“My brother ditched you? Marry me,” the billionaire said with a smirk, looking at the abandoned bride.
“I’m in love with you, too,” she whispered, her heart full. “The man who sees people, who builds with integrity, and who makes me feel that I am more than enough, just as I am.”
He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t a kiss of desperate passion, but of connection, promise, and the profound comfort of coming home.
A year later, on a quiet Sunday, they walked through a park. Sebastian pulled a small box from his pocket. Her heart stopped, but he just smiled. He opened it to reveal not a ring, but a single, beautifully designed key.
“It’s for our next project,” he said. “A center for young artists from low-income families. I want you to design it. Your vision, your name, your legacy.” He then looked into her eyes, his own full of a future she now eagerly awaited. “And someday, when you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me. But not today. Today, I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”
Valentina kissed him, the weight of the key in her hand feeling like a promise. Her story hadn’t ended at that altar; it had just begun. Because sometimes, the most painful endings are the ones that open the door to the most beautiful beginnings imaginable.
