The morning after Vivian's visit, Lila woke early. The Verona sky was streaked with gold and pale blue, a quiet promise of change. Yet peace eluded her.
Ethan was still asleep on the couch, his arm in the sling, his breathing steady. She stood by the balcony, staring at him — the man who had once broken her heart and was now trying to piece it back together.
Forgiving him wasn't easy. Loving him again felt both terrifying and inevitable.
Her mind spun with everything they'd endured: the abandonment, the confession, the tears, the accidents, the small kindnesses that rebuilt what was shattered. She knew Ethan had changed — she could see it in his patience, hear it in his voice, feel it in the steadiness of his touch.
But she also knew love alone wasn't enough. It needed courage. It needed trust.
Later that day, they visited the launch venue for the campaign — the same gallery where they had first met years ago. It was poetic, almost cruel, how life had led them back there.
As they walked through the exhibits, Ethan stopped in front of a new painting — two figures standing apart under the same storm, the rain blurring the space between them.
"It reminds me of us," he said quietly.
Lila smiled faintly. "Always standing in the rain, never knowing if we should reach for each other or walk away."
He turned to her. "What if we stop walking away this time?"
Her heart twisted. "And what if it hurts again?"
"Then we heal again," he said simply. "Because I'd rather fight for you than live without you."
Tears filled her eyes. "Ethan…"
He took her hand gently. "I can't erase what I did. But I can promise I'll never be the man who runs again. Not from the world. Not from you."
The raw truth in his voice broke down the last of her walls. She realized then that love wasn't about perfection or certainty — it was about choice. The choice to forgive. To trust again. To believe.
Lila stepped closer and whispered, "Then stop waiting for my permission."
He blinked, startled, before she rose on her toes and kissed him — soft, trembling, full of every unspoken emotion between them.
It wasn't a kiss of fairy-tale endings. It was a kiss of survival — of two souls learning to love again after the world had tried to tear them apart.
When they finally pulled away, she whispered, "You still owe me a wedding dance."
He smiled, his eyes shining. "Then dance with me now."
And beneath the fading light of Verona, surrounded by memories and forgiveness, they did — slow, quiet, and beautifully imperfect.
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