One year later, the penthouse no longer felt like a fortress.
It felt like a home.
Not because the windows were less expansive or the art was less expensive, but because Mira’s things existed in it without apology: her books stacked messily on the side table, her running shoes by the door, a half-finished prototype sketch on the kitchen island.
Theo’s presence threaded through it too—quiet, steady—like he’d stopped performing invulnerability and started practicing peace.
Mira stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, adjusting an earring with trembling fingers.
Theo came up behind her, hands settling on her hips. “You’re going to make a terrifying bride.”
Mira huffed a laugh. “Your mother already told me I look ‘adequately elegant.’”
Theo’s mouth twitched. “High praise.”
Mira leaned back into him. “I still don’t know if she likes me.”
Theo’s lips brushed her shoulder. “She respects you. That’s her version of liking.”
Mira turned her head. “And your board?”
Theo’s gaze went distant for a beat, then returned with quiet satisfaction. “They’re behaving. Governance is cleaner now. My mother’s resignation forced a reset. Investors like stability. Turns out, not having family coups helps.”
Mira exhaled slowly. “And Ethan?”
Theo’s jaw tightened slightly, reflexive. “Pled out. Probation. Fines. Court-mandated counseling. Civil settlement. And a permanent protective order.”
Mira’s chest tightened, not with fear this time—closure. “So it’s done.”
Theo’s voice was low. “He’s done.”
A knock came at the door—Imani, voice dry. “Five minutes, you two.”
Mira laughed softly, nerves buzzing.
Theo turned her gently to face him. “Hey.”
Mira met his gaze.
Theo’s expression was calm, but his eyes were warm in a way that still startled her. “You’re safe.”
Mira swallowed. “I know.”
Theo’s thumb brushed her cheekbone—the same gesture that had once anchored her after humiliation, now just affection. “You’re loved.”
Mira’s throat tightened. “I know that too.”
Theo kissed her—slow, grounding—and Mira let it steady her, the way she’d learned to do with him: not as escape, but as truth.
Downstairs, the ceremony wasn’t a spectacle. No giant press. No branded charity gala. No stage.
Just a garden at Mrs. Reyes’s home—green, quiet, guarded—filled with people who mattered.
Mira’s parents sat in the front row, her mother dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her father holding her hand like he’d just learned he could.
Mrs. Reyes sat beside them, posture still precise—but when Mira met her gaze, she saw something softened there, something like recognition.
Theo waited at the front, hands clasped, jaw tight with emotion he didn’t bother hiding anymore.
When Mira walked toward him, the world narrowed.
Not to cameras.
Not to gossip.
To Theo’s eyes.
He took her hands, and his fingers trembled.
Mira smiled through her own shaking breath. “You’re nervous.”
Theo’s mouth tightened. “I’m grateful.”
The vows were simple. Honest.
Mira didn’t promise perfection. She promised choice.
“I choose you,” she said, voice steady, “even when the world is loud. Even when fear returns. Even when your name attracts storms. I choose you because with you, I’m not small.”
Theo’s breath shuddered.
When Theo spoke, his voice was low and clear. “I choose you without terms. Without contracts. Without exit plans. I will defend you, but I will never cage you. I will love you like you’re free—because you are.”
Mira’s eyes burned.
The officiant spoke the final words. Theo slid the ring onto her finger with deliberate care.
Then Theo kissed her—real, unmistakable, the kind of kiss that didn’t need witnesses but didn’t mind them either.
Applause rose around them like warmth.
Later, after dinner and quiet laughter and Mrs. Reyes offering Mira a single, stiff sentence—“You did well today”—Theo and Mira escaped to the terrace overlooking the gardens.
The air was cool. The lights below glowed softly.
Mira leaned against the railing, watching her parents talk with Imani like they’d known her forever.
Theo came behind her, arms circling her waist. “Mrs. Reyes threatened the caterer twice.”
Mira laughed softly. “That’s her love language.”
Theo’s mouth brushed her temple. “She told me something.”
Mira turned slightly. “What?”
Theo’s gaze was warm. “She said, ‘Don’t lose her. She’s the first person who’s made you softer without making you weak.’”
Mira’s throat tightened. “She said that?”
Theo nodded once. “She did.”
Mira exhaled, leaning back into him. “We earned this.”
Theo’s arms tightened. “We did.”
Mira looked down at her ring—simple, elegant, chosen together.
Then she looked up at the sky, a deep velvet stretch above the estate.
“Do you ever miss the contract?” she asked quietly.
Theo’s laugh was low, soft. “No.”
Mira turned her head to meet his gaze. “Me neither.”
Theo kissed her again, slow and certain.
And for the first time in a long time, Mira didn’t feel like she was bracing for impact.
She felt like she was building a life.
With no clauses.
No countdown.
Just choice—again and again—made into forever.