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Chapter 9 - The Home I Chose

A year later, I moved out of the mansion where Isabel had locked me away.

Matthew never asked me to live with him.

That mattered.

He didn't assume.

He waited.

So one Sunday morning, I arrived at his house with two suitcases.

He stared.

“What are you doing?”

“Moving in.”

He blinked.

“You're serious.”

“Yes.”

He smiled.

“That's terrifying.”

“You're welcome.”

We laughed.

My father was recovering.

My mother was learning how to live without hiding.

They visited often.

Sometimes they argued.

Sometimes they cried.

Sometimes they sat in silence.

But they were together.

One evening, my father gave me a box.

Inside was my mother's wedding ring.

“I kept this for you.”

I touched it.

“Why?”

“Because your mother always said you should have something that belonged to you before Isabel entered our lives.”

I looked at Matthew.

He saw the ring.

A week later, he proposed.

Not at a gala.

Not in a ballroom.

Not with cameras.

He took me to the road where I had first climbed into his car.

The same road.

Different weather.

No rain.

He stood beside the vehicle.

“I remember you blocking my car.”

I laughed.

“I was desperate.”

“You were reckless.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know.”

He took out a ring.

“There's something I've wanted to ask since that night.”

“What?”

“Will you stop running?”

I smiled.

“From you?”

“From everyone.”

I stepped closer.

“I don't want to run anymore.”

He knelt.

“Then stay.”

I cried.

“Yes.”

We married six months later.

My mother walked me down the aisle.

My father stood beside her.

Matthew waited at the end.

No secrets.

No deals.

No contracts.

Only love.

After the ceremony, I caught myself looking toward the doorway.

I remembered the old bedroom.

The locked door.

The necklace.

The rain.

The bathroom window.

The stranger's car.

The man who had opened the door.

Matthew caught my hand.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You're thinking about that night.”

“Yes.”

“What do you remember most?”

I looked at him.

“The coat.”

He smiled.

“The coat?”

“You gave it to me before you even knew my name.”

He squeezed my hand.

“I knew enough.”

May you like

“What?”

“That you needed somewhere safe.”

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