who once painted on her apartment walls with laughter, who still believed there was beauty in the world, even after everything it had taken from her. In her eyes, he saw something that terrified him. Forgiveness.
He stepped closer, his breath brushing her skin. You should hate me. I don’t, she whispered. I never could. Their eyes held, the night pulsing between them. For a fleeting second, the world outside vanished. There was only her warmth, his darkness, and the fragile bridge forming between them. But Eric broke it first. He stepped back, his face returning to stone. “You should get some rest.
” Rachel exhaled, pain and confusion mingling in her chest. “Right, good night, Eric.” He watched her walk away, her silhouette framed against the city’s glow. When she disappeared down the hall, he closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

He had promised to protect her, but as he stood alone in the silence, one truth echoed louder than the rain outside. He wasn’t sure he could protect her from himself. The first light of dawn crept through the tall windows, spilling gold across the penthouse floor. The city below was already awake, horns, footsteps, and the hum of a million lives intertwining. But inside Eric Wilson’s immaculate world, time felt suspended.
He stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, coffee mug in hand, watching the steam rise like smoke. He hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Rachel standing on his balcony in the rain, eyes glistening with understanding he didn’t deserve. When she walked in barefoot and wrapped in a thin robe, the air shifted. She paused hesitant, then smiled softly. “You’re up early. I didn’t sleep.
” He turned his gaze toward the skyline. old habits. Rachel moved closer, the scent of vanilla and coffee drifting from her skin. You’re always awake, she said gently. Like you’re afraid of the dark. He looked at her then, his blue eyes unreadable. The dark’s the only place I feel at home. Her chest achd at the way he said it, like the truth hurt him even as he accepted it.
She wanted to reach across the distance, touch his hand, tell him he didn’t have to live in shadows anymore. but instead she poured herself coffee and forced a small smile. “So, what does the great Eric Wilson do when he’s not brooding over his empire, a flicker of amusement touched his lips?” “I don’t brood,” she arched a brow. “You do.
It’s practically a profession,” his smirk deepened. “Then I must be very good at it. You’re terrible at it,” she said, her tone teasing, but soft. “You just need to remember how to live.” He studied her quietly. There it was again, the light he’d lost, the one she carried so effortlessly. But he couldn’t afford to want it.
He couldn’t afford to want her. A week passed. Rachel began working part-time as an assistant in his company, against his better judgment. It was supposed to be temporary, just something to help her rebuild her life. But from the moment she stepped into Wilson Enterprises, the walls he’d built began to tremble.
Everywhere he turned, there she was, laughing with his staff, bringing color to his sterile gray office. She had a way of making people feel seen, even in a place designed for power, not kindness. But for Eric, she was a distraction he couldn’t ignore. He’d catch glimpses of her reflection in the glass conference doors, her curls falling against her shoulders, her lips curving when she smiled, and when she looked up and caught him staring, he’d turn away like a man caught trespassing in forbidden territory. One afternoon, as she brought him files, his voice broke the silence. You’re making the
interns nervous. Rachel blinked. Me? They’re not used to someone talking to them or smiling. You’re disrupting the hierarchy. She smiled. Then maybe your hierarchy needs a little disruption. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing, amused. You think you can fix me, Rachel? Her expression softened.
I think you stopped believing anyone could. The air thickened between them. For a long moment, neither moved. The tension was invisible, but electric, an ache that lived somewhere between longing and restraint. Finally, he spoke, voice low. Close the door, she hesitated, but obeyed. The soft click of the door felt louder than thunder. He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
Why are you really here, Rachel? Why did you accept to stay? She looked down at the folder in her hands, then met his gaze steadily. You offered, I accepted. And because someone has to remind you that you’re human, his chest tightened. And what makes you think I need reminding? She stepped a little closer. The air between them charged.
Because I can see behind the walls you’ve built. I see the man you tried to hide. The one Kelvin trusted. Something inside him cracked. His voice was rough, almost a whisper. You should stay away from me. Her lips curved faintly. Maybe, but I won’t. Their eyes locked, and for one dangerous heartbeat, the world outside vanished.
