Chapter 8: Two Sides

A year after the launch of Unbound, I stood in the same bridal shop where Anton had once handed my dream gown to Lina.

Everything had changed.

The old display cabinets were gone.

The VIP room had been redesigned.

And across the main wall, in understated gold lettering, were the words Emilia Vale Bridal.

My name.

My collection.

My life.

The store manager approached with a tablet.

"The Paris numbers are in. We sold out the limited pieces in four hours."

"Four?"

"Three hours and fifty-two minutes, technically."

I smiled.

"Let's pretend it was four. Sounds less frightening."

She laughed and walked away.

I turned toward the display window.

A bride was standing on the sidewalk staring at one of my gowns.

Her fiancé stood beside her, listening enthusiastically while she pointed out every detail she liked.

I smiled.

Once, I had stood outside this same window alone.

I had imagined Anton beside me.

I had imagined him looking at me the way that man looked at his fiancée.

It had taken me years to understand that wanting someone to become the person you needed wasn't the same as being loved by them.

"You're daydreaming again."

Hector's voice came from behind me.

I turned.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I own this building."

"That's not work."

"I delegated."

He handed me a small box.

I immediately narrowed my eyes.

"What's that?"

"Open it."

"Hector."

"It's not a ring."

"You said that suspiciously quickly."

I opened the box.

Inside was a key.

"What's this?"

"The studio next door."

I stared at him.

"You bought it?"

"You complained you needed more fitting space."

"I was going to lease it."

"Now you can lease it from me."

I laughed.

"At market rate?"

"Above market rate. I have shareholders."

"You're impossible."

"And yet you keep having dinner with me."

That was true.

Hector and I had never rushed to define whatever existed between us.

After Anton, I had no interest in walking directly from one engagement into another relationship.

Hector understood.

He never demanded answers.

Never treated patience as a transaction.

We worked.

We argued.

We traveled.

We ate terrible airport food.

Sometimes he kissed me.

Sometimes I kissed him first.

There was no promise of forever hanging over every moment.

Strangely, that made every moment feel more honest.

"Dinner tonight?" he asked.

"I have a meeting until seven."

"Eight?"

"Eight-thirty."

"Done."

He started walking away.

"Hector."

He looked back.

"Thank you."

"For the studio?"

"For asking when I'm free instead of deciding I should be."

His expression softened.

"That's a very low standard."

"You'd be surprised."

He left.

Later that afternoon, my assistant told me someone had requested a private appointment.

"Who?"

She hesitated.

"Lina Kingston."

I looked up.

"She says it's about a gown."

For a moment, I considered refusing.

Then I said, "Treat her like any other customer."

When I entered the consultation room, Lina was waiting alone.

She stood when she saw me.

"Hi."

"Hello."

She looked healthier than the last time I had seen her.

Quieter too.

"I'm getting married."

I paused.

"Congratulations."

"For real this time."

"That's usually how marriage works."

She gave a nervous laugh.

"His name is Daniel. He's a teacher."

I nodded.

"What kind of gown are you looking for?"

Her eyes flickered with surprise at my professionalism.

"Something simple."

"Budget?"

She told me.

It was modest.

Nothing like the extravagant gowns from her fake weddings.

I showed her several designs.

Eventually, she chose one with clean lines and almost no embellishment.

"This one," she said.

"Good choice."

Before leaving, Lina stopped at the door.

"Emilia."

I looked up.

"I'm in therapy."

I didn't respond.

"I realized I kept creating situations where people had to rescue me because being rescued made me feel important."

Her fingers tightened around her bag.

"That doesn't excuse what I did."

"No."

"I know."

She smiled faintly.

"I just wanted you to know I'm trying not to be that person anymore."

"Good."

She nodded.

"Will you design the gown yourself?"

"No."

Her expression dimmed slightly.

"But one of my designers will take good care of you."

"I understand."

This time, she really did.

At the door, she looked back.

"Anton never got married."

I felt almost nothing.

"Okay."

"I thought you might want to know."

"I don't."

She nodded once and left.

Anton had become a story other people occasionally tried to tell me.

A mutual friend said he had buried himself in work.

