Chapter 16
The days melted into each other like soft cream over warm bread.
For the first time in years, I could finally breathe–really breathe. The air in Switzerland was crisp, fragrant with pine and rain. But it wasn’t just the air. It was him.
Scott.
Each morning, he’d find some excuse to linger near the kitchen just to taste what I was cooking- whether it was something as simple as buttered toast or an intricate three–course lunch. He’d grin like a boy every time I placed a plate in front of him.
“This isn’t breakfast,” he’d tease, eyes glinting. “This is seduction on a plate.”
I’d laugh, swat his arm with a dishrag, and he’d feign a dramatic injury before pulling me into a hug.
There was something so easy about being with him.
We spent our days exploring, laughing, learning each other’s stories between sips of coffee or while walking through vineyards. I even taught him how to knead dough properly–though he insisted his “misshapen blob” was still better because I’d helped him make it.
And his mother?
She adored me.
She’d recovered enough to return home, though she still needed checkups at the hospital. I went with her often, holding her arm as she moved slowly, making her laugh with ridiculous jokes. She called me her “sunshine girl.” I brought her homemade soup in thermoses and baked lavender
cookies that reminded her of childhood.
“I always prayed Scott would meet someone with a soul like yours,” she said once, squeezing my hand during a quiet hospital afternoon. “And now here you are. A woman who knows pain but still chooses gentleness.”
I blinked back tears. “Thank you… I never thought I’d feel like part of a family again.”
“You are,” she said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I smiled. I really thought nothing could ruin this peace.
Until the news blared from the hospital room’s television.
Jarren’s face filled the screen.
The headline: SMITH INDUSTRIES ON THE BRINK OF COLLAPSE. CEO UNDER FIRE.
I froze.
He looked… exhausted. Pale. Hollow–eyed. Reporters shouted questions about missing funds, broken partnerships, and a scandal that rocked the company to its core.
I didn’t feel pity.
Just disbelief.
His empire–once so cruelly pristine–was crumbling. One of the reporters even mentioned that Elisa, his fiancée, had been admitted to the hospital after a “private incident.”
I turned the volume down.
And just as I was about to change the channel, my phone buzzed.
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Aurora.
I answered quietly, stepping into the hallway.
“She’s in the hospital,” she said after a moment.
“Elisa?”
“Yes. Injuries, trauma… they won’t say what exactly. She nearly died–twice. Sound familiar?”
My lips curled. “So… she’s finally tasting her own poison.”
Aurora’s voice held a trace of guilt. “And Jarren… well, his company’s gone. The board’s kicked him out. He’s being investigated now.”
“Good.”
There was a pause.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“I do,” I said. “It just doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Do you want to do anything about it?”
I thought about it for a moment… and then I laughed.
“Maybe just one thing.”
That night, I sent a bouquet to the hospital. Black lilies and death blooms.
No name. No message.
Just a silent reminder that karma always remembers.
When I returned to Scott’s estate that evening, the house was quieter than usual. The hallway was lit with golden lights. A soft piano tune played from somewhere, and I noticed the faint scent of garden roses in the air.
Odd.
“Scott?” I called gently.
No answer.
As I entered the dining room, I stopped short.
Candles.
Hundreds of them–tiny flames flickering along the table, the windows, the walls. A soft path of petals led toward the terrace where a small table for two was set, draped in white linen, glasses sparkling under the stars.
Scott stood at the edge, dressed in a tailored black suit, his hair slightly tousled, a nervous but dazzling smile on his face.
I blinked. “What… is all this?”
He stepped forward. “A dinner.”
“For what?”
“For us.” He took my hand and led me to the table. “For everything.”
The food was perfect, but I barely tasted it. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. He kept looking at
me like he was memorizing my face.
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And then, as the stars shone brighter overhead, he rose from his seat, walked to my side, and
knelt,
I gasped.
“Scott…”
“I know,” he said, voice steady. “It’s fast. Maybe too fast. But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’ve changed everything for me, Hayley. You brought light into this house into my heart. You gave me back the meaning of love. And I want to give you the rest of my life for it.”
He opened the box.
A ring–simple, elegant, and glittering like the sky above.
“Will you marry me?”
Tears pooled in my eyes.
Yes, it was fast.
But it felt right.
Safe. Peaceful. Real.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I will.”
He smiled and slid the ring on my finger.
And under the stars, he kissed me.
I wasn’t running anymore.
I was finally home.
Beventh Time I died My Husband Finally Degretted