His hand moved as if pulled by instinct, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her breath caught, her heart pounded in her chest. But just as quickly he pulled away, his jaw tightening. “Get back to work,” he said. Her voice trembled. “You don’t have to be cruel, Eric.” He looked at her. The storm in his eyes barely contained. “That’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.” “That night, the sky broke open. Thunder rolled over Manhattan, rain slamming against glass.
Lightning flashed, briefly, illuminating the penthouse in sharp bursts, painting the furniture walls, and Eric’s figure in stark, fleeting light. Eric sat in the dim glow of the living room, whiskey untouched beside him, staring into the darkness. “He looked different, lost, vulnerable.
“You didn’t go to the office dinner,” she asked softly, setting down her umbrella. He shook his head. “Crowds and I don’t mix.” Rachel noticed the tremor in his hand, the distant look in his eyes. He wasn’t just thinking, he was remembering the crash. Kelvin, the promises, the guilt. Nightmares again, she whispered. He didn’t answer, but the silence was enough.
Rachel moved closer, kneeling beside the couch. You don’t have to fight them alone. He looked down at her, the light reflecting in his eyes like trapped fire. I told you not to get close. Then stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, his breath hitched. The storm outside faded to nothing compared to the one inside.
He reached out slowly, fingertips grazing her cheek. The touch was light, hesitant, like he was afraid she’d shatter. “Rachel.” His voice was a rasp. “You make me forget who I am. Maybe that’s the point,” she breathed. For a moment, he almost gave in. Almost let his lips find hers. But then, like a man waking from a spell, he stood abruptly, breaking the connection. His voice came out rough, tortured. “This is wrong.
” She rose to her feet, eyes glistening. “Because I’m Kelvin’s sister. Because you deserve someone who isn’t me.” Her anger flared. “You think you get to decide that? You think you’re protecting me, but you’re just hiding.” He turned toward her, emotion cracking his composure. “You don’t understand what I’ve done, Rachel.
The man you think you see, he died with your brother. Then let me bring him back, she said, tears threatening to spill. Let me see what’s left of him. The storm raged harder outside. Lightning illuminating his face, the pain, the desire, the war inside him. He wanted her. God, he wanted her, but he couldn’t have her without destroying everything. He moved closer until she could feel his breath on her skin.
If I touch you now, I won’t stop. Then don’t,” she whispered, trembling. “Stop pretending you don’t feel this.” His hand brushed her jaw, his thumb tracing the edge of her lips. But he forced himself to step back. Every nerve in his body screamed to hold her, kiss her, surrender to her warmth. Instead, he turned away.
“I’m not the man you need.” She blinked back tears. “You keep saying that, but you never ask what I need.” He froze, her words cutting through his defenses like glass. Rachel stepped closer, her voice trembling but fierce. I need someone who sees me. Someone who doesn’t run when it hurts. Someone who still believes that broken things can be beautiful.
He looked at her, chest heaving. The silence between them burned. I don’t know how, he whispered finally. Then let me teach you, she said. The thunder roared above them. For a moment he reached for her hand, then stopped, letting it fall to his side. You don’t scare me anymore, Eric, she said softly. His eyes darkened. You should.
And yet, as she turned to walk down the hall, her heart knew the truth. He wasn’t her fear anymore. He was her weakness. And for the first time, she could feel the ice beginning to melt. Snow had begun to fall over New York, soft and silent, blanketing the chaos of the city in fragile white.
But inside Eric Wilson’s penthouse, the silence was anything but peaceful. He stood by the window, his tie loosened, hands braced against the glass. The city lights blurred through the snowflakes. A thousand glowing ghosts staring back at him. He hadn’t heard her voice in weeks. The coffee mug she used to leave half finishedish were gone. Her laughter no longer echoed in the halls.
