His eyes locked with mine, shimmering with hope, guilt, and unwavering devotion. He straightened, lingering for a heartbeat as if memorizing the sight of me, before stepping back. Without another word, he walked away, his footsteps fading down the path.
I stood frozen on the doorstep, then I entered the house and let the door click softly behind me, the quiet almost dizzying after the whirlwind of the past days. I went straight to the shower, letting the warm water sluice away the tension, the sweat, the nerves. Steam curled around me like a protective veil. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift to Aaron—his gestures of love, the small and grand ones alike: the way he always knew when to hold me when I was crying, how he lifted me up in moments of joy, how his lips found mine when I was frustrated, when the world felt too heavy. Our history stretched back in threads of laughter, tears, tenderness, and passion. Love in all its beauty... until it wasn't.
But he was right. He was not a bad man. Just a human capable of terrible decisions. I can see he has changed, but so have I.
I opened my eyes and reached for a small snack, letting my stomach remind me I was alive, that tonight was real. Slowly, deliberately, I began getting ready. My choice of outfit was casual, yet intentional; a touch of makeup highlighted my eyes, the place where my heart remembered so much. My pulse quickened with clarity: I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted. I knew who I deserved. My heart hummed at the thought of his name, at the memory of his face.
The ride was quiet, my mind a blend of anticipation and reflection and then I saw him.
He stood there, waiting, the soft glow of lighting framing him like he had been there all along, etched into the night. His suit was immaculate, but what struck me more was the way his eyes lit up when they found mine—warmth, relief, love.
I eased into the chair across from him, feeling the air shift between us. He looked at me and smiled—part hope, part humility—and my chest tightened as if it were trying to hold all the years of us at once. For a single heartbeat, I let myself take it in: the weight of the past, the ache and the joy, the countless small moments stitched together, and the quiet, inevitable conclusion pressing down on us both.
And then I said it, my voice calm:
"I forgive you, Aaron."
Chapter Thirty: Vows
As I walked toward him, I couldn't help but marvel at how strange and beautiful life is. How we can fall in love, hurt each other, break, and somehow, if we are brave enough, rebuild and survive. There was a time I had completely let go of love,convinced it wasn't meant for me anymore. Trust, intimacy, hope, they all felt like fragile glass I'd shattered beyond repair.
And yet, here I was, walking into the arms of the man who had shown that love is a choice. My heart hammered in my chest so violently I thought I might faint. Every step felt electric, a collision of anticipation and memory, and then he looked up.
His eyes—blue, arresting, impossibly clear—shone behind his glasses. His smile, wide and effortless, reached those eyes and made them dance. The tattoos along his neck and part of his arms peeked from under his shirt, hints of stories and moments I wanted to know again. I felt a shiver run down my spine, equal parts fear and longing, and I could swear I might die from the sheer intensity of it, standing here, so close, about to be in his arms again.
I breathed in slowly, letting this moment sink into me. In that instant, with the stars preparing to streak across the night sky, I understood something profound: I had let go of the past. I had released the shadows that held me down and now I was leaping, into him, into the present, into a future painted in light, love, and possibility.
Aaron's face lit up the moment he heard the word forgiveness. Relief washed over him so strongly that his lips trembled; his eyes glistened as if he might cry. Before he could say anything, I took his hands gently, grounding us both.
"I forgive you, Aaron" I said softly. "I know you did a horrible thing. I believe you understand now how badly you treated me... and still, I forgive you."
"I love you, June," he burst out, voice shaking. "I swear—never again."
I looked at him steadily. "I'm sure you'll never make that mistake again with anyone else."
His eyes widened at my words, startled, but I kept going before he could interrupt.
"Because forgiveness, Aaron, doesn't mean returning. It doesn't mean we pick up where we left off, as if nothing ever happened. Forgiveness means I'm setting myself free. I've carried so much anger that burned through me, sadness that hollowed me out, resentment that poisoned even my happiest memories and I'm done carrying it.
I forgive you, not because what you did was small, it wasn't, but because I refuse to let it define me any longer. I forgive you because I deserve peace.
And I forgive you, too, because what we had wasn't all pain. There were moments when you stood by me, when you held me, when you made me laugh until my ribs ached. There were days when I looked at you and thought I was the luckiest person alive. You loved me once—or at least, you did until the day you didn't, and for that time, for those moments that were real and good, I can be grateful, even now."
He opened his mouth, desperate to stop me, but I lifted my hand slightly, a quiet request for him to let me finish.
"Maybe you did love me," I said, softer now, though my chest still ached. "But love is more than a feeling—it's a choice. A choice you make every day, in the small things and the big ones, and when it mattered most, when everything hung in the balance, you didn't choose me. You remember that moment, don't you? When I asked you, plainly, to choose us... and you turned away."
I let the silence stretch, the memory itself filling the space between us.
"I'm not angry anymore, Aaron. Not the way I once was. Back then, it felt like betrayal had split me wide open. But now, with distance, I see it differently. It was a blessing in disguise—painful, yes, but necessary. Because if you hadn't let me go, I might still be clinging to someone who was only halfway there, still convincing myself I was enough to make you stay."
His face crumpled. He was hurting—I could see it—but my words weren't meant as a blade. They were release, for both of us.
"I did love you," I admitted, my voice steadying as I spoke the truth. "I chose you—again and again, even when it cost me parts of myself I'll never get back. But the truth is, I don't trust you anymore and even more than trust, I don't feel safe placing my heart in your hands. With you, I would always be waiting for the floor to fall away, always bracing for the day you might walk out again. That isn't love, Aaron, that's survival."
I drew in a breath, meeting his tearful eyes.
"And I refuse," I said, my tone firm now, "I refuse to build my life on fear. I refuse to live as someone's second choice. I deserve more than that. I deserve to be someone's star, the one they look to when they're lost. I deserve to be the axis their world turns on, the orbit their love revolves around. Nothing less. Not anymore."
