The final question.
The belief that somehow, despite everything, she still belonged to him.
Grace gave a small smile. Barely a curve of her lips.
“You think I love you?” she asked, her voice tender.
Andrew nodded, tears welling in his eyes. His fingers tightened weakly around hers.
She leaned in, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath.
“The night I saw you whispering to her — that first one — my love for you died,” she said softly. “But I stayed. For Lily and Chloe. So they could grow up with a father. So they wouldn’t carry shame for your choices.”
Andrew’s lips parted, but no words came. His eyes searched hers, desperate. Regret flooded his face.
“I’ll tell them you were a good man,” she continued. “That you loved them, that you tried your best. Because they deserve to remember you that way. Not as what you were to me.”
He blinked rapidly, tears streaming down his temples into the pillow. His breathing grew ragged, his mouth trembling.
She gently wiped his face with a warm cloth, then tucked the blanket closer to his chest.
“Rest now,” she said quietly. “It’s over.”
Andrew stared up at the ceiling, the weight of everything he’d taken for granted finally crushing down on him. The woman he thought would never leave… had already walked away years ago. Not with her feet, but with her heart.