And the worst part, he had no one to blame but himself. She had left quietly, like dawn slipping away before morning could catch it. No fight, no goodbye. Just a folded note on the counter. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt. I love you, Eric. That’s why I have to go. Rachel, he’d read it a hundred times. The words didn’t fade.
They branded themselves into him. Now his world, once driven by ambition and guilt, felt hollow. Meetings blurred. Deals fell through. Even the empire he’d built, began to feel meaningless. All that mattered was the empty space she left behind.
Rachel Williams had traded the city’s steel for the quiet hum of a small art community upstate. The town was calm, wrapped in the scent of pine and fresh snow. She rented a tiny loft above an old bakery, where the air always smelled of cinnamon and rain. Her days were spent painting, pouring her heart into color and canvas.
Every brush stroke was him, his eyes, his silence, the way his hands had trembled when they’d almost touched. She painted him as she remembered him, both beautiful and broken, light and darkness colliding. Each portrait bled with emotion, every canvas a confession. She’d never dared to speak aloud. But at night, when the world grew still, she’d find herself standing by the window, whispering into the cold, “Do you miss me, too?” She didn’t know that he did, more than words could say. Back in New York, Eric tried to bury himself in work. Every deal, every late night
meeting, every skyscraper he touched was an attempt to silence the memory of her, of the warmth in her laugh, the fire in her eyes, the way she had always seen him. Not as a devil, but as a man worth saving. But no amount of work could erase the void she left.
Every night her absence clawed at him, a relentless reminder that the one thing he had ever truly wanted was gone. He spent weeks searching, following leads, chasing whispers of her life. Each dead end carved a deeper hollow in his chest, but he refused to give up. Every cafe she might have visited. Every gallery she might have touched. He left no stone unturned. He needed to see her.
He needed to know she was alive and that she was safe. Finally, a name surfaced repeatedly, a gallery in the north of the city, hosting an exhibition of emerging artists. Rachel Williams. His heart stuttered, skipping in disbelief and hope. He didn’t hesitate. The train blurred beneath him as he left New York behind. His thoughts consumed by her.
The curve of her smile, the fire in her spirit. The way she had lit up the darkest parts of his life. The gallery was alive with muted conversation. Warm light spilling across walls filled with paintings that spoke of pain, survival, and beauty. Eric’s chest achd with every step. Every glance searching until there she was.
Rachel stood near the center, curls loose, skin radiant under the soft light, alive, free. But there was still a shadow in her eyes, a hint of the pain she carried, pain he had always wanted to shield her from. Pain he had never wanted her to endure alone. His gaze fell to the centerpiece, the devil’s promise. It was him, not the billionaire, not the man of power, but the man stripped bare, vulnerable, haunted.
He saw himself through her eyes, through the lens of her love, her understanding, and her forgiveness. Every brushstroke was a confession, a plea, and a revelation. And then their eyes met. Eric stood at the entrance, snow dusting his coat, eyes locked on her. For a heartbeat, the world fell away. The murmur of the crowd faded until there was only the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears.
He walked toward her, every step slow, deliberate, as if crossing years of distance instead of a few meters. When he finally stopped in front of her, neither spoke. His voice came first, low and rough like it had been scraped raw. You left, she swallowed hard. You didn’t ask me to stay. I thought I was protecting you.
From what? From yourself? From the way you feel about me? His jaw tightened. From the damage I bring to everything I touch. Tears welled in her eyes. You can’t protect me by breaking me. The words hit him harder than any truth he’d ever faced. He looked around at her paintings. His reflection through her eyes. You painted me.
I tried to forget you, she said softly. But every time I picked up a brush, all I saw was you. The man who hides behind glass. The man who looks at the world like he’s waiting to be forgiven. He took a step closer, voice trembling. And do you forgive me? She met his gaze, eyes wet but steady. I never hated you, Eric.
I just hated how much I loved you. The air between them ignited. Unspoken love, unhealed pain, unbearable longing. The crowd faded. The lights blurred. He reached out, hesitated, then cuped her cheek with trembling fingers. “Rachel,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve spent years trying to destroy the man I used to be.
