All Chapters of Your Uncle, My True Love: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

James started the engine of his car in the underground parking lot, his heart still racing after the unexpected encounter with Harry. He turned the steering wheel slowly, guiding the car out of the dim space, trying to steady his breath. His mind was spinning — where he should hide, how to divert Harry’s attention, and how to make sure Emma stayed safe in Paris.But as the car merged onto the main road leading out of the airport, something made him slam on the brakes.There, standing in front of the international departure gate — the very spot where they had said goodbye less than an hour ago — was someone who should not have been there.Emma.She stood beneath the drizzle, clutching a small bag to her chest, her eyes scanning the area as if searching for someone. Her light brown hair was damp with rain, her cheeks pale from the cold, yet her gaze was alive — sharp, determined.James couldn’t believe what he was seeing.He glanced at the clock on the dashboard — the flight to Paris sh

The mountain air grew heavier. The mist, once soft and graceful, had turned into a cold curtain pressing against the chests of those who stood among it.James stood firm on the front porch, his body leaning slightly forward like a wolf guarding its territory.Behind him, Emma stood trembling, one hand clutching her rounded belly.Harry stepped closer, each footfall distinct against the damp earth. His eyes burned — a wild mixture of anger, resentment, and wounded pride.“So, this is how it ends,” he said flatly, his tone dripping with mockery. “No wonder you’ve been so busy disappearing, James. Turns out you’ve been playing out your little love drama up here in the mountains — with the woman who used to be my wife.”James said nothing. His breathing was steady, but his eyes held that quiet, sharp calm that made men hesitate to cross him.Harry smirked, taking another step forward. “You know, I’m not even angry that you’re with her. I’m just curious…” He stopped at the low gate, his ga

They sat on the wooden bench out on the porch, gazing at the valley veiled in a thin mist. The mountain air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, soothing their strained thoughts. James looked at Emma beside him — the once fragile woman now appeared stronger, more mature, shaped by all the pain she had survived.“Emma,” he called softly.She turned to him, her eyes still wet but her lips curved into a faint smile.“You were incredible back there,” James said. “I’ve never seen you that strong before. You stood up to the man who once broke you… and you won.”Emma exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the valley ahead. “I don’t feel like I won, James. I just… feel tired of running.”She paused, lowering her head. “There was a time when thinking about Harry only brought pain and regret. But today… when I saw him, all I felt was pity. Maybe… that means I’m finally done.”James smiled faintly. “That means you’re free.”Emma looked at him, a soft gleam in her eyes that words couldn’t describ

The London air that evening was cold, but Sophie hardly felt it. Inside her spacious studio, sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows, illuminating the piles of fabric and sketches scattered across her desk. She was deep in work, piecing together ideas for the fashion show she had just been invited to. Her fingers moved deftly across the paper, her face glowing with a kind of energy she hadn’t felt in a long time.In recent months, Sophie’s name had been buried under whispers — rumors that she copied Emma. People accused her of mimicking Emma’s style, her signature cuts, even her color palettes. The accusations stung, and though Sophie had been furious, she was also afraid — afraid that maybe they were right. But today, that fear had transformed into something else entirely: determination.“I won’t be anyone’s shadow ever again,” she said quietly, her voice firm.She looked at the sketch before her — a gown with a strong, elongated silhouette, trimmed with metallic details alo

The days that followed seemed to pass faster than usual.Ever since receiving the official invitation, Emma had found it hard to sleep. In her small, warm studio in Switzerland, she spent night after night at her design table, staring at her new sketches with a mixture of nerves and excitement.Sheets of paper lay scattered across the floor — dress cuttings, delicate lace, and soft shades reminiscent of morning dew.The theme she had chosen, Nature Reborn, was not just a reflection of the world she was creating for her baby, but also of her own rebirth.She wanted to present something pure, calm, and full of life.From the doorway, James often watched her quietly.He knew Emma was once again swept up in that current of passion that had made her shine years ago. Yet something about her had changed: her designs no longer radiated cold perfection, but warmth and meaning.One evening, as light snow fell outside the window, James walked over and set a cup of hot chocolate on her desk.“You