All Chapters of Second Choice: Wife by contract: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Airports always feel slightly unreal to me.Not sad exactly. Just… suspended. Everyone moving somewhere, leaving something, arriving somewhere else. Conversations half finished. Goodbyes happening in quiet corners while announcements echo overhead like reminders that time is moving whether you’re ready or not.I’m standing by the gate window watching planes crawl across the runway when Ethan shifts beside me.Morning light is just starting to spread across the sky. London looks pale and sleepy from up here.Neither of us has said much for the past few minutes.Not because something’s wrong. It’s more like we already said the important things yesterday. Now we’re just waiting for the part where we separate again.“Text me when you land,” he says.“I always do.”“I know.”I turn slightly toward him. He looks like he didn’t sleep much. His hair is a little messy, the way it gets when he keeps running his hands through it while thinking.“You look serious,” I tell him.“I’m not serious.”

The café feels different tonight. Not quieter. If anything, the opposite. There’s noise everywhere. Voices layered over each other, chairs shifting, cups clinking, someone laughing too loudly near the pastry case. But it’s a good kind of noise. Alive. I stand near the entrance for a moment longer than I should, just watching the room. The new library section stretches across the back wall now. Actual shelves, filled with books instead of dust and half-installed wood panels. Lamps glowing softly between them. The window seats already claimed by people who look like they’ve always belonged there. A little girl in the corner runs her finger along a shelf spine like she’s memorizing titles. Someone takes a photo of the reading nook with their phone. It still feels a little unreal. For months it was just sketches. Measurements scribbled on scrap paper. Contractors arguing about wiring and shelves that hadn’t even arrived yet. Now people are sitting inside it. Reading. Talking. Exis

The café is finally quiet.Not the kind of quiet that feels empty. Just the end-of-day quiet. Lamps glowing softly over the reading corner. A faint smell of coffee still hanging in the air. Chairs half stacked. Books slightly out of place because customers always put them back wrong.I’m behind the counter wiping a perfectly clean surface.Which is code for: I don’t want to think about my phone.Across the room Luca is crouched near the new shelves with a measuring tape, staring at them like they might shift if he looks away for too long.“You’re measuring that again?” I ask.He glances up without standing.“Precision matters.”“You’ve checked it three times already.”“Four.”“Obsessive.”“Professional.”I shake my head and keep wiping the same spot on the counter.Then the door swings open.Mara walks in like the building belongs to her.She stops halfway into the café and points directly at Luca.“Oh good,” she says. “You’re still here.”Luca straightens slowly.That look on his fac

The café feels different once everyone leaves.Not empty exactly. Just… settled. The lamps over the reading corner are still on, casting warm circles of light over the shelves. A forgotten book sits open on one table, pages still glowing faintly under the lamp. Somewhere behind the counter the refrigerator hums steadily. The air smells faintly like coffee grounds and cinnamon.I’m stacking cups that don’t really need stacking.Ethan is near the shelves again, running his fingers along the wood like he did earlier. Slow, distracted movements. Like he’s thinking about something that hasn’t fully formed yet.“You’re going to wear that shelf down if you keep doing that,” I say.He glances over.“I’m appreciating the craftsmanship.”“You’re stalling.”He smiles a little.“Maybe.”I rinse another cup, dry it, put it back in the same place it came from. My hands keep moving because stopping would mean acknowledging the conversation waiting between us.Eventually Ethan pulls out one of the ch

Morning arrives quietly.No alarms. No rush. Just sunlight creeping across the bedroom floor and the soft sound of Sunny shifting on the rug beside the bed.For a few seconds I stay where I am, staring at the ceiling, letting the day gather itself around me.Then it clicks back into place.London.The dinner.Ethan’s father.Sunny lifts his head and looks at me like he’s waiting for instructions.“Don’t start,” I mutter.His tail taps once against the floor.I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit there for a moment longer than necessary. The room feels normal. Too normal. The quiet kind of morning where nothing dramatic is happening and yet the entire day already feels decided.Sunny walks over and nudges my knee.“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “You’re right. We should start the day before it starts us.”The suitcase sits on the floor where I left it last night.Half packed. A few sweaters folded neatly inside, like I was trying to convince myself this trip is just another trip.Sunny