Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love: Bab 21 - Bab 30

She dressed slowly that morning.Not because she didn’t know what to wear—but because every movement felt weighted, deliberate, as if she rushed, the courage might slip through her fingers.The bedroom was quiet. Too quiet. Sunlight crept through the curtains in thin, uncertain lines, touching the edge of the bed, the chair where her coat waited, the mirror she’d been avoiding.She stood in front of it anyway.The woman looking back at her was composed. Calm, even. Hair brushed smooth. Clothes chosen carefully—not too sharp, not too soft. Neutral. Safe.But her eyes betrayed her.Twelve years lived inside them.She pressed her palms against the dresser, inhaled. Exhaled. Again.“You can do this,” she whispered, though the words sounded like they belonged to someone else.From the hallway, she heard Chris moving. The quiet clink of keys. The low hum of his voice as he answered a call and ended it just as quickly.He didn’t rush her.He never did.When she stepped out, he looked up.And

Mia didn’t answer right away. The question—Can you wait till your babies are born?—sat heavy in her chest, pressing against ribs that already felt too full. She stared at her hands. At the faint tremor she hadn’t been able to control since the hospital. At the thin silver ring she still wore out of habit more than meaning. Waiting had never been her strength. She’d always moved. Forward. Away. Through. Her grandmother didn’t rush her. Just reached over and rubbed slow circles on the back of Mia’s hand, like she used to when Mia was a child and nightmares came too fast to explain. Chris shifted in the corner of the room. Once. Stopped. He didn’t speak. He never did when it mattered most. Mia inhaled. The house smelled the same—old books, lemon polish, something warm and familiar simmering somewhere deep in memory. It felt unfair that the world could stay so intact while she’d splintered and stitched herself back together in secret. “Yes,” she said finally. The word surprised e

Chris came back the next morning before the sun had fully committed to the sky. The light in the apartment was pale, diffused, brushing the walls with uncertainty, as if the day itself didn’t know whether to start or stay asleep. The apartment smelled faintly of the night before—coffee, the lingering antiseptic from Mia’s hospital stay, and the subtle, almost imperceptible scent of her. He paused at the doorway, hands in his pockets, surveying the stillness that spoke louder than words ever could. Mia was on the couch, curled under the throw blanket she’d dragged there in the night. She had slept in fits, though not deeply; her body had rested, but her mind had kept moving. Waiting, counting, worrying. Chris didn’t move immediately. He let the silence stretch, letting her presence fill the room before he spoke. “You’re back,” Mia said softly, her voice still rough with disuse. “Yes,” he replied, simple, clipped. She straightened, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. “I…

The CEO's office still smelled the same.Leather and coffee. Paper that had been handled too many times to pretend it was new.Mia noticed it the moment she stepped inside, like her body remembered things her mind hadn’t catalogued yet. The walls were glass on two sides, overlooking the city she’d just been reintroduced to. Morning light slanted in, catching dust in the air, turning it into something almost beautiful.Chris closed the door behind them.The click echoed louder than it should have.“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the couch instead of the chair behind his desk.Not commanding, but considerate.Mia sat carefully, lowering herself like she was still negotiating with gravity. Grandpa Morris took the armchair opposite her, settling in with the quiet authority of a man who had earned every inch of space he occupied.Chris didn’t sit right away.He walked behind his desk, loosened his tie, then paused—hands braced on the wood, head dipped briefly, like he was collecting himse

Two days later, Chris arrived at Morris Group, just as the morning light fell pale through the glass façade. The building buzzed quietly with early activity—phones ringing, printers humming—but nothing compared to the quiet tension he carried with him.Mia looked up from the table, papers and reports spread in front of her. She hadn’t expected him so soon.“Iris,” he said, voice calm, almost casual, though the sharpness underneath made her stomach tighten.“Chris,” she replied, lifting her head. Her fingers lingered on a report as she gestured toward a chair. “You’re early.”He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. “Not early. Just on schedule. I’ve been… doing some research on Hale Tower.”She blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Research?”“Yes,” he said, eyes steady on hers."On what?"“Hale Tower. I wanted to understand the structure. The finances. How Allen is running it. Even a rough overview helps us plan.”Mia frowned, leaning forward. “You… went throu