CHAPTER 28
1114 Words
“I Choose You.”
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Hazel’s POV
Morning – Mia’s Apartment
The early morning sun filtered through the light cream curtains, spilling gentle rays across my face. There was a softness in the air, a quiet that felt almost sacred—like the world itself was holding its breath.
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, the memory of where I was settling in one piece at a time.
Mia’s guest room.
Mira’s bunny plush was tucked under my chin. The faint smell of pancakes lingered in the sheets, a reminder of safety.
But my chest? My chest still ached with the heaviness of yesterday.
The kiss.
That woman.
And then… the truth.
I sat up in bed, my fingers curling around the edge of the blanket. Was it real—what Alex said? Was he telling the truth? Had he truly waited, like Raymond said?
I tiptoed into the hallway, the hardwood floor cool against my bare feet.
I didn’t know what I expected.
But I didn’t expect this.
There he was.
Still wearing the same shirt from yesterday, now wrinkled and creased. His tie had been discarded, his sleeves rolled up. He sat rigidly on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, head bowed. His eyes—bloodshot, hollow. And he didn’t move. Not even when I approached the living room.
He looked like a man who hadn’t slept. Who couldn’t.
And my heart squeezed painfully in my chest.
My phone buzzed softly in my hand.
Raymond:
He refused to leave. Said he wasn’t going anywhere until you forgave him. Said he’d wait however long it took.
My hand flew to my mouth.
He waited.
All night?
Alone?
Without any certainty that I’d even speak to him again?
My throat tightened as I turned away, stepping silently into the kitchen. My hands moved on autopilot, searching the cabinets, filling a clean mug with warm milk. It felt like such a small thing to offer after what we’d been through, but I didn’t care.
He needed comfort. Not answers. Not confrontation. Not yet.
Just something warm.
I padded softly into the living room and gently placed the mug on the table in front of him.
He startled.
His head jerked up. “Hazel…”
His voice—rough, broken. Like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Like he didn’t trust his own ability to speak without falling apart.
I didn’t say a word.
I just sat beside him.
The couch dipped under my weight, but we didn’t touch. The air between us was thick, heavy with everything unspoken.
I finally broke the silence. “You really waited?”
He nodded, slowly. “I couldn’t leave. Not unless you told me it was over. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t… function. Not knowing if I’d lost you.”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
He looked defeated.
And still, his voice carried that familiar steel. Even at his lowest, there was something solid in him. Grounded. Unshakable.
I picked up the mug, pressed it into his hands. “It’s just warm milk. But I thought it might help.”
Our fingers brushed.
He held the cup like it was made of glass. “Thank you.”
We sat in silence again. But this time… it wasn’t painful.
It was quiet. Restorative.
“I’ve never had someone do that for me,” I whispered eventually. “Stay. Wait. Fight.”
He turned to me, brows drawn together. “Most guys would’ve gone home,” I said. “They’d move on. Make excuses. Call it a misunderstanding.”
“I’m not most guys.”
“I know.”
I looked down at our hands—so close.
“You’re the cold CEO everyone fears,” I murmured. “The one they call emotionless. Untouchable. But last night… you stayed. You waited. You told me your truth. Even when it made you vulnerable.”
He lowered his head, lips parting like he was about to speak—then stopped.
I continued, “I’ve been so scared of falling. Of trusting. Of opening up again.”
I turned to him fully.
“But I realized something last night. You weren’t the only one afraid.”
He raised his eyes slowly.
“I’ve been hiding behind what ifs. But not anymore.”
I reached out, took his hand, and laced our fingers together.
“I choose you, Alexander Knight. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s complicated. Even when I’m scared out of my mind—I choose you.”
A shaky breath left his lips. Then he laughed softly, almost disbelievingly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”
His smile broke through all his walls. It wasn’t charming. It wasn’t rehearsed. It was pure. Beautiful. Real.
He pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something breakable but treasured.
Like he never wanted to let go.
“I promise, Hazel,” he whispered against my hair. “I’ll never let anything come between us again.”
I nodded into his chest. “Let’s go home.”
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Later That Day — Alexander’s Penthouse
Home.
Funny how a place so sleek, so cold before… now felt warm. Like it remembered laughter. Like it had us in its walls now.
Alex ordered breakfast in bed. We curled under thick blankets, trays full of croissants, eggs, and fruit between us, our feet tangling beneath the covers.
He showed me sketches of a house he’d designed years ago. Not for a client. Not for business.
Just… a dream.
He pointed at the large windows, the sunroom, the reading nook in the corner.
“I never knew why I added that nook,” he said. “Now I do.”
I smiled, running my fingers over the drawing. “You dreamed of a future. Even when you pretended you didn’t believe in one.”
He nodded, watching me instead of the blueprint.
I leaned against his shoulder.
Later, he opened up more about Vassane. Her manipulation. The lies. The heartbreak. The humiliation of loving someone who saw him as nothing but a ladder.
I listened.
Not to reopen wounds—but to learn. To understand the scars he never showed.
Because loving someone wasn’t just about the present—it was accepting their past too.
By late afternoon, the shadows of yesterday had faded. Replaced by soft touches. Whispered promises. Lingering glances.
No longer haunted. Just healing.
He wasn't perfect.
Neither was I.
But somehow, we fit—like jagged pieces that only made sense when joined together.
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To Be Continued…
Hazel chose love over fear
Alex chose truth over pride
- Writer
