The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 32

The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 32

On the day the exhibition opened, the crowd was substantial.

Christian came too.

He stood in front of that white dress. For a very long time.

I didn’t walk over.

Grant stood beside me and handed me a cup of warm water.

“Nervous?”

“Not nervous.”

“Then why do you keep looking over there?”

I pulled my gaze back.

“Just checking. To make sure it really doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Grant didn’t say anything.

He just tapped his cup very gently against mine.

Like a silent celebration.

When the exhibition was nearly over, Christian finally walked up to me.

He was even more subdued than before.

And he looked more like the man I had first met three years ago.

Refined. Restrained. Still striking, even standing in a crowd.

But I looked at him, and my heart no longer beat faster.

He said, “Claire. I’ve seen everything.”

I nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

He smiled bitterly.

“With me now, all you have left is polite courtesy.”

I didn’t deny it.

He looked toward the center of the exhibition hall, at Belated.

“That line of hidden stitches. I didn’t know about it before.”

“No.”

“If I had known sooner…”

I cut him off.

“Christian. No more ‘ifs.'”

He closed his eyes for a second.

“Alright.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

Not jewelry.

It was an old clasp.

I recognized it.

It was the hidden back clasp from Belated. The one that had been cut off.

I had assumed it was long gone.

Christian said, “Bianca’s assistant found it while clearing things out. She gave it to me. I thought it should be returned to you.”

I took it.

The clasp was so light in my palm, but it felt like the last remnant of a particular chapter of my past.

Christian looked at me.

“Claire. I’ve thought about this so many times since. If I hadn’t taken that dress that day… would you still be standing beside me right now.”

I looked at him and said, calmly, “Christian. It wasn’t the dress you took that day.”

“It was the last shred of faith I had that you would ever choose me.”

His eyes slowly reddened.

This time, he didn’t plead with me.

He just lowered his head and said, “I’m sorry.”