Chapter Hundred And Four

Chapter Hundred And Four
Gabriel 
Standing on the bottom steps of the church where my siblings had been christened brought back a flood of memories, and those memories made me smile. I hadn’t planned to come here today; I’d only decided to drive around town to see old places, and somehow, I’d ended up right here—at this particular church. St. Peter’s Basilica.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe something in me just wanted to feel close to home again.

As I made my way up the steps, scrolling through my phone to read my messages, I accidentally bumped into a woman dressed in a beautiful floral print dress. Her face was partially hidden beneath her scarf, and in that moment, both my phone and her purse hit the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized in Italian, bending down to grab my things.

We both reached down at the same time and ended up butting heads because we were too close. “Ow.”

“That hurts.” Her voice… it sounded familiar. So painfully familiar that my heart stilled in my chest.

Then she looked up.

And just like that, the air was punched right out of my lungs.

The words died in her throat as recognition dawned in her eyes, and I couldn’t speak either. My pulse thundered in my ears as I stared at her, unable to believe what I was seeing.

What were the fucking odds? After two years of wondering where she’d gone, of searching, of asking every possible question to a universe that stayed silent—she was here. Here, in my father’s country, standing on the steps of the same church where I’d once imagined us getting married.

For a second, I prayed it was a dream. But when I pinched myself and felt the sting of pain, I knew it was real.

“Kareena?” I breathed, then quickly corrected myself. “I mean… Arian.”

“Hi.”

That one word was enough to undo me. I just stood there, taking in her face, her eyes, her presence—everything I’d missed for so long. My brain screamed at me to do something before she made an excuse to leave again, and without thinking, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into my arms.

God, she felt the same. Soft. Warm. Real.

She didn’t hug me back at first, and my heart sank, but then—slowly—her arms came around me. I closed my eyes, burying my face in her shoulder, breathing her in as though that could make up for the two years I’d spent aching for her.

Two fucking years.

Two years of questions. Two years of anger that melted into sadness, then into something far worse—resignation. And now she was here, in my arms again.

When she finally pulled back, I saw tears glistening in her eyes. I could already read the apology in them before she spoke.

“Don’t apologize,” I said, cupping her face gently. “I’m not mad at you. I could never get mad at you for anything in this world, Arian.”

“You should hate me.” Her voice trembled.

“I don’t.” I shook my head. “If anything, I’m so damn happy to see you.”

“Me too,” she whispered, sniffing. “I wanted to call you several times but I always chickened out. I thought it was best to let things be.”

“Never,” I refuted softly. “We’re made for each other, Arian. No matter where we go, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Right then, her stomach growled, and we both laughed. It was such a simple, human moment—one that reminded me how much I’d missed this. Missed us.

“Let’s go somewhere for lunch?” I asked.

“Um… sure.” She nodded.

I took her hand, afraid to let go, and we headed to a nearby restaurant. We were ushered to a table and handed menus, though I didn’t need one—I’d been there a few times already. I closed mine almost immediately.

“Should I choose for you?” I asked, smiling.

“What are you having?”

“My favorite. Pasta.”

“I’ll have lasagne,” she decided.

When the waiter returned, I ordered for both of us and a bottle of wine. After he left, I turned my full attention back to her, afraid that if I looked away for too long, she’d disappear again.

She talked—really talked. About her travels to India and the Philippines, then back to Mexico to see her adoptive parents, who were now living as destitutes in Cancún. My father had anonymously bought out Fernando’s company and sold it to the highest bidder, leaving them with nothing.

“Good riddance,” I muttered without guilt.

When the waiter returned with our meals and wine, I poured the drinks myself. She smiled faintly at the gesture.

“What about you?” she asked. “How’s Kary? I bet she’s a big girl now.”

“She is,” I said proudly. “She’s grown so tall that you wouldn’t believe she’s only eight. Do you want to see a picture?”

“Yes, please.”

I took out my phone—still cracked from the fall earlier—and scrolled through the gallery until I found Kary’s birthday pictures. I handed the phone to her.

“Wow, she’s so beautiful,” Arian said, her eyes softening. “She’ll be a heartbreaker one day.”

“She must be very upset with me for leaving.”

“She’ll get over it,” I murmured, though deep down I wasn’t so sure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait until you woke up before leaving,” she whispered. “I was just so overwhelmed that day. I couldn’t process Rafael’s death. I was in shock.”

“I understand.” I reached across the table, brushing my fingers over hers. “I’d have done the same if I were in your shoes.”

“You’re really okay now?”

“Yeah. I just have to be careful not to get sick. Other than that, I’m good.”

“Are you staying in a hotel?”

“No. I’m with my uncle. What about you?”

“Today’s my last day in Italy.”

Her words hit me like a punch. My fork slipped and clattered against my plate. If I hadn’t come here today, I would’ve missed her. Again. The thought made my chest tighten painfully.

“Where will you go next?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to visit Korea… or China.”

“Don’t go.” The words came out before I could stop them.

“What?” She looked at me, startled.

“I don’t want you to leave me again,” I said, my voice low, desperate. “I don’t think I’ll survive it if you walk away from me for the third time.”

“Gabriel, I—”

“I love you,” I cut in. “I know you’re not a fan of marriage or labels, and I don’t care. I’ll be your boyfriend for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes. Just don’t leave me again.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears as she looked down at her plate. Her lip trembled, but she bit it quickly, trying to steady herself.

When she lifted her head again, I stopped breathing.

“You really wouldn’t mind being my boyfriend for the rest of your life?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “As long as you stay by my side, I don’t mind.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You really are too good to be true, Gabriel Cruz.”

She hesitated, then added, “But what if I told you I don’t want you to be my boyfriend for the rest of your life?”

My heart dropped. “What are you trying to say?”

“If you’ll have me,” she whispered shyly, “I’d be honored to be your wife—and the mother of your daughter.”

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Then a grin broke across my face, uncontainable, pure, and full of relief.

“Gabriel?” she said, snapping her fingers in front of my dazed expression.

“But you… do you love me?” I managed to ask.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I meant it when I told you I loved you two years ago. I’m sorry it took me this long to say it again.”

“As long as you love me,” I murmured, still smiling like a fool, “I don’t mind. I’m just glad I’ll never have to say goodbye to you again.”

“Me too.”

We sat there with our fingers intertwined, talking about the future as though time had never stolen years from us. And as she smiled across the table, I silently prayed that one day, I’d see her carrying our child—our second chance made real.