Someone else said he sold his Rolls-Royce because seeing wedding convoys made him miserable.

Another claimed he kept my old engagement ring locked in his desk.

I never checked whether any of it was true.

Regret belonged to the person carrying it.

His was no longer my responsibility.

That evening, I left the store later than expected.

Hector was waiting outside.

"You're late."

"You're early."

"That's one way to avoid apologizing."

I smiled.

We walked toward the restaurant instead of taking the car.

Halfway there, we passed a hotel.

Music drifted through the open doors.

A wedding reception was underway.

I stopped.

For a second, I saw another ballroom.

Lina in my gown.

Anton beside her.

Me carrying the veil.

Then the memory passed.

"You okay?" Hector asked.

"Yeah."

I looked through the doors.

The bride and groom were dancing badly and laughing about it.

"It's strange."

"What is?"

"For years, I thought getting married was the ending I was waiting for."

"And now?"

"Now I think choosing the right life matters more than choosing the right wedding."

Hector nodded solemnly.

"Excellent. Weddings are expensive."

I elbowed him.

"You ruin everything."

"Consistently."

We continued walking.

Six months later, Hector took me back to the first studio where I had tried on the gown made from my sketch.

The room was empty except for that same dress.

"Why is this here?" I asked.

"You never used it for the collection."

"It was personal."

"Exactly."

He reached into his pocket.

I stared at him.

"You told me there wasn't a ring last time."

"There wasn't last time."

"Hector Gray."

"Emilia Vale."

He held up the box but didn't open it.

"Before you panic, I'm not asking you to put on that gown."

"Good."

"I'm also not asking you to marry me today."

I blinked.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Giving you two sides of the same choice."

He opened the box.

Inside was a simple diamond ring.

Beautiful.

Elegant.

And unmistakably my size.

My throat tightened.

"Side one," Hector said. "You say yes, and whenever you're ready, we get married."

"And side two?"

"You say no, we go downstairs, have dinner, and tomorrow I annoy you about production costs exactly as usual."

I stared at him.

"That's your proposal?"

"I'm a businessman. I believe in clearly defined terms."

I laughed so suddenly tears filled my eyes.

Hector smiled.

"No pressure. No deadline. No audience."

He held the box toward me.

"And no assumption that you have no other choice."

That sentence made me still.

Ten years earlier, Anton had believed I would always stay.

He had treated my love like a contract I could never terminate.

Hector was standing in front of me offering the exact opposite.

A choice.

I looked at the ring.

Then at the gown.

Then at him.

"You know something?"

"What?"

"Your proposal needs work."

"That's unfortunate. I didn't prepare a second draft."

"But I'll accept it."

For once, Hector Gray looked genuinely speechless.

"You're saying yes?"

"I'm saying yes."

"You should probably clarify before I embarrass myself."

I held out my hand.

"Yes, Hector."

He slid the ring onto my finger.

It fit perfectly.

I looked down at it and smiled.

Not because it was more expensive than Anton's ring.

Not because Hector had remembered my size.

Not even because I was finally going to become someone's bride.

It mattered because I had chosen this.

Months later, our wedding was small.

There was no fleet of Maybachs.

No fifteen-foot veil.

No ballroom full of strangers.

I wore the gown I had designed for myself.

Hector waited at the end of the aisle.

And for the first time in my life, there was no other woman standing between me and the man waiting there.

Before I reached him, I noticed someone standing far beyond the garden gates.

Anton.

He wore a dark suit.

He didn't approach.

He didn't interrupt.

Our eyes met across the distance.

He smiled sadly.

Then he turned and walked away.

I watched him for only a second.

Hector held out his hand.

I took it.

Anton and I had once looked at love from two completely different sides.

I believed ten years together meant we should protect what we had.

He believed ten years together meant I would never leave.

By the time he understood the difference, I was already gone.

Perhaps that was why some people only recognize love when they lose it.

And perhaps that was why leaving wasn't always the end of a love story.

Sometimes it was the beginning of a better one.

The officiant asked me the question.

I looked at Hector.

This time, nobody was answering for me.

Nobody assumed what I would choose.

I smiled.

"I do."