"Open it, Ven," I said quietly. "But before you do... when I told you I would worship you, I meant it. Every word. You're my goddess — of love, of desire, of beauty. Classic and timeless."
She blinked, and slowly, she lifted the lid.
Her gasp filled the silence.
Inside the box rested the necklace with the pendant I'd been working on since before I got shot. Venus, the goddess of love, carved in gold. Her dress shimmered with shungite and quartz, each stone catching the dim light like trapped stars. A crown of small diamonds circled her head, and golden wings stretched wide behind her, fierce and radiant.
“This,” I said quietly, “is my vision of Venus. Of you.”
She looked up at me, startled, but I went on.
“People think Venus is just about beauty — the perfect face, the soft light, the way she seems to float through the world untouched. But that’s not what she really is. Venus was born from chaos. From foam and storm and pain. She emerged from a sea no one thought could give birth to anything gentle, anything sacred. Every wave that tried to break her, every force that should have swallowed her whole, only shaped her. That’s why she’s powerful — not because she’s untouched, not because she’s flawless, but because she survived what should have drowned her. She carries the storm inside her, and somehow, she still shines.”
I turned the pendant slowly, letting the gold catch the fading light.
“Look at her wings,” I said. “Emerald and gold, like they were carved straight from the heart of the earth. Every feather means freedom, every shimmer strength. She’s not just rising, she’s becoming. And see the chains at her feet? They’re broken because she’s done fighting to be small. She’s done letting anyone decide her worth.”
December reached out, her fingers brushing the pendant, tracing the curve of the wings like she was touching something alive.
“Her dress,” I said quietly, “is made of quartz and shungite. They’re opposites. Quartz heals, and shungite protects. Billy told me they’re your gemstones, and it makes sense. Together they mean balance, light and shadow, strength and softness, all the pieces that make you whole. Because that’s what you are, December. You’re not just the girl who survived. You’re the woman who carries pain and light in the same heart, and still finds a way to shine.”
She looked at me then, eyes wide and trembling, like she was afraid to breathe.
“And the crown,” I whispered, “that’s where I placed the diamonds. Billy said they represent me. They’re a reminder that I’m always with you, and a promise that I’ll keep making you my queen, my goddess, every day you let me.”
She was speechless, looking at me like she is seeing me for the first time.
“This isn’t just a necklace,” I said, my voice low, reverent. “It’s you. It’s exactly how I see you, Ven — gorgeous, timeless, majestic, unbreakable. Every thread of gold, every glint of stone, every spark of light carries your story. My Venus, forged from fire and grace. My December, my queen, my goddess — the woman I love with every beat of my heart and every fragment of my soul.”
For a moment,silence settled between us. Then I fastened the chain around her neck. The pendant lay against her skin like it had always belonged there.
She looked up at me, voice trembling, "Ryder..."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "If I ever made you doubt what you are to me. You are everything, Ven. I love you — always, in every breath."
She looked up at me then, tears slipping silently down her cheeks, but her smile was bright, full of that familiar spark that had saved me more times than I could count.
“I love you too, Ry,” she whispered, a soft laugh trembling through her tears. “Always.”
When she leaned in, our lips met not with urgency, but with a quiet devotion, a love that had weathered everything and promised forever.
Epilogue
My name is December.
I’ve been burned, broken, loved in the dark, and forgotten in the daylight. But I survived. The girl who once begged to be seen has grown wings. I am no longer someone’s secret; I am my own revelation.
Six months ago, I thought the love of my life was going to die in my arms. I thought the universe had given me something beautiful just to tear it away again. But he’s here. He made it. We made it. Somehow, after everything, we’ve built a life that feels like peace.
Billy and Margot have taken us in like family. They call us “the kids,” even though we both know we’re a little too bruised, a little too grown to ever really be kids again. Still, it feels like home, warm and full of laughter that bounces off the walls even when the world outside feels heavy.
Our rabbit, yes, our rabbit, finally has a name. I took forever to decide, pacing the kitchen and staring at him as if he might give me a sign. One morning, sunlight spilled through the window, catching the shine of his soft fur. I knelt down and said, “Nova.” It means new. It felt perfect. This little furball hopping around our feet was more than a pet. He was a reminder of a new life, a fresh beginning, and maybe a little chaos we didn’t mind.
Ryder and I have officially moved in together.Billy built a shelf for my books in the living room. He said a house isn’t a home until someone’s words live in it. He was right. The shelf is uneven, a little crooked on one side, but I love it that way. The books lean into each other like old friends. Sometimes, Margot will stop by and borrow one, always leaving a flower between the pages when she returns it.
Ryder reopened his jewellery shop last month. The sign above the door readsAurum Venus (Golden Venus.)Every time I see it, my chest tightens just a little because I know what it means. I know who it’s for.
Most days ended like this.
