The stillness wasn't suffocating anymore—just quiet. Honest.
Chloe's words lingered between them like something fragile and holy:
"I'm not worthy of you, Kian."
Kian didn't move. Didn't flinch.
He just watched her—no pity, no pity ever—only something fiercely grounded behind his gaze.
Then he stepped forward, slowly.
"You think you're the unworthy one?" he said quietly.
"Chloe… I've spent years thinking I was the one who lost what I never deserved."
She didn't respond, but he saw the subtle shift in her posture. She was listening—even if her arms stayed crossed, even if her eyes wandered toward the sky.
"I didn't tell you the truth when I should've. I broke the one thing you held sacred. And when you walked away, I thought… maybe that's all I deserved."
His voice softened, not uncertain—just real.
"But that's why I'm here now. Because I never stopped choosing you. Not even once."
Chloe's gaze flickered, unsure, caught between belief and disbelief.
Kian swallowed, then added, more certain now—more grounded.
"And I love Carter."
Her breath hitched.
He took another step, not forcing it, just… present.
"God knows I do. That boy looks at me like I matter. He makes me laugh, and he carries your fire. He asks questions like you. And when he walks into a room, the world bends for him—just like it always used to for you."
Chloe closed her eyes briefly, the weight of those words settling like warmth across her chest.
Kian kept going.
"But I'm also here because I still want you. Not just the memory. Not the girl who left. Not the one who spiraled. I want the woman who fought her way back. The one who raised a son. The one who learned how to live without anyone—and still showed up with her heart intact."
The wind picked up lightly. The blue tulips in the garden shifted gently, like they, too, were listening.
Chloe turned her head slightly—just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.
"You're still a bachelor, Kian. I'm divorced. With a child. My life isn't exactly…"
"Simple?" he offered softly.
She gave a tired smile.
"Yeah. Not simple."
Kian nodded. Then, carefully—quietly—he said,
"You say you're not the same Chloe I had. But maybe that's a good thing."
She blinked, startled.
"Because I'm not supposed to love the girl who left."
His voice didn't waver.
"I'm here to love the woman who stayed."
Chloe didn't say anything.
She just looked at him—really looked at him.
And for a single, stretched moment, she didn't feel like the girl who ran.
Or the woman who had to survive.
She just felt seen.
And maybe that was what she needed more than anything.