Page 15 of A Virgo's Muse
Present
Peace.
It wasn’t something I was used to, especially not the kind you could feel humming through your bones when you woke up, stretching under sunlight and hearing birds instead of anxiety. Onyx brought it with him. Every time he showed up, I breathed a little deeper.
He didn’t go more than two days without showing up with fresh flowers—tulips, lilies, hydrangeas, sometimes a mix. They were always chosen with intention.
“My Desiresdeserves to bloom,” he said one morning, setting a bouquet on the front counter of my studio. His lips brushed my temple before walking out like it wasn’t the smoothest thing I’d ever heard.
He’d been applying pressure in ways I didn’t know how to resist. Not just with his presence, but with his consistency. Hedid it with his care and the way he poured into me like he had no fear of running dry. The morning after he held me, I woke up to a flood of notifications—mortgage paid in full and over $30,000 deposited into my account. When I walked into my studio for the first time since, it looked like a damn art supply dreamscape. I had new canvases, fresh paints, upgraded brushes and tools. He hadn’t just gifted me materials; he restored the sanctuary I’d built with my own two hands, the one I thought I was losing. I cried again that day but for a different reason.
And when I called him, overwhelmed and choked up, all he said was, “Told you I got it. You just focus on your parents. I want your hands back in the paint, not tied behind your back trying to fix everything alone.”
I did exactly that. With the weight off my shoulders, the paint started flowing again. My work shifted… evolved. I couldn’t stop painting him, or more accurately, the contradiction that was Onyx—the calm in his touch, the violence simmering just behind his eyes, the rare softness I caught when he looked at me like I was more than just some beautiful woman in a messy world. He called it obsession. I called it inspiration.
We had date nights. We took long drives where the city lights blurred behind the windshield and my laugh echoed in the car like music. There were nights where we stayed in, tangled on my couch with wine, laughter, and stolen kisses between sips. He’d press his nose into my neck and tell me I smelled like peace.
One night, he leaned over my shoulder while I painted and whispered, “Every time you pick up a brush, I swear I see a little more of your fire come back.”
And it was true. Being with him didn’t dull me. It amplified me.
But even with all that… I still knew something was under the surface with him, something he hadn’t told me.
There were shadows in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking and little silences when certain topics came up. His past lingered like smoke… visible, thick, but never fully explained.
Still, I didn’t press. Not yet. Because whatever secrets he carried, I knew one thing for certain: Onyx showed up for me in ways that no one else ever had. And I was starting to believe he wouldn’t stop until he could call me his.
Onyx told me it was date night and to be ready. I looked down at the mess of my closet. It had exploded into my bedroom. Dresses were everywhere. Hangers dangled off the edge of the bed. My phone was wedged between my shoulder and ear. Sade’s voice ran wild in my ear like she was right there with me.
“Girl, you act like this is prom night,” she teased. “It’s a date, not the Met Gala.”
“It’s not just a date,” I said, tossing another dress onto thenopile. “It’s Onyx.”
“Ohhh,” she drawled. “So you trying to be unforgettable tonight, huh?”
“I’m trying not to overthink it.”
“Too late. You’re a Virgo, baby. You were born to overthink.” She laughed at herself.
I paused in front of the mirror, holding up a navy green dress that Sade had sworn by. The fabric had the softest sheen under the light, its draped plunge neckline falling just right, the back completely exposed.
“That’s the one,” she said before I even spoke. “Trust me.”
“Okay. Navy green it is.”
I slipped into the dress, pairing it with black red bottoms and delicate gold earrings. My hair was pulled into an up-do, sleek with just two curled tendrils framing my face. My makeup was soft and dewy with light foundation, lip liner, and gloss. It was simple, classic me. By the time I was spritzing on my perfume, the knock came.
“Alright, boo,” Sade said. “Remember, do everything I would do and then some.”
I laughed. “I hate you.”
“You love me. Bye!”
I hung up just as I made my way to the front door. When I opened it, the air shifted.
There he was—tall, dark, and effortless. He had a fresh cut. His beard was lined like a damn painting. That gold chain around his neck glinted under the porch light. His shirt hugged just enough of him to make me bite my lip. His tattoos peeked out from the collar and sleeves like they had secrets of their own.
His eyes scanned me, slow and reverent. “Damn…”
