Chapter 22
But as the rain faded and Troy held me close, I realized that not all second chances were mistakes. Some were quiet salvations-redemptions not for the world to see, but for the soul to
feel.
Troy didn’t speak empty promises that night. He simply whispered, “I will never ruin this. Never ruin you.” And I believed him-not because I was desperate to, but because he said it like a man who had learned to value what most people throw away.
So we began again. Not just in love, but in everything.
We started planning the wedding-not the grand society circus I once imagined as a girl, but something small. Quiet. Intimate. No tabloids. No gilded invitations for strangers who only wanted to whisper gossip behind silk fans. Just people who mattered. People who saw me when I was broken and still stayed.
Lucas offered his garden. A place filled with old trees and soft light. I said yes the moment I stepped into it.
Troy handled the logistics. I picked the dress-simple satin, no veil. Just me.
The vows we wrote ourselves.
Each day leading up to it, we laughed more. Cried, too-sometimes in joy, sometimes from nemories that still stung at the edges. But there was peace in healing together.
n the middle of the chaos, I opened my gallery.
My gallery.
t sat in the heart of the city, tucked between old bookstores and forgotten corners. A place that elt untouched by the poison of my past. Every wall bore my story-each canvas, each brushstroke, bled with pieces of me.
And people came.
They stayed.
They saw.
t was the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere without apology.
One afternoon, I was adjusting a painting when the bell above the gallery door chimed. I turned without much thought-and froze.
Gregory. He stood there, dressed in his usual tailored suit, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
Our eyes met.
I didn’t move. Neither did he.
He walked through the gallery slowly, pausing at the painting of a single, burning rose. It had been the first piece I painted after leaving Kevin.
Gregory stared at it for a long while, then glanced at me again.
I didn’t speak.
I only nodded once.
He gave the smallest nod in return.
Then he left.
That was enough.
No forgiveness. No apologies. Just… recognition. And somehow, it was all I needed.
The wedding came on a day painted in gold. The sky was clear, the air warm, and the wind smelled of jasmine and sun-dried wood.
stood beneath the arbor, fingers trembling-not with fear, but with the weight of a long roa inally ending.
roy waited for me with that same calm gaze, the one that never demanded, only offered.
le smiled the moment he saw me.
ucas stood beside me. He didn’t walk me down the aisle; I walked myself. Because I hac urvived. I had crawled through fire and lies and betrayal and still stood tall enough to say, I do.
When Troy took my hand, everything else disappeared.
The words we said were quiet. Honest.
I promise to build something new,” he whispered, “not out of your pain-but from your strength.”
ears slid down my cheeks, but I smiled through them.
I promise to let myself be loved again,” I told him, “and to love you not out of need-but choice.”
The world around us faded-no ghosts, no shadows.
lust two people. Choosing.
After the ceremony, we didn’t dance in a ballroom.
We walked barefoot in the grass, holding champagne and laughing like children. There were no ireworks. Just soft fairy lights in trees and the sound of people who truly cared clinking glasses and toasting our joy.
looked around and realized-this was the family I chose. Not born of blood, but built by love.
And when Troy leaned in to kiss me again, I knew this wasn’t a new beginning.
t was a continuation.
Of healing. Of life. Of finally, finally being free.
