Later that evening, the mansion was quiet. Ethan had dropped her ho from the gallery; she was glad none of her brothers were around, and none of them saw Ethan.
Mara sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hadn’t opened the letter yet. It sat in her lap, folded neatly, its corners slightly creased from being held so tightly by Ethan. She hadn’t looked at it until now. Part of her was scared of what it might say. Part of her just didn’t know if she was ready to feel what it might stir.
But she couldn’t let it sit there forever, she had made up her mind, what could change?
With a slow, deliberate motion, Mara unfolded the paper. The ink was handwritten, neat but hurried in so places, as if Ethan had written it in a rush, but had paused often to make sure each word was just right.
She read the first line:
"I don’t have a perfect way to start this, but I need you to know sothing. Every mistake I made—every mont I doubted you, every hurtful word I said to you haunts . And I don’t know how to fix that. But I’m willing to try."
Her heart tightened. She swallowed, fighting the tears that burned the back of her throat. She could feel the weight of every word. She didn’t want to cry, not now—not yet—but it was so hard not to, especially when the words felt so raw, so honest.
She continued reading.
"I used to think that love was just a word I could say when things were good. But it’s not. It’s sothing that takes work, effort, and care and I failed you in all of those areas. I didn’t show you that. I didn’t show you the man I could be, the man I want to be for you, for us, and for the babies we’re bringing into this world. Not making excuses but I had a problem with trust, I thought I did trust you but I realized I didn’t. I understand you don’t want and you don’t trust . You shouldn’t. But I’m asking—no, begging—for a chance to prove that I can be soone worthy of your love at least just for the next three months before the divorce is finalized, I will do all that I can and if you still want the divorce I won’t fight it and I won’t stop fighting for a place in your life either."
Her fingers trembled as she read, her breath shallow. Each sentence felt like it was peeling back layers of her heart that she’d spent so long hiding, so long protecting from the person who had once shattered it.
But there was sothing in his words that felt different—sothing that reminded her of the Ethan she had once loved. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the grand apology she’d imagined—but it was real. Vulnerable. Sincere.
She took a steadying breath and read the final lines.
"I know I don’t deserve forgiveness and please don’t ever forgive , but I hope you’ll let prove that I can be better by your side. You’ve always been my ho, Mara. And if you’ll let , I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I an it."
Mara sat there for a long mont after finishing the letter, the paper still held loosely in her hands. The room was silent except for her heartbeat, which thudded in her chest. The babies kicked again, a gentle reminder of what was at stake here, of how much had changed—and how much could still change.
She let the tears fall then. She didn’t stop them. She didn’t try to control them. For the first ti in months, Mara allowed herself to feel every emotion she’d been pushing aside for so long—grief, confusion, longing, love.
When her tears had finally quieted, she placed the letter on the nightstand and stood. She moved toward the window, her hand resting on the cool glass, gazing out into the garden below.
Her heart felt heavy. So heavy. But for the first ti, it didn’t feel weighed down by anger or loss. It just felt... full.
She wasn’t ready to make any decisions. Not yet. But as she stood there, staring out at the flowers blooming in the dark, Mara realized sothing. Maybe she didn’t have to have everything figured out right now.
Maybe she could take her ti.
Maybe she could heal—slowly. And maybe, just maybe, Ethan could find his way back to her heart. Or not. Either way, she knew one thing for certain.
She deserved peace.
But how do you reach peace when every direction leads to war?
She didn’t want to decide based on what her brothers would say. God knew they ant well, but their love ca wrapped in loud opinions and unshakable pride. She didn’t want to make choices through the lens of their anger or their expectations. She was no longer just their little sister. She was a woman now. A woman with a future to shape, and two lives growing inside her.
That thought alone stopped her breath sotis.
Two lives.
She placed a hand on her belly, feeling the soft curve there. Twenty years old and carrying two tiny heartbeats. It still didn’t feel real. Sotis, when she was alone, she would look down and whisper to them, tell them stories, and apologize for the storm they were being born into. She was terrified. Not of being a mother—at least, not entirely—but of failing them. Of doing this alone. Of the space where Ethan used to be.
Ethan.
She hated that his na still lingered in her chest like an echo. He had made her feel everything at once—loved, seen, wanted. And then, suddenly, invisible. Just like that.
She never expected to fall for him. But when it happened, it swept through her like wildfire. Quick, consuming, beautiful. She told herself she could do without him. That she deserved better. That love should not leave bruises on the soul.
Still... she never claid she was innocent either.
She had brought Maria-Isabel into their lives, hadn’t she? She had opened the door. She should have seen it coming. Maybe not exactly this—but sothing. She should have helped her from a distance. Found her a job, a place to stay, anything but placing her right at the heart of her ho. At the feet of her husband.
She had been naive.
But she hadn’t betrayed Ethan. Not the way he had betrayed them.
And yet... her heart still reached for him in the dark. Still rembered the warmth of his touch from earlier, still felt the way his hand had grazed hers like a question left unanswered. It was maddening. The ache of what once was and the sha of still wanting it.
What did she want?
She didn’t know. God, she didn’t know.
She felt like she was standing at the edge of sothing—maybe a new beginning, maybe a mistake. And every path was littered with voices. Her brothers, shouting over one another, telling her to be strong, to forget him, to protect her children. Lucy and Alya’s presence also threatens everything. And then there was her voice, small and unsure, buried under the noise, begging to be heard.
The cramp hit her hard and sharp. She gasped, curling slightly, one hand pressing into her side as the pain rippled through her. She reached for the dication on the nightstand with shaking fingers.
Not now. Not like this.
She needed rest. She needed space. But more than anything, she needed ti. Ti to figure out who she was outside of everyone else’s opinions. Ti to figure out if letting Ethan back in was an act of forgiveness or weakness.
She knew one of her brothers would find her soon—Stanley, maybe, with his quiet eyes and thunderous judgnt. Or Stefan, all fire and fury, heart on his sleeve. They would ask the question she didn’t have an answer to yet:
Is he coming back?
And she would have to choose. Not just for herself, but for her babies. For the future.
But what if—for once—she chose based on her?
Not logic. Not fear. Not pride. No pressure.
What if she did what worked for her?
She laid back, eyes closed, arms wrapped around her belly. Outside the room, life moved forward.
Inside, she was still wondering if she ever fought for her marriage, maybe she did she was willing to forgive Ethan for Maria-Isabel God knows she tried, and before she could Lucy’s manipulations set him making Ethan doubt her and hurt her again. That was his second chance, should she give him another chance to hurt her again for the third ti?
The question remained. The answer? Still forming. Her diary still sitting beside the letter from Ethan she was too tired to put them away.
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