But you, you make me want to be someone else.” Her lips parted, a tear slipping down her cheek. then be him. Outside, snowflakes drifted beneath the city’s amber street lights. Rachel walked beside him in silence, her breath visible in the cold air. He stopped under a flickering lampost, turning to face her. “You ran because you loved me,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “I did. And I’ve been chasing you for the same reason.” The confession hung between them raw and real. He took a step closer, his breath mingling with hers. You don’t understand what loving you does to me. You make me feel alive and that terrifies me. She looked up at him, her eyes shining. Then let it.
Maybe that’s how you start to live again. He laughed softly, a sound full of disbelief and ache. You’re supposed to hate me. I tried, she said, smiling through tears. But it’s hard to hate the man who saved me, even when he doesn’t believe he can save himself. He reached for her hand.
Their fingers intertwined, fitting like they were always meant to, the world around them was still, the snow falling gently like forgiveness from the sky, he whispered almost to himself. “I don’t deserve you,” she smiled sadly. “Then earn me.” Later that night, in the quiet of her small loft, the warmth between them became something they could no longer deny.
They stood close, too close by the window, the moonlight tracing the shape of their faces. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. “You should tell me to leave,” she shook her head. “I don’t want you to.” “Rachel,” he whispered, her name breaking on his tongue. “If I start this, I won’t stop.” Her eyes searched his. “Then don’t stop.” And for the first time, he didn’t. His lips met hers slow at first, then desperate.
Years of restraint unraveling in a single kiss. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, aching, human, but it was real. Every touch was an apology, every breath a promise, and when they finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together. Hearts pounding, he whispered. I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing this.
The Manhattan skyline burned gold beneath the dying light, the city pulsing with the same restless energy that once defined him. But tonight, Eric Wilson felt still, for the first time in years, still. Rachel stood beside him by the floor toseeiling window, her reflection mingling with his in the glass. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore.
It was sacred, alive, full of everything they’d both been too afraid to say. He turned slightly, his gaze tracing the soft lines of her face, the way her curls framed her eyes, the quiet strength in her presence. 8 months, he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. 8 months since I almost lost the only thing that ever mattered. Rachel’s lips curved faintly. You didn’t lose me, Eric. You just had to find your way back.
He let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh. I spent years running from ghosts. And then I realized you were the only real thing left. She looked at him then, her eyes warm and unwavering. And now he stepped closer until the city’s glow wrapped around them both. Now I’m done running. His hands found her face. trembling slightly, his breath unsteady. “Rachel,” he murmured, his voice breaking.
“You were never supposed to be mine,” she smiled through her tears, her hand touching his cheek. “And yet here I am, yours.” Their lips met, not in desperation, but in surrender. “It wasn’t the kiss of two people finding love. It was the kiss of two people choosing it, despite the pain, the fear, the impossible odds.
” When they finally pulled apart, Eric rested his forehead against hers. I spent years burying myself in work, trying to silence the guilt. But when you left, I realized none of it mattered. The only thing that made me feel alive was love. It was you. Rachel’s tears slipped silently down her cheeks, then stopped running from it.
Eric closed his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. Kelvin would have wanted me to protect you, and he’d be proud that you loved me,” she replied softly. “Because loving me isn’t betrayal, it’s healing.” Her words broke him open. The weight he’d carried for years, the guilt, the rage, the loneliness shattered.
His arms wrapped around her, and for the first time, Eric Wilson, the man the world called Heartless, let himself cry. Rachel held him tightly, her hand stroking his hair as she whispered, “It’s okay to let go now.” Outside the city buzzed, unaware that inside that glass tower, redemption was quietly unfolding. Weeks later, Eric took her to the rooftop of the Wilson Tower, the place he once called his fortress, the city stretched out below, drenched in golden twilight.
“This is where Kelvin and I used to come after long nights at the firm,” he said quietly. We planned the future here. Talked about everything except death. Rachel turned toward him, eyes softening. I promised him that I will protect you. Rachel smiled and instead you fell in love with me. He exhaled with a faint smile. Best mistake of my life. She laughed softly.
