He Canceled My Ticket for Her Again, So I Bought My Way Home Chapter 07

He Canceled My Ticket for Her Again, So I Bought My Way Home Chapter 07

The moment I stepped out of the airport terminal, I spotted my parents waiting near baggage claim.

“Clara! Over here!”

Both of them waved enthusiastically, as if they were afraid I’d somehow miss them.

My eyes instantly burned with tears.

Dropping my suitcase, I hurried toward them and threw my arms around them.

“Mom, Dad, I missed you so much.”

My mother’s voice trembled as she hugged me tightly.

“We missed you too, sweetheart. You’re finally home.”

Even my father, a six-foot-three giant who rarely showed emotion, had red-rimmed eyes.

“You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

None of us wanted to let go.

After a long while, Dad finally cleared his throat.

“Come on. Let’s get you home. Your mom and I have a surprise for you.”

The second we arrived at the house, Mom covered my eyes.

“No peeking.”

I laughed despite myself.

A moment later, I heard the front door open.

Then a soft scent drifted toward me.

Cedarwood. Sage. Warm, earthy notes that felt comforting and familiar.

My heart skipped.

Mom removed the blindfold.

I froze.

The old art studio I had once filled with canvases and easels had been completely transformed.

In its place stood a beautiful boutique fragrance workshop.

An entire wall displayed rows of glass droppers, premium essential oils, and handcrafted perfume ingredients. A polished wooden workbench held professional blending equipment, copper distillation tools, and everything needed to create artisanal fragrances.

For a moment, I couldn’t even speak.

“This is…”

Mom wrapped her arms around me from behind and rested her chin on my shoulder.

“You used to talk about this all the time,” she said softly. “You always dreamed of creating your own natural fragrances and opening a handcrafted perfume studio. So your father and I decided to

help make that dream come true.”

Dad stood nearby, smiling proudly.

“This old property is big enough for anything you want to do. You’ve got room to build your future

here.”

His voice thickened with emotion.

“So stay. Create. Chase whatever makes you happy. And remember, no matter what happens, your

mother and I have your back.”

That was all it took.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over.

I turned and buried myself in Mom’s arms.

Over the following months, I poured every ounce of my energy into the little world my parents had

created for me.

I went back to studying fragrance formulation, botanical extraction, and natural perfumery.

I visited local farms, forests, and herb gardens, searching for regional plants and unique aromatic

ingredients.

Sometimes I drove to neighboring towns to learn traditional perfume-making techniques from

experienced artisans.

Through it all, my parents never interfered.

They simply supported me quietly from the sidelines.

Whenever I stayed up late testing fragrance formulas, Mom would leave a mug of warm oat milk beside my workstation.

When I scraped my hands searching through the woods for rare pine resin, Dad would silently drive to the pharmacy, buy the best ointment he could find, and awkwardly help bandage my hands.

Neither of them ever mentioned Julian.

They never brought up my marriage.

Never mentioned the divorce.

It was as if I’d simply been away for a long trip and had finally returned to the place where I belonged.

Life in our small town moved at a peaceful pace.

Thanks to my unique all-natural fragrance blends, my boutique perfume studio gradually gained attention at local markets and community events.

Soon, independent boutiques and wedding planners started placing custom orders.

For the first time in years, my days were filled with quiet happiness.

Then one afternoon, a familiar black luxury sedan pulled into the driveway.

My smile faded.

The driver’s door opened.

Julian stepped out.

I hadn’t seen him in months.

He looked like an entirely different man.

He had lost a shocking amount of weight. His expensive tailored suit hung loosely from his frame.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and unshaven stubble covered his jaw.

The moment he saw me, he stopped walking.

His eyes reddened instantly.

“Clara.”

I didn’t answer.

i simply turned away and continued organizing the ingredients on my workbench.

He remained standing behind me.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

So much time passed that I began to think he might stay there forever.

Finally, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice trembled.

“Clara… I was wrong.’