Chapter 139 CHAPTER 139: BEFORE THE PROMISE
~Wayne and Elara's Pov~
The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and freshly pressed fabric Elara noticed it the moment she stepped into the living room, arms full of garment bags and unopened boxes. The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, bathing everything in a warm, honey colored glow. London always did this to her in the evenings, like the city itself was slowing down to breathe.
Wayne stood in the middle of the room, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, staring at a seating chart like it had personally offended him.
“Elara,” he said without looking up, “tell me again why your aunt insists that people who haven’t spoken in ten years must sit together.”
She laughed, dropping the bags by the couch. “Because she believes reconciliation happens best over food.”
He finally looked at her, smiling in that way that still made her heart stumble soft, fond, a little amused, like loving her was the most natural thing in the world. “Then your aunt is far more optimistic than I am.”
Elara crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. She could feel the warmth of him through the cotton of his shirt, solid and familiar. A year ago, this kind of closeness would’ve terrified her felt too fragile, too hopeful. Now, it felt like home.
“We don’t have to please everyone,” she said gently. “It’s our engagement party. Our celebration.”
He turned in her arms, cupping her face with both hands. “I know. I just want it to be perfect for you.”
Her chest tightened at that. Not in fear but in gratitude.
“It already is,” she whispered. “Because it’s us.”
The days leading up to the engagement party blurred together in a rhythm of shared lists, late-night conversations, and quiet moments that mattered more than any decoration ever could.
They argued softly about flowers.
“You said you liked lilies,” Wayne insisted one evening, scrolling through options on his phone.
“I said they were pretty,” Elara corrected, sitting cross-legged on the floor with fabric swatches spread around her like petals. “Not that I wanted them everywhere.”
“So roses, then?”
“Too traditional.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally getting engaged.”
“Yes, but I want us traditional, not the décor.”
He laughed, dropping beside her. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” she teased, leaning into him, “you’re still here.”
“Always,” he said without hesitation.
That word always no longer scared her.
One evening, as rain tapped softly against the windows, Elara stood in front of the mirror holding up the dress she planned to wear to the party. It wasn’t white she wasn’t ready for that yet but a soft champagne color that shimmered when it caught the light.
Wayne leaned against the doorframe, watching her like the moment deserved to be remembered forever.
“You look…” He stopped, searching for the word. “Like the future.”
She met his eyes in the mirror. “That’s a big compliment.”
“It’s the truth.”
She turned to face him. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Are you?”
She thought about it. About the girl she’d once been waiting for someone who never came back, shrinking herself to hold onto something already gone. About the years she’d learned to stand alone. And about the man in front of her now, who had never once asked her to beg, to wait, to be less.
“No,” she said honestly. “I’m ready.”
He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “I love you,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes. “I love you too.”
The guest list included friends from both their worlds people who’d known Elara before the heartbreak and those who’d met her after she healed. Wayne’s friends adored her openly, teasing him about how soft he’d become.
“You’re whipped,” one of them joked during a planning brunch.
Wayne didn’t even blink. “Happily.”
Elara watched him say it without irony, without defensiveness, and something warm bloomed in her chest. Loving Wayne didn’t feel like a battle. It felt like choosing peace, again and again.
Two nights before the party, they sat on the balcony with mugs of tea, the city humming below them. Elara rested her head on Wayne’s shoulder, fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm.
“Do you ever think about how different things could’ve been?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t ask who she meant. He never did.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But only to remind myself how lucky I am that they weren’t.”
She smiled, turning to look at him. “I used to think moving on meant forgetting.”
“And now?”
“Now I know it means choosing better.”
His hand tightened around hers. “We chose each other.”
The morning of the engagement party arrived with a rush of excitement and nerves. Elara woke early, unable to sleep, watching the pale light creep into the room. Wayne stirred beside her, pulling her closer even in sleep, instinctive.
She studied his face the lines she knew so well now, the calm strength, the man who had rebuilt trust with patience instead of promises.
She kissed his shoulder softly.
He woke with a smile. “Morning, fiancée.”
The word still made her heart leap.
“Morning,” she said. “Today’s the day.”
“Our day,” he corrected.
The venue was intimate but elegant soft lights, warm colors, laughter already filling the air as guests arrived. Music played low, glasses clinked, and everywhere Elara turned, she saw love reflected back at her.
Wayne stayed close, hand at the small of her back, grounding her.
When the moment came to speak, Wayne squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” she said.
She stepped forward, breath steady.
“A year ago,” she began, “I didn’t know what my future looked like. I only knew what I’d survived. Wayne didn’t promise to fix me he just stood with me while I figured myself out. And somewhere along the way, love stopped feeling like fear.”
She looked at him, eyes shining. “It started feeling like home.”
Wayne swallowed hard.
When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “Elara taught me that love isn’t about being perfect it’s about being present. She chose me not because she needed me, but because she wanted me. That’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.”
Applause filled the room, but Elara only heard him.
Later that night, when the last guest had gone and the city quieted again, they stood alone in their apartment, shoes kicked off, laughter still lingering between them.
Wayne rested his forehead against hers. “So… wedding next?”
She smiled. “Slowly. Just like we promised.”
He kissed her gently. “Tomorrow, then?”
“And tomorrow,” she echoed. “And forever.”
Outside, London glowed on unrushed, enduring just like the love they were building, one intentional moment at a time.