"I'm giving you one more chance, Mr. Thorne." I held his gaze.
"Thank you, Anthea." His lips trembled, voice deep and sincere. "I swear, no more forcing you. I'll learn to respect you, love you right. I love you, Anthea."
"I love you too, Silas," I said softly.
His eyes glistened—first time I'd seen him cry. He pulled me into a fierce hug.
"You're crazy," I tried pushing back. "Your wound'll tear."
"Let it." His voice muffled in my shoulder. "Anthea, I love you. Never loved anyone else, just you. Thought I'd lost you forever, thought I'd never hear you say it."
Tears hit me too. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Don't make me regret it," I said.
"I won't." He tightened his hold. "This time, no regrets."
On the cot, Olei stirred, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He saw us hugging.
"Did Mommy and Daddy make up?" he asked, thrilled.
We turned to him, then smiled at each other.
"Yeah, we did," Silas said with a grin.
Olei hopped down, ran over, and squeezed into our hug. Suddenly, the disinfectant smell didn't bother me.
The road had been brutal—misunderstandings, pain, terror of losing each other. But we made it.
A month later,Silas's wound healed completely.
To celebrate, we cooked a feast at home. Silas insisted on being the head chef.
He set the table romantic and cozy—tall candlesticks in the center, flames flickering softly. Fresh white lilies sat in a crystal vase, petals unfurling.
Dishes came out one by one. Seared foie gras, slow-roasted steak, post-dinner sweets. The aromas wrapped around us thick.
Olei sat beside me, face lit with anticipation. He ate quietly as usual, but kept sneaking glances at his dad, lips twitching up. Silas ignored him, eyes locked on me.
I felt off, gaze bouncing between them. Were these two up to something? But dinner passed without incident. I shrugged it off, savoring the meal. Every bite hit perfect—not too done, not too raw.
Dessert was caramel pudding, the top golden-crisp. Silas set minedown, gave Olei his. Instead of sitting, he dropped to one knee in front of me.
I froze—this I hadn't seen coming. My pulse raced.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it. My brain blanked.
Inside, a ring. Platinum band, simple and elegant, topped with a teardrop amber diamond. It sparkled under the light, like it'd trapped a whole sunset.
God, it was stunning—like a work of art.
"Anthea Carter," Silas said, voice thick with emotion. "Six years ago, I was an asshole. I hurt you, lost you. Those years were my darkest. Months ago, fate gave me another shot. You came back. I swear I'll cherish it, never let you suffer again. I know I've got flaws. But I'll learn to be a good husband, good father."
His eyes held mine, brimming with tenderness. My nose stung, eyes heating.
He took my hand. "Anthea, will you marry me?"
The candle flames flickered, like the air held its breath.
