Chapter 287 She Would Become My Wife Again

Chapter 287 She Would Become My Wife Again
DAVID'S POV

Despite planning what we called a "small and intimate wedding," the preparations had everyone running in circles. Our home had become a revolving door of vendors, all coordinated by Olivia's meticulous eye for detail.

I watched Olivia from across the living room as she discussed flower arrangements with the florist. Her focus was absolute, that familiar crease appearing between her eyebrows when she concentrated.

"David, what do you think? Peonies or roses for the centerpieces?" Olivia called out, drawing me from my thoughts.

I crossed the room to her side, studying the two arrangements. "The peonies match your design aesthetic better," I said, remembering how she'd always favored their layered complexity in her fabric patterns.

Her eyes lit up. "Exactly what I was thinking." She turned to the florist. "We'll go with the peonies, but can we incorporate some of those smaller roses in the bouquet?"

Even in wedding planning, Olivia maintained the perfect balance of decisive leadership and collaborative inclusion. She never made me feel like a bystander, always ensuring I was part of every decision from menu selections to seating arrangements. Yet despite her support, a nagging anxiety persisted beneath my calm exterior.

Later that evening, after the last vendor had left and Ethan was tucked in bed, I retreated to my study. The quiet space had become my sanctuary, especially on days when the fog in my mind grew thicker. I sank into my leather chair, opening the locked drawer where I kept the medical files—the ones Olivia thought I'd stopped reviewing.

My eyes skimmed over phrases that had become all too familiar: "early-onset dementia syndrome," "accelerated cognitive decline," "limited treatment options."

I wanted nothing more than to build a life with Olivia and Ethan, to give them the stability and love they deserved. But how could I promise forever when my own mind was slowly erasing my ability to remember what forever meant? How could I be the husband and father they needed when pieces of me were already disappearing?

The night before our wedding, sleep eluded me. I lay in the hotel bed staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Tradition had dictated that Olivia and I spend the night before our wedding apart—a superstition she had insisted on with a laugh, saying we needed all the luck we could get.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through photos of Olivia and Ethan. There was Ethan at the park, his face split with laughter as I pushed him on the swing. Olivia in her studio, pins between her lips as she adjusted fabric on a mannequin. The three of us at the beach, Ethan between us, tiny hands gripping our fingers.

These memories—would they survive the ravages of my condition? Would I remember the sound of my son's laughter or the way Olivia's eyes crinkled when she smiled?

The digital clock read 11:42 PM. I sat up, suddenly unable to bear the separation. Superstition be damned—I needed to see her. I pulled on jeans and a sweater, grabbed my key card, and headed for the elevator.

Olivia's suite was on the floor above mine. I knocked softly, half expecting her to be asleep.

The door opened to reveal Olivia in silk pajamas, her wedding dress hanging behind her. She looked surprised, a pin cushion still attached to her wrist.

"David? What are you doing here?" Her tone was light, but I could see the concern in her eyes.

I stepped inside without answering, drawing her into my arms. "Don't move," I whispered against her hair. "Just let me hold you."

She relaxed against me, her arms circling my waist. "How many superstitions are we breaking right now?" she murmured against my chest.

"All of them, probably," I replied, feeling some of my anxiety melt away at her touch. "The groom seeing the bride before the wedding, being in the same room as the dress..."

"Oh, you know that," she teased, pulling back to look at me. "Seriously, are you okay?"

I nodded, leading her to sit on the edge of the bed. "I just needed to see you. Couldn't sleep."

"Pre-wedding jitters?" Her fingers laced with mine.

"Something like that," I admitted, not wanting to burden her with the full weight of my fears.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the moonlight streaming through the window casting silver shadows across the room. My eyes drifted to her wedding dress—a stunning creation of her own design.

"Do you remember when we first met?" I asked suddenly.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "At the charity gala? That was what, seven years ago?"

"Seven years, two months, and fourteen days ago," I corrected. "It was that fundraiser for children's education. You were there representing the boutique you worked for."

Olivia's expression softened. "I can't believe you remember the exact day."

"I remember everything about that night," I said quietly. "You were wearing a midnight blue evening gown that made your eyes look like sapphires. I saw you standing alone by the bar, and the entire room seemed to fade away."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You never told me that before."

"I handed you a glass of champagne, and you looked up with this surprised smile that nearly knocked me off my feet." I traced patterns on her palm. "You asked me if I was enjoying the 'stuffy gathering of pretentious rich people,' not realizing I was one of them."

Olivia laughed softly. "Oh God, I did say that, didn't I? I was so embarrassed when I found out who you were."

"But you didn't apologize or backtrack. You just raised your glass and said, 'Well, at least one of the pretentious rich people has good taste in champagne.'"

"And we ended up talking until sunrise," she finished, her eyes growing misty. "Even with hundreds of people around us, it felt like we were the only ones there."

I lifted her hand to my lips. "When I drove you home that morning, I already knew I was in love with you. That early, Liv. I fell in love with you that early."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I never imagined we'd end up here, after everything."

I cupped her face gently. "I'm sorry, Olivia. For the years we lost. For what I've done to you and Ethan."

"David—" she began, but I needed to say this while my mind was clear.

"I remember our beginning, Liv. I remember everything about you. I will never let go again." My voice caught. "Whatever happens, I will never forget you, Olivia. I swear it."

She pressed her forehead against mine, our tears mingling. "I know," she whispered, though we both recognized the cruelty of my promise—one that my disease would eventually force me to break.

When our lips met, it felt like both a beginning and an ending—a kiss weighted with all we had been through and all that lay ahead. Tomorrow she would become Mrs. Wilson again, and our fragmented family would be whole.