On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 19

On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 19

“The day my father died,” I said, my voice flat and even, “was the day any future between us died too.”

Ethan stood frozen.

Then, slowly, he let out a laugh.

Not the cold, mocking laugh I’d heard from him before.

This one was bitter.

Broken.

Like a gambler who’d finally laid down his last card and lost.

“I understand.” His voice scraped out of his throat.

“I won’t bother you again, Stella.”

He turned.

His steps were slow, heavy.

He didn’t look back.

I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the light at the end of the corridor.

No relief flooded through me.

No sadness either.

Just a quiet, weightless stillness.

Like turning the final page of a book you’ve been reading for far too long.

—

Five years later.

Paris.

I sat with Mila by the Seine, wine in hand.

Five years had sharpened her into something formidable—a powerhouse attorney with a reputation that preceded her.

As for me, I’d rebuilt my photography studio from the ground up.

Snow-capped peaks.

Deserts.

Glaciers.

My work had won awards I’d once only dreamed of.

I was in Paris for an international exhibition.

Mila nudged my shoulder, her eyes glinting with gossip.

“So. Have you heard anything about Ethan?”

I shook my head.

“No.” And I meant it.

“His career tanked after everything went down. Maren’s conviction destroyed her, but her parents keep dragging him into lawsuits. He had to leave his position. Now he’s stuck in some small-town practice.” She paused.

—

“I heard he’s still single.”

I took a sip of wine and said nothing.

Mila studied my face for a long moment, and whatever she was looking for, she must not have found it, because she finally let the subject drop.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

The door opened, and a familiar figure stepped out.

“Stella!” Liam Lucas waved at me, his face breaking into that same grin I remembered.

Five years had sharpened him too.

The boyish recklessness had settled into something steadier.

Still young.

Still impossibly energetic.

But calmer now.

More grounded.

“You’re going to be late for the ceremony,” he called.

I laughed and smoothed down my dress.

“Coming.”

Mila looked between us, her grin widening.

“So. Five years of chasing. Has this Mr. Lucas finally gotten off the

—

waiting list?”

Liam’s gaze flicked toward me, bright and expectant.

I paused, pretending to consider it.

Then I smiled.

“He’s still on the list. I’ve got a very long line, you know.”

Liam groaned.

Mila burst out laughing, doubled over the railing.

And I walked forward into the Paris evening.

The city glowed gold and soft, the Seine glittering with a thousand shattered reflections.

The road ahead stretched wide and open.

This time—finally—I was living as the person I’d always wanted to be.

—

I reached Liam and he offered me his arm with exaggerated formality.

“Madam. Your chariot awaits.”

I took it, laughing.

“You know, for someone who’s been on a waiting list for five years, you’re remarkably patient.”

He glanced down at me, his eyes warm.

“Some things are worth waiting for.”

Mila caught up to us, still grinning. “You two are disgustingly adorable. I think I need another glass of wine just to survive this.”

The three of us walked along the Seine, the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance.

I looked up at the stars beginning to emerge over Paris, and I thought about how far I’d come.

From a woman who had nothing.

Who had lost everything—her father, her child, her marriage, her sense of self.

To this.

A woman with a career she loved. A mother who was alive and well. Friends who would fly across the world for her. And a man who had waited five years without demanding anything in return.

I didn’t know what the future held. But for the first time, that didn’t scare me.

Because I knew, no matter what came next, I’d be okay.

I was finally home.