Kier couldn’t sit still. The plane hummed steadily as it cut through the clouds, but his mind was in a spiral of thoughts. His elbows pressed against the cold metal of the armrest, fingers twitching as he stared blankly out the window.
Erika.}
He closed his eyes for a moment, and the memories came rushing back.}
Her smile on their wedding day, nervous but genuine. The late–night talks while feeding their newborn son, Arthur. The way she would fall asleep beside him, trusting, warm, constant. The time they promised to grow old together. “Let’s stay simple,” she had said once, holding his hand. “I don’t want diamonds. I just want peace.“>
Peace. He had shattered it.
In the silence of the plane, he slipped into a half–sleep, dreaming of her again. She was standing at the garden gate, waving at him, the wind tugging at her hair. “You promised you’d come back before dark,” she teased. Then the image shifted. Erika, alone, folding laundry. Erika crying on the couch. Erika at the stove, ignored.
Then–darkness.
He jerked awake, breath caught in his throat.
The pilot’s voice rang out overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve landed. Welcome back.“}
Kier shot up from his seat. He didn’t wait. He barely remembered to grab his luggage. In his head, he saw her again. Maybe she’s home. Maybe I can fix this.
The ride from the airport to their house felt endless. Traffic blurred past, but he didn’t care. His hands were sweating.
The moment he arrived, he slammed the car door and rushed toward the house. Fumbling with his keys, he threw the front door open.
“Erika!” he shouted, “Erika, I’m home!“>
Silence.
He stepped inside, eyes darting to the living room. Nothing.”
“Where are you?” he yelled again, this time louder. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?!“}
He stormed upstairs, two steps at a time, heart racing.
He opened her bedroom door–and froze.}
Empty.”
The drawers were bare. The closet hangers clinked softly, empty. Her perfume was gone. Her books, gone. Her suitcase, of course–gone.”
He staggered back, staring in disbelief. “No… no, no, no…“}
He started throwing open every drawer, every cabinet, desperate. A photo frame shattered as he knocked it off the nightstand. Her scarves. Her slippers. Her ring dish. All gone.}
“Erika!” he screamed. “Come back!“}
He punched the doorframe. His voice cracked. “I can fix this. Just… answer the phone. Please.”}
He called again. Voicemail.}
Again. Nothing.”
His throat burned as he stomped downstairs, pacing in the kitchen like a man losing his grip. Then he saw it.”
A white envelope, neatly placed on the table.}
He picked it up with shaking hands.
Inside: the signed divorce papers. And her wedding ring.”
A strangled noise escaped him as he sank into the chair. He hadn’t expected her to mean it. Divorce? Erika? She had always forgiven him.”
He read the signature again. Her name. Her decision.”
“No,” he whispered. “You can’t just leave.”
He grabbed his phone. “Call Joseph,” he barked at his assistant. “Call the driver. Call everyone–find her. I want every airport checked. I want to know where she is.”?
He called his butler. “Is she hiding somewhere? Is she staying with anyone? Find her. I don’t care what it takes.“}
But he never heard the answer that mattered.”
Because Erika was already in Paris.
She had arrived just that morning.”
She stood quietly outside the small venue near Montmartre, holding a bouquet of soft white peonies. Her dress flowed gently in the wind, a simple ivory gown she had chosen herself. Around her, the world moved. Tourists passed. Locals chatted. But inside her, everything was sull
She looked at her reflection in the glass doors. For a moment, she almost turned away.!!
But then the music began.
Enka took a breath, straightened her back, and walked down the aisle alone.
The ceremony was brief, symbolic, and quiet. No crowd. No groom. Just her.
12:32 PM S
་་ས༠ པ་་ཅI, བy་་དམིཔ་་ཅད སiiཔ Hས་ཁོ་་ ད་པཅ་པ་་ས. ་་པ 9་པས་་I, པསo་ ་ICI.
She placed a ring on her own finger, whispered promises to herself, and smiled through tears.
“I choose you,” she said aloud, her voice trembling. “I choose peace. I choose freedom. I choose me.”}
And in that moment, it was enough.
When the music faded, she turned to walk back down the aisle, the train of her dress trailing behind her like a ribbon of old pain finally cut loose.
And then–she noticed him.
A man stood at the back of the small chapel, leaning casually by the doorway. He was tall, suited, and clearly not a tourist. His eyes had been on her the entire time.
He clapped once, softly, before stepping forward.
“What a lovely bride,” he said with a gentle smile. “What do you think about having me as your groom? For real.“}
Erika blinked.§
And for the first time in years… she laughed.
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