Chapter 171 Chapter 171

Chapter 171 Chapter 171
Dominic’s POV
The drive there feels like penance. The road twists between green hills and jagged sea. Every mile carries the weight of years of graves and lies and all the moments that brought me here.
When I finally park near a row of weather-beaten cottages, my hands are trembling. I tell myself it’s the jet lag. But I know it’s not.
Her house sits near the edge of a cliff, framed by wind-warped trees. There’s a small studio attached, windows open to the sea. Through the glass, I catch a glimpse of her standing at an easel, hair tied back, brush moving in slow, steady strokes.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
She’s older time has softened her edges. Her hair is lighter, her frame thinner, but the way she holds herself that quiet focus is exactly the same.
I take a step closer, gravel crunching underfoot. Her head lifts. Our eyes meet through the window. The brush slips from her hand and hits the floor.
She’s at the door before I can knock, her face pale, hands shaking. For a moment, she looks like she’s seeing a ghost.
“Dominic.”
My name leaves her lips like a confession.
“Elia.” It’s all I can manage.
She backs up a step. “No. Don’t call me that.”
“Elena, then,” I say quietly. “I just needed to see you.”
Her eyes dart toward the road, the sea, anywhere but me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?” Her voice trembles “You weren’t supposed to find me. I made sure of that.”
I swallow hard. “I got your message.”
Her eyes widen. “You got….” She stops herself, exhales sharply, pressing a hand to her chest. “Then you knew. And you still came?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because I never stopped loving you. Because I’ve spent years haunted by your absence. Because I needed to know if you were real.
But the words feel selfish, so I say the only thing that sounds remotely honest:
“Because I couldn’t live with not knowing.”
She closes her eyes for a long moment, then opens the door wider. “Five minutes,” she says. “Then you leave.”
Inside, the house smells like turpentine and salt. Canvases lean against the walls  landscapes, waves, faces half-formed and fading into mist. She moves with quiet precision, as if every gesture has been rehearsed.
I watch her from the doorway, trying not to intrude on her space. “You look well.”
“That’s what hiding does,” she says softly. “It keeps you safe enough to heal.”
“Elia…Elena,” I correct myself. “I thought you were dead. I buried you. Do you understand what that did to me? ”
Her expression falters. “I do.”
“Then why…” My voice breaks before I can finish. “Why did you do it?”
She sets her brush down carefully, then turns to face me. “Because I couldn’t breathe anymore.”
Her eyes glisten, but her voice stays steady. 
“That’s not…” I start, but the look in her eyes stops me cold.
“You didn’t mean to,” she says. “ I was drowning. And when Stanley offered a way out…”
Her voice breaks then, tears spilling over. “I took it. I thought if I disappeared, you could be free too. But then he twisted it used me to destroy you. I didn’t know until it was too late.”
The room feels smaller, the air heavier.
“You could have called,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “No. If I’d reached out, I’d have gone back. And I wasn’t strong enough to survive that again.”
We stand there in silence, two people held together by everything unsaid.
Outside, the waves crash against the cliffs, relentless and beautiful.
I close my eyes, the sting behind them impossible to hold back. “I never meant to…”
“I know.” She smiles sadly. “But love isn’t always enough. Not when it costs one of us ourselves.”
She reaches out, hesitates, then touches my arm just briefly, just enough to feel real. “You found me. You can stop searching now.”
I nod, though it feels like a lie. “And what happens now?”
She looks away, toward the window, where the sea reflects a fading gold. “Now you go home. Live your life. Let me live mine.”
I want to protest. I want to ask for one more day, one more hour, one more chance to rewrite what went wrong. But when I see the quiet resolve in her face, I know it’s not a request, it’s mercy.
I swallow hard. “Does it make any difference that I never stopped loving you?”
Her eyes meet mine, soft and unflinching. “It makes all the difference in the world,” she says. “But it doesn’t change what I need.”
I walk to the door slowly, feeling the pull of every step. She follows me halfway, then stops.
The wind outside has picked up, scattering petals from the potted lavender by her porch. The ocean roars below us, endless and wild.
When I turn back, she’s framed in the doorway her face half in shadow, half in light.
“Goodbye, Dominic,” she whispers.
I want to say see you soon, but that would be another lie. So instead, I nod once, the ache in my chest too heavy for words.
“Goodbye, Elia.”
By the time I reach the car, the sun has slipped behind the cliffs. I sit there for a long while, the sound of the surf filling the silence she left behind.
She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s free and for the first time, I understand maybe that has to be enough.