Chapter 172: Exactly what I wanted
For three days after Zara’s call, I barely slept.
Every phone vibration made my heart stutter. Every unknown number felt like her voice on the line. Every unfamiliar car lingering outside sent me peering through the curtains. Every knock at the door turned my blood to ice.
The exhaustion was bone-deep.
The police kept assuring us they were pursuing leads and she wouldn’t get far. But their words rang hollow. Zara had always known how to vanish.
Our home had grown unnaturally quiet. Mom spent hours with Kendrick, rocking him, humming old lullabies. Aaron came by every day, his presence steady but careful. And I… I couldn’t stop watching my son sleep—tracing the gentle rise and fall of his chest, memorizing every flutter of his lashes. Whether it was trauma, fear, or raw need to make up for lost time, I didn’t know. All I knew was that every glimpse of him flooded me with overwhelming gratitude.
One afternoon, as Kendrick dozed peacefully in my arms, my phone rang. Aaron.
I hesitated before answering. “Hello?”
“Turn on the television.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Just trust me.” The line went dead.
Confused, I grabbed the remote. Every major channel carried the same live feed.
Aaron.
My stomach plummeted. “Oh God.”
He sat at a table facing a sea of reporters, microphones bristling like weapons, cameras flashing relentlessly. Questions already flew at him from all sides.
He looked exhausted, older, the weight of months etched into the lines of his face. But there was something new in his posture—lighter. Freer.
One reporter stood. “Mr. Bourne, are the allegations true?”
The room fell silent.
Aaron met the camera head-on. “Yes but not entirely true.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. My breath caught.
Another reporter leaned forward. “You admit to the affair with your wife’s sister?”
“Yes.” His voice remained calm, unflinching.
My stomach twisted. Hearing it laid bare so publicly stung deeper than I expected.
“Do you regret it?”
Aaron paused, then looked straight into the lens. “No I don’t regret any bit of it, I actually wish I could tell you all the story behind it but that will make a bad person in the eyes of people… because you will paint me bad for coming up with stories and some would say I’m actually trying to avoid blames so I don’t regret any bit of it.”
Chaos erupted—reporters shouting over one another.
Aaron raised a hand, and the room gradually quieted.
“The affair happened,” he said steadily. “And the way it happened was wrong. I hurt people. I hurt my wife. I hurt Sarah. I hurt myself.”
The silence grew heavy.
“But I won’t let the lies continue.” His voice strengthened. “Sarah never manipulated me. She never trapped me. She never planned any of this.” His jaw tightened. “Most importantly, Sarah never deserved the abuse she’s received.”
Tears stung my eyes. For months, no one had defended me publicly. Not like this.
Aaron continued, each word deliberate. “The woman being attacked online, blamed, and vilified—she has suffered enough. I take full responsibility for my actions. If you need someone to blame… blame me. Maybe when all of this actually dies down and it’s over I would be willing to grant an interview to tell the whole world our story—a story of survival, pain, resilience, and above all love. Not just what the world paints it to be.”
“ Mr Aaron what are you trying to say, can you please explain?”
But he didn’t say any other word again regarding their questions about us, he just peacefully declined all further questions coming at him.
The press conference stretched nearly an hour. By the end, I was crying—deep, releasing sobs. Not because everything was fixed. It wasn’t. But for the first time, someone had chosen me openly, without shame or hesitation.
The front door opened downstairs. Moments later, Aaron stepped into the living room, looking drained.
“You watched it,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, quickly wiping my tears. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other.
Finally, I asked, “Why did you do it?”
A soft, tired laugh escaped him. “Because it was long overdue.”
I looked away. “It won’t change anything.”
Aaron stepped closer. “Maybe not. But it was the truth.”
He was right. We had both spent too long hiding, running, letting others shape the story. Maybe we were both exhausted from it.
His gaze drifted to Kendrick sleeping nearby, then returned to me. “Sarah.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.” A faint smile touched his lips—the same one that had always undone me. “What happens when this is over?”
I froze, the question hanging in the air between us.
For the first time, I realized I had been so consumed with surviving that I hadn’t let myself imagine the aftermath. What happens when Zara disappears for good? When the scandal fades? When nothing stands between us anymore?
I didn’t have an answer.
And that terrified me.
Because deep down, I was beginning to know exactly what I wanted.