Semua Bab Too late to want me back.: Bab 61 - Bab 70

Amelia's POVFor most of my adult life, someone else's name came before mine.Ryan's wife.Mrs. Carter.The woman who lost three babies.The artist.Lucas's childhood friend.No matter where I went, someone always introduced me through another person.I couldn't remember the last time I had simply been Amelia.Not someone's responsibility.Not someone's regret.Not someone's future.Just me.Maybe that was why I knew what I had to do next.Not because I wanted to run away.But because I needed to meet the woman I'd become.Without either man standing beside me.---"I want to move out."The words left my mouth quietly over breakfast.Ryan looked up from his coffee.He didn't seem shocked.Only... sad."For good?"I shook my head."I don't know.""I just need time."He stared into his cup for a long moment before nodding."If that's what you need...""It is."He gave a small smile."Then I'll help you pack."I blinked."You'll help me?""If I love you..."He said softly."I have to sto

Ryan's POVThere was a time when I thought love was a competition.If someone loved Amelia...Then they automatically became my enemy.If someone made her smile…I wondered what I had done wrong.If someone stood beside her...I felt the need to stand closer.That version of me no longer existed.Not because I had stopped loving her.But because I had finally understood something I should have learned years ago.Love isn't ownership. It never was.---Saturday morning began with an unexpected phone call.I was halfway through reviewing contracts when my phone vibrated.It was Martha."Ryan?""Morning.""I was cleaning the guest room.""Mm-hmm?""I found something that belongs to Amelia.""What is it?""Her old sketchbook."I frowned."The blue one?""Yes.""She searched everywhere for it before moving."I remembered.She had looked through every cupboard in the house.She'd even apologized to Martha for making such a mess."I'll take it to her."I said."Thank you."After ending the c

Amelia's POVPeople often imagine healing as a single moment.One conversation, one decision, you could just wake up one morning and everything that hurts you feel less.That wasn't how it happened for me.My healing began quietly; inside ordinary days, morning walks, fresh paints on canvas.My coffee brewed just the way I liked it. Conversations didn't drain me anymore. My laughter was more real, and less forced. My healing arrived quietly.Before I realized it I had stopped surviving.I had started living.---Six months had passed.Six peaceful, ordinary, beautiful months.The seasons changed without me noticing.The flowers outside my apartment bloomed and faded.The little plant Lucas had given me was no longer struggling to survive.Unlike its owner, it had finally learned to trust me.I laughed every time I looked at it.Life had become wonderfully predictable.Every morning, I opened my windows to the smell of fresh bread coming up from the bakery below.Every Wednesday, I vi

Amelia's POVThere was a time when I thought love always came with urgency.Choose me. Fight for me. Prove yourself. Don't leave me. Stay.Maybe that was because every love story I'd ever known had been built around fear.Fear of losing someone. Fear of being forgotten.Fear of ending up alone.But somewhere along the way; love began teaching me a different language.One without deadlines. One without ultimatums.One without pressure.And the person teaching me never even realized he was doing it.---My solo exhibition was only three weeks away.The gallery buzzed with activity every day.Workers painted walls. Electricians adjusted lighting. Frames arrived one after another.Grace walked around carrying a clipboard, somehow managing to organize complete chaos without ever looking stressed."You've officially become impossible to schedule."She teased one afternoon.I laughed."I'll take that as a compliment.""You should."She pointed toward a stack of unopened boxes."Those need to

Amelia's POVThere was a time when I couldn't walk past the baby section in a store.Tiny shoes. Little blankets.The soft sound of newborn laughter.They all felt like reminders of everything I had lost.I used to believe grief would always speak louder than hope.That every pregnant woman I saw would remind me of the babies I never got to hold.That every child would reopen wounds that had never truly healed.But healing is strange.It doesn't erase your scars.It simply teaches you that your scars don't have to define every tomorrow.The greatest proof that you've healed isn't that you stop crying.It's that you can help someone else through the tears you once couldn't survive yourself.---Saturday mornings had become my favorite part of the week.The children's art charity buzzed with life before I even arrived.Bright paintings covered the walls.Tables overflowed with crayons, colored pencils, and jars of paint.Tiny handprints decorated one corner of the room.The building alw