And then he grew serious again, his gaze tender. Rachel, I’ve spent years building an empire on pain, but tonight I want to start something built on love. Her heart skipped. What are you saying? He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. I’m saying, “Stay, not because I saved you, not because you need me, but because I need you.
” Tears filled her eyes as he opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond ring glinting in the city light. “Eric,” she whispered, trembling. He knelt before her. The city wind brushing through his hair. “Marry me, Rachel. Be the reason I never go back to who I was.” Rachel’s hand covered her mouth, her tears spilling freely. You already changed, Eric. I saw it the moment you let me in. He looked up at her, blue eyes shimmering with emotion. Say yes.
She nodded, laughing through her tears. Yes. Every day of my life, yes. He rose, pulling her into his arms as the city lights flickered below like stars. Their kiss was deep and unhurried. Two souls finally home.
Later that night, as Manhattan glittered below, a sea of light stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The wind carried the faint hum of the city, alive, restless, eternal. Eric stood where he and Kelvin once had, hands buried in his pockets, the same skyline reflecting in his eyes. He drew in a shaky breath, his voice low but certain. Hey, brother. His voice roughened by the wind and years of silence. It’s been 9 years.
I still find myself coming here when it gets too quiet. He let out a shaky breath. I can almost hear you laughing. I can still feel you standing right here, telling me not to take life so damn seriously. A breeze swept over the rooftop, lifting the hair from his forehead. I need to say something. Eric continued, his voice softening. I love her, brother.
Your little sister, my Rachel, he swallowed hard, eyes glinting with emotion. Our girl, the light you left behind when the rest of my world went dark. I want to make her mine, not to own her, but to love her the way she deserves. To build the kind of life we once dreamed about.
His voice cracked, a whisper of guilt and hope tangled together. I hope wherever you are, you’re okay with that because I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making her happy. For a long moment there was only the sound of the wind and the distant hum of the city, but Eric closed his eyes, and in the quiet he swore he could almost hear Kelvin’s laugh.
Feel the clap of his hand on his shoulder, the way he used to say, “Don’t screw this up, man.” Eric smiled through the ache. “Yeah, I hear you.” The garden of the Wilson estate glowed beneath strings of warm golden lights. The evening air was soft, carrying the gentle scent of roses and summer rain. guests whispered and smiled.
But the world seemed to narrow down to one thing, the aisle. Rachel stood at the top of it in a gown that shimmerred like starlight against her warm caramel brown skin. Her curls were pinned softly, framing her radiant face. Her eyes deep and steady found his. She didn’t look nervous. She looked like she was finally home. Eric’s breath caught.
He’d faced storms, built empires, lost everything that mattered. And yet nothing had ever undone him like this woman walking toward him. As she reached him, the officient’s words faded into a soft hum in his mind. All he saw was her. All he felt was everything. Rachel’s hand slipped into his warm and sure. Eric whispered just for her, “You’re my forever, Rachel.
” Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. “And you’re my home, Eric.” The efficient spoke their vows, but it was their eyes that sealed them. When he finally kissed her, the world blurred into applause and soft music. Above them, the night sky stretched wide and endless as if Kelvin himself was watching, and for the first time in years, Eric’s heart felt whole.
As the night settled over New York, Rachel leaned against him, her voice soft. Do you ever wonder how something so broken became so beautiful? Eric smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. because sometimes it takes fire to melt ice and sometimes love is the flame. She looked up at him, eyes shining. Then let’s keep burning.
And with that they stood together, watching the city below, a devil redeemed, an angel set free, and a love that refused to die. Thank you, beautiful souls for listening. If this story touched your heart, don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe. It helps this little corner of love and storytelling grow. Remember, every tale we share here is a reminder that even in pain, there’s beauty.
And in every ending, a new beginning waiting to be written. Until next time, keep your hearts open and your spirits gentle. This is vintage Mike Tales, where love always finds its