Chapter 154

Chapter 154
Derek POV


Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver patterns across our bedroom. The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:17 AM, but sleep eluded me. Beside me, Eleanor lay curled on her side, her breathing deep and even, completely at peace. Her hair spilled across the pillow like a dark river, and one hand was tucked beneath her cheek in a gesture so innocent it made my chest ache.

I shifted carefully to face her, mindful not to disturb the mattress. The doctors had cleared me to move around more, but my muscles still protested at sudden movements—a reminder of how far I had to go. But watching Eleanor sleep, I felt something deeper than the physical discomfort. A profound sense of contentment washed over me, mixed with an almost overwhelming desire to protect her.

My mind drifted back to the small gathering we'd hosted earlier that evening. Daniel's face had practically glowed when he announced Melissa's pregnancy and their engagement. I'd seen a new kind of pride in my friend's expression—something settled and certain that I'd never noticed before. The way he'd placed his hand protectively on Melissa's still-flat stomach, the quiet confidence in his voice when he said, "We're going to be a family."

I'd always respected Daniel as my best friend, but tonight I'd envied him in a way I never had before. Not for his career or achievements, but for the clarity he had about his path forward. He knew exactly what he wanted and had taken decisive steps to secure it. In contrast, I'd spent years running from what I truly wanted, only to nearly lose it forever.

The revelation struck me like a physical blow. Daniel wasn't just happy about becoming a father—he was proud of the life he was building, the future he was creating with someone he loved. I thought about how Melissa looked at him, with such trust and affection, and how confidently he returned that gaze. There was no hesitation between them, no painful history of missteps and rejections. Just two people moving forward together.

Eleanor shifted slightly in her sleep, one hand unconsciously reaching out to the space between us. Even in sleep, she was reaching for me. The realization hit me with startling clarity: I had been the one being taken care of for too long. Before the accident, I'd been emotionally dependent on Eleanor without acknowledging it. After the accident, I'd become physically dependent as well. Eleanor had sacrificed everything—her business, her independence, her daily life—all for me.

I curled my fingers into a fist beneath the covers, feeling a surge of determination. I refused to be a burden any longer. I would redouble my efforts with physical therapy, push myself harder. The doctors had outlined a recovery timeline, but I intended to beat it. I would walk properly again, without assistance, sooner than anyone expected.

And that was just the beginning.

Once I was back on my feet, I would need to address Frontier Capital. The company couldn't continue in limbo indefinitely. Thomas had been holding things together admirably, but decisions needed to be made about our direction moving forward. I had ideas—ambitious ones that had been forming during my long hours of forced inactivity. Perhaps this accident, terrible as it was, had given me the opportunity to reassess everything, to rebuild something even stronger.

But the business was secondary. My primary focus—the thought that made my heart race with anticipation and nervousness—was Eleanor. I wanted to propose to her, properly this time. Not the cold, transactional arrangement we'd had before, but a real proposal born of love and mutual respect.

I imagined how I would do it. Nothing flashy or public—Eleanor would hate that. Something intimate and meaningful. Perhaps at the bench in the Public Garden where we used to sit as teenagers, watching the swan boats. I'd need a ring, something elegant and understated that suited her refined taste. Not ostentatious or showy, but something of quality that she could wear proudly.

The thought of kneeling before her (once my legs could support such an action) and asking her to be my wife again filled me with both excitement and shame. How could I have wasted so much time? The memory of how I'd behaved during our first marriage made me wince. The coldness, the distance I'd deliberately maintained, the way I'd fled to London rather than face my growing feelings for her.

Three years. I'd thrown away three years we could have had together. Then I'd nearly lost everything in that crash. The universe had given me a second chance, and I wasn't going to squander it.

I remembered the moment I'd asked her to marry me the first time. It hadn't even been a question—more of a statement. "We're getting married," I'd told her, as if informing her of a business transaction. No romance, no tenderness, no recognition of what I was asking her to sacrifice. Just cold pragmatism cloaked in family obligation.

And yet, she'd said yes. She'd stood beside me at that hastily arranged ceremony, her face a careful mask hiding whatever she truly felt. I'd told myself she was doing it for my grandmother, for the family that had taken her in. Now I wondered if even then, she had felt something more for me—something I'd been too blind or too stubborn to see.

Beside me, Eleanor shifted in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Her brow furrowed slightly as if she were confronting some problem in her dreams. I couldn't make out the words, but the vulnerability in her expression tugged at something deep inside me.

Moving with careful deliberation, I inched closer to her. I slipped my arm beneath her head and gently drew her against me, cradling her so her face rested in the hollow of my neck. She sighed softly, instinctively curling into my warmth, her body relaxing against mine.

The feel of her breath against my skin sent a wave of tenderness through me so intense it was almost painful. This woman had sat by my hospital bed for weeks, reading to me, talking to me, refusing to give up even when others had begun to lose hope. She had sold her beloved flower shop—her independence, her passion—to care for me.

In that moment, I made a silent vow to her. I would spend the rest of my life making up for the time I'd wasted. I would give her everything she deserved—security, passion, partnership, respect. I imagined our future together: a proper wedding, perhaps children someday if she wanted them, a home that was truly ours rather than just mine or hers.

Most importantly, I would make her my wife again. But this time, it would be different. This time, she would say yes because she wanted to, not because she felt obligated. This time, I would be the husband she deserved from the beginning.

Eleanor mumbled something else in her sleep and nestled closer, her hand coming to rest over my heart. I covered it with my own, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin, marveling at how someone so seemingly fragile could possess such tremendous strength.

I closed my eyes, a smile playing at my lips as sleep finally began to claim me. I would make Eleanor Wells again, but not because of family obligations or temporary arrangements. This time, she would become Eleanor Wells because she loved me as deeply as I loved her. And this time, she would never want to leave.

Not because she couldn't, but because she wouldn't want to.