Chapter 175 Not letting go

Chapter 175 Not letting go
I couldn’t sleep.

No matter how many times I closed my eyes, rest refused to come. The house lay wrapped in a heavy, unnatural quiet.

I sat on the edge of Kendrick’s crib, watching him sleep. His tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm beneath the soft blanket. Every so often his little body twitched, and a smile tugged at my lips despite the exhaustion weighing on me.

Three months ago, I had almost lost him forever. A few days ago, I had nearly lost him again. Yet somehow, through the chaos, the heartbreak, and the destruction, we were still here—alive, together, safe.

I brushed my fingers lightly through his soft curls. “You really scared me, little man,” I whispered.

Kendrick sighed in his sleep. A tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly. Lately, tears came too easily. Maybe because I was bone-tired. Or maybe because I had finally stopped burying everything I felt for years.

My gaze drifted to the window. Moonlight spilled across the floor, carrying a flood of memories with it.

Aaron.

Always Aaron.

The first time we met. The moment I fell for him. The day he broke my heart. The day he married Zara. The day I discovered I was pregnant. Kendrick’s birth. The terrifying fight for his life. And the day Aaron charged into that decaying house without hesitation—for our son, for us—risking everything.

My chest tightened. God. When had I stopped seeing the man who kept showing up? The one who never truly left?

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. Mom stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Things between us had felt fragile lately—awkward but honest, like we were both learning how to bridge years of distance.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked gently.

I let out a quiet laugh. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little.” She crossed the room and sat beside me. We watched Kendrick in comfortable silence for a while.

“He’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

I smiled. “He is.”

Then her voice softened. “Sarah…”

I turned. She wasn’t looking at me—she was staring at her grandson, regret carved deep into her face. “I owe you an apology. For a lot of things.”

My breath caught.

“I spent years trying to control your life,” she continued, voice trembling. “I thought I was protecting you. But I wasn’t.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I failed you. I should have listened. I should have believed you.”

I looked away, throat burning.

“I chose Zara too many times.” Her voice cracked. “She always seemed so broken… and I didn’t realize I was breaking you in the process.”

Years of pain—of feeling second-best, unseen, unloved—rose up, choking me.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

I closed my eyes. Then I leaned forward and pulled her into my arms. Mom broke first, and I followed. We cried quietly together—for Dad, for Zara, for the family we had lost, and for the healing we were finally beginning.

When we eventually pulled apart, Mom laughed through her tears. “Your father would be furious if he saw us crying this much.”

I laughed too, the sound lighter than I’d felt in years. “He absolutely would.”

Hours later, after Mom had gone to bed, I stood in the kitchen making coffee. Dawn crept in, painting the countertops in soft golden light. I was pouring milk into a mug when the front door opened.

I turned and it was Aaron.

A quiet warmth bloomed in my chest as he stepped inside. His eyes found mine immediately. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke.

“Hello,” he said, lifting a small paper bag. That familiar smile—the one that always undid me—curved his lips.

“Hi.” I raised an eyebrow. “Bribery?”

“A little.”

He smiled wider, then glanced toward Kendrick’s room. “Still asleep?”

“Yeah”

I found myself really watching him. Not the man who had broken my heart before. Just Aaron—the one who kept showing up, who fought for our son, who chose me again and again even when I pushed him away.

My chest ached with sudden clarity. I was tired of fighting it.

Aaron noticed my expression. “You okay?”

I swallowed. “No.”

Concern flashed across his face. He stepped closer. “Sarah—”

“I need to say something.”

The kitchen felt smaller, the air thicker. I looked into his eyes—the same ones I had tried and failed to forget for years.

“I’ve spent so long being afraid,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Afraid of Mom. Afraid of Zara. Afraid of loving you.”

Aaron went completely still.

I closed the distance between us until only inches remained. “I kept telling myself it was wrong. But even after everything… I still love you.”

His eyes shone with emotion. “Sarah…”

“I’m tired of running.” A tear slipped down my cheek, warm and unsteady. “I choose you too.”

Aaron stared at me. One heartbeat. Two. The silence stretched, as if the whole world had paused to listen. Then something shattered in his expression—relief, disbelief, and raw longing all at once.

He reached for me.

I went willingly, stepping into the space between us like I’d been waiting years to do it.

His hands cradled my face with heartbreaking gentleness, thumbs brushing away the tears on my cheeks. His palms were warm, slightly rough from exhaustion, yet so careful, as if he were afraid I might vanish. Our foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the narrow space between us. I could feel the faint tremble in his fingers, the rapid thud of his heartbeat echoing my own.

We were both crying now—quiet, messy tears mixing with soft, disbelieving laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep and long-buried.

No more secrets.

No more fear.

No more walls.

Just us.

Finally.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice raw and cracked, like the words had been waiting behind his ribs for years.

“I know,” I breathed, my hands sliding up to grip his shirt, anchoring myself to the solid warmth of him.

Then I kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It was years of longing, of pain, of almosts and what-ifs poured into one moment. His lips met mine with equal hunger—desperate, tender, and certain all at once. One of his hands slid into my hair, the other pressed against my lower back, pulling me closer until there was nothing left between us. I Felt the way his breath hitched, the way his body softened as the last tension finally left him.

And this time, neither of us let go.