Updated Feb 14, 2026 • ~10 min read
[ASPEN POV – Six Weeks After Wedding]
Marius was at Marshall’s office. Final prep for court hearing next week. Evidence review. Testimony preparation. The beginning of actual legal battle.
I was alone in apartment. Working on Mom’s clinical trial paperwork. Transfer scheduled for two weeks. Hope. Real hope. First time in years.
The knock was authoritative. Commanding. Wrong.
I checked peephole.
Octavian Khatri. Marius’s father. Tall. Stern. Every inch the CEO. The man who’d built empire. The man who’d disowned his son.
What was he doing here?
I opened the door. “Mr. Khatri.”
“Ms. Colby.” He studied me. Cold assessment. “May I come in? I’d like to speak with you. Privately.”
Every instinct screamed danger. But curiosity won. “Marius isn’t here.”
“I know. I waited until he left. This conversation is—between us.”
I let him in. Watched him take in the apartment with barely concealed distaste. This space his son had chosen over mansion. Over wealth. Over—everything Octavian valued.
“Would you like tea?” I asked. Ridiculous hospitality. But automatic.
“No. This won’t take long.” He remained standing. Dominating the small space. “I’m here to make you offer. One hundred thousand pounds. Cash. Immediately available. In exchange for—you leaving my son.”
The words hung in tiny apartment.
One hundred thousand pounds.
£100,000.
I couldn’t breathe.
“You want to pay me to leave him.”
“Yes. Clean break. You disappear. Move away. Different city. Different life. Leave Marius alone to—rebuild. To return to family. To resume his proper life.”
“His proper life that he chose to leave.”
“His temporary rebellion that he’ll regret eventually. You’re—you’re convenient right now. Shared trauma. Crisis bonding. But that fades. And when it does, he’ll resent you. Resent giving up everything for—this.” Gesture encompassing apartment, me, everything.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know my son. I know he’s dutiful. Loyal. He feels responsible for you. Feels obligated. That’s not love. That’s—guilt. And guilt is terrible foundation for relationship. Eventually he’ll realize that. Will want to leave. But he won’t. Because he’s too noble. Too—trapped by his own sense of obligation. You’d be doing him favor. Leaving now. Before he wastes more years on obligation disguised as love.”
The words struck deep. Because they echoed my own fears.
Was Marius with me from love? Or obligation? Or guilt that I’d risked everything for his escape?
“One hundred thousand,” Octavian continued. “That’s—life-changing money for someone in your position. Your mother’s care for three years. Fully covered. Student loans paid off completely. Space to—start over. Somewhere new. Somewhere media won’t find you. Somewhere you can build life without—scandal and lawsuits and association with family that doesn’t want you.”
He wasn’t wrong. £100,000 would solve—everything. Every financial problem. Every desperate calculation. Every—
Every reason I’d crashed the wedding in the first place.
“Why now?” I asked. “Why offer this now instead of six weeks ago?”
“Because I thought you’d leave on your own. Thought—scandal and lawsuit and difficulty would drive you away naturally. But you stayed. You and Marius seem—committed. To this impossible situation. To each other. And that needs to end. Before he destroys himself completely for you.”
“I’m not making him do anything.”
“Aren’t you? You’re the reason he’s disowned. The reason he’s broke. The reason he’s—living in this.” Again the dismissive gesture. “You didn’t force him. But your presence creates obligation. Creates—guilt that keeps him trapped here when he could have everything back. If you just—left.”
“He chose this.”
“He chose crisis bonding. He chose rebellion against family. He chose—temporary insanity. Not permanent life. Not—you. Not really. When crisis ends, when lawsuit settles, when life normalizes—he’ll see that. See you’re not what he wants long-term. You’re just—phase. Reaction. Temporary escape.”
Every word was knife. Every word was—
Was fear I already had.
That this wasn’t real. That Marius was with me from obligation. That when chaos ended, he’d leave. Would realize I wasn’t worth everything he’d sacrificed. Would—
Would see me clearly and leave.
“Think about it,” Octavian said. “Practically. Rationally. One hundred thousand pounds. Your mother cared for. Your debts cleared. Your life—rebuilt. Somewhere new. Somewhere better. All you have to do is leave. Is let him return to life he’s meant for. Is—is stop being obstacle to his future.”
Obstacle. That’s what I was. Obstacle between Marius and everything he deserved.
“I need to think,” I said. Voice hollow.
“Of course. But Aspen—decide quickly. This offer expires in forty-eight hours. After that—I fight to destroy you completely. Marshall Lang’s evidence. Porter’s testimony. Rhys’s documents. I have resources they don’t. I can tie this up in courts for years. Can make your life—unbearable. Or—or you can take the money. Take the escape. Take the—the solution to everything.”
After he left, I sat on couch staring at nothing.
£100,000.
Three years of Mom’s care. Plus student loans cleared. Plus—
Plus life without Marius. Life without chaos. Life—
Life alone again. But financially stable. But—safe. In ways I hadn’t been safe in years.
Was that worth it?
Was Marius worth poverty and lawsuits and media siege and—everything?
