Chapter 190

Chapter 190

Angela turned her head and gave Lucas a mildly reproachful look. "Why can't you just go easy on Alan?"

The man who had just been wearing his cold, arrogant CEO face instantly changed the moment his wife spoke up.

He set down the apple he'd been halfway through peeling and shuffled over to Angela like a clingy oversized puppy, all wounded and pouty.

He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Honey, you're playing favorites," Lucas mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with grievance. "He started it. I was just defending my dignity as a brother-in-law. And the second you open your mouth, you take his side. That hurts."

His nuzzling was making her neck tickle. Angela couldn't help laughing despite herself. She gave his broad shoulder a push. "Who do you think you are to me? Stop trying to get cozy. Move."

"No."

Not only did Lucas refuse to let go, he held on tighter and shamelessly nuzzled deeper into her neck. "She's my wife. I can hold her whenever I want. You're never getting away from me. Not in this lifetime."

Just as the two of them were tangled up in their little back-and-forth, a soft but firm cough came from the doorway — old, but full of energy.

Angela froze. She looked up and found Brigitta standing at the door, leaning on her cane, wearing a look that was half smile, half something else entirely.

"Grandma!"

Angela's face went red. She shoved Lucas away with everything she had.

Lucas stumbled, caught off guard, and shot Brigitta a slightly wounded look.

Brigitta didn't even glance at him. She walked in with a warm smile, took Angela's hand, and teased, "Looks like I picked a bad time. Did I interrupt something?"

"Grandma, don't listen to him..." Angela wanted to disappear on the spot.

Brigitta patted the back of Angela's hand, her eyes full of affection. Then she turned and gave Lucas a withering look. "At least you have some decency. You know how to treat your wife right."

She turned back to Angela, her voice gentle and warm. "Angela, let's not make a big fuss about Christmas this year. I've already had the villa decorated and asked the chef to prepare dinner. This year, our whole family — right here, together — we're going to have a real Christmas."

Listening to Brigitta's warm words, and glancing over at Lucas — who'd just been scolded but was still grinning like an idiot, quietly fidgeting with her fingers — Angela felt something shift inside her.

A warmth she hadn't felt in a long time slowly filled her chest. The kind that felt like home.

She held her grandmother's hand back, her eyes curving into a smile, and said softly:

"Okay. We'll spend Christmas together."

By evening, Lucas had taken care of all the temporary discharge paperwork.

Angela was bundled in a cashmere blanket. The moment they wheeled her through the hospital doors, a sharp gust of cold air hit her face, carrying flecks of snow.

She instinctively pulled her neck in.

"Cold?" He leaned down, his warm breath brushing across her forehead.

Angela shook her head.

She could have sworn it was still late autumn when she'd arrived. Now it was full-on winter.

It felt like she'd been gone forever.

The villa was warm and bright, decorated everywhere with festive lights.

She looked around at the place — familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

"All this...?" Angela looked at the furniture and things inside, puzzled.

"I had everything shipped over from Hillside Villa back home. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable after being discharged." Lucas said it like it was nothing.

Angela blinked, then smiled. "That was thoughtful of you."

Lucas didn't take any credit or look proud. He just looked at her softly. "That's nothing. I'll wash your hands and feed you dinner myself."

Dinner was a full spread, covering the whole table.

To make it feel right, Brigitta had someone switch the TV to a channel from back home.

Spending Christmas in a foreign country — and yet, it felt genuinely warm.

Brigitta couldn't stop smiling, piling food into Angela's bowl until it was practically overflowing.

"Angela, eat more. Look at you, you're so thin. A strong wind would knock you over."

Lucas sat beside her, quietly peeling shrimp one by one, dipping each piece in sauce, and carefully placing them in her bowl.

Angela looked at the scene in front of her — so warm it almost didn't feel real — and felt her eyes start to sting.

How long had it been since she'd done something like this? Just sat with family like a normal person and shared a meal?

After dinner, Brigitta glanced out the window and suddenly cried out in delight. "It's snowing! Look at it come down!"

Angela followed her gaze. Outside, without anyone noticing, the world had turned white.

Under the glow of the streetlights, the snow fell in thick, quiet curtains, draping everything in stillness and calm.

"Angela, let me take you outside to see the snow," Lucas murmured close to her ear.

Angela nodded.

He immediately fetched a heavy cloak and wrapped her up from head to toe.

"Grandma, we're going out for a bit."

Brigitta watched Lucas fussing over every little detail and smiled with quiet pride. She waved them off. "Go on, go on. You're young — enjoy it. I'll watch some TV and head to bed."

Snow had already piled up thick across the courtyard.

Lucas held Angela close, letting her lean into him. They stood under the covered walkway and watched the snow fall in this faraway country.

The world was so quiet. Nothing but the soft hush of snowflakes landing, and the warmth of each other's breath.

"Angela."

Lucas spoke suddenly. His voice cut through the silent, snowy night with unusual clarity.

Angela made a small sound and turned to look at him.

But he wasn't looking at her. He was gazing at the snow-covered treetops in the distance, and he spoke slowly.

"I never understood what love was. I grew up surrounded by rules, terrified of making a single wrong move. All they ever taught me was responsibility. So The Conway Group became something I had to carry. I thought Cora was part of that too — just another responsibility. It wasn't until I met you that I understood. Love is what makes you feel everything — joy, anger, heartbreak, happiness."

He paused, then turned to look at her, his gaze steady and burning.

"I'm sorry. I figured it out too late. I put you through so much."

Then, without warning, he let go of her and stepped back.

In the snow, slowly and deliberately, he lowered himself onto one knee.

Angela stared at him, unable to believe what she was seeing.

He looked up at her. A few snowflakes had landed on his face and melted. His dark eyes reflected the falling snow all around them.

And in them — her reflection, small and still.

His eyes were full of something close to reverence. Humble and full of love.

"Angela." His voice trembled.

"I can't undo the past. All I can do is spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I don't know what the future holds. I don't even dare ask for your forgiveness. All I'm asking is this — let me stay by your side. Through good and bad. Through whatever comes. I'll be there."

He paused. The breath he let out turned to a small cloud of mist and faded into the cold air.

"Angela. Merry Christmas."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, holding it up to her.

He looked at her. And with everything he had, he spoke the most sincere wish of his life — not marry me, not forgive me.

Instead, he said: "I'm begging you — for all the years ahead, may every one of them be good to you."

Angela stood quietly, looking at the man kneeling in the snow.

All his pride. All his untouchable certainty. In this moment, it had all turned to dust.

She knew her illness was like a time bomb hanging over her head. No one knew when it might go off.

The future was full of uncertainty. Maybe she didn't even have a "rest of her life" to promise him.

And yet...

She watched the snow fall without a sound, settling on his shoulders.

Behind her, the villa windows glowed with warm, amber light.

The quiet beauty of this moment felt so real.

All the old resentment, the pain, the bitterness — it felt like the snow had gently covered it all, buried it beneath a clean white layer.

Angela slowly reached out her hand.

She watched him carefully, tenderly, slide the ring onto her finger, smiling the whole time.

And for the first time in a long time, she smiled back — from somewhere deep inside.

At least in this moment, she was willing to believe in him again.

She was willing to believe that maybe, just maybe, there really was a future waiting for them.

"Lucas," she said. Her voice was soft, but it reached him perfectly clearly.

"Merry Christmas."

May every year ahead be good to us both.

(The End)