Yes. Obviously yes. I loved him. I—
But did he love me? Or did he feel obligated? Trapped by guilt? Staying because leaving would prove his father right? Staying because—
Because I’d crashed his wedding and destroyed my life and he felt responsible?
The door opened. Marius. Home early. “Aspen? I forgot the deposition file—” He saw my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Your father was here.”
He went still. “When?”
“An hour ago. He made—he made me an offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“One hundred thousand pounds. To leave you. To disappear. To—to let you return to your family and rebuild your life without me.”
Silence. Heavy. Terrible.
“Did you take it?” he asked quietly.
“I—I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”
“Thinking about it.” Not angry. Just—hurt. “You’re considering leaving me for money.”
“It’s not just money. It’s—it’s solution to everything. Mom’s care. My debts. Your life back. Your family back. You—getting everything you sacrificed back. Without me being obstacle. Without—”
“Without you.” He sat down. Far from me. Distance between us. “That’s what you think you are? Obstacle?”
“Aren’t I? You gave up everything for me. Wealth. Family. Future. You’re—you’re broke and disowned and fighting lawsuit because of me. Because I crashed your wedding and dragged you into this and—”
“And gave me choice,” he interrupted. “And freed me. And loved me. And—and became my family when my blood family failed. You didn’t drag me anywhere. I chose. Every step. Every sacrifice. Every—everything. I chose you.”
“But what if that choice was—guilt? Obligation? Crisis bonding that feels like love but isn’t? What if your father’s right? What if—”
“What if you’re afraid?” He moved closer. “What if you’re terrified that this is real and real things can be lost? What if you’re looking for excuse to run before I leave you? Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Self-sabotage. Leaving before being left. Because—because you don’t believe anyone would stay. Would choose you. Would—love you. Really love you.”
The words broke something. Or exposed something. The wound I’d been protecting.
“No one stays,” I whispered. “My dad died. My mom forgot me. Every job fired me. Every—everyone leaves eventually. Why would you be different?”
“Because I’m choosing to stay. Every day. Every moment. Despite everything. I’m choosing you. Not obligation. Not guilt. Not—crisis bonding. You. Aspen. The woman I love. The woman I want to build life with. The woman who’s—who’s not obstacle. Who’s everything.”
“Your father said—”
“My father doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know what I want. Doesn’t know—us. He thinks love is transaction. Performance. Duty. He doesn’t understand choosing someone because they make you feel alive. Because they see you. Because they’re—they’re worth everything. Even poverty. Even lawsuits. Even—everything.”
“One hundred thousand pounds, Marius. That’s—that’s so much money. That’s my mom cared for. That’s debts cleared. That’s—”
“That’s not you,” he finished. “That’s money. And money is—useful. Important. Necessary even. But it’s not you. And I’d rather have you and poverty than money and—and life without you. Every time. Without hesitation. Without—doubt.”
I was crying now. “You’re sure? You’re not just—staying from guilt? From obligation? From—from feeling responsible because I destroyed my life for you?”
“You didn’t destroy your life for me. You destroyed your life for your mother. I was—bonus. Happy accident. Not reason. And I’m not staying from guilt. I’m staying because I love you. Because you make me happy. Because—because I choose you. Every day. Every moment. I choose you.”
He took my hands. “Aspen, you’re not an obligation. You’re a choice. The best choice I’ve ever made. The only choice that’s ever been truly mine. And I’ll keep choosing you. For as long as you’ll let me. For—for forever if we get there. But only if you choose me back. Only if you believe this is real. That we’re—real.”
“I’m scared,” I whispered. “I’m terrified. Because this feels too good. Too—perfect. Like something that will be taken away. Like—like I don’t deserve this. You. This love. This—everything.”
“You deserve it. You deserve everything. And I’m not going anywhere. Not for money. Not for family. Not for—anything. I’m staying. Because I love you. Because you’re worth staying for. Because—because you’re not obstacle. You’re destination. You’re—everything.”
I kissed him. Desperate. Grateful. Relieved. “I love you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have considered it. Shouldn’t have—”
“You should’ve considered it. That’s responsible. That’s—smart even. Considering all options. But now that you’ve considered it—”
“I’m choosing you,” I finished. “I’m choosing us. I’m choosing—poverty and lawsuits and chaos if it means I get to keep you. If it means we get to build this life together. I’m choosing—you.”
“Even over one hundred thousand pounds?”
“Even over anything. Because you’re right. You’re not obligation. You’re—choice. Best choice. Only choice that matters. I choose you. Every day. Every moment. I choose—us.”
We held each other. Crying. Laughing. Relieved. The offer—the temptation—the test—passed.
We were real. This was real. Not crisis. Not obligation. Not—
Not temporary.
Love. Real love. Chosen love. The kind worth staying for. Worth fighting for. Worth—
Worth everything.
Later, I called Octavian. Put it on speaker so Marius could hear.
“Mr. Khatri. I’m declining your offer. I’m staying with your son. Not for money. Not from obligation. But because I love him. And he loves me. And that’s worth more than one hundred thousand pounds. That’s worth—everything.”
Silence. Then: “You’re making mistake.”
“Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make. And his. Together. As partners. As—family. So thank you for the offer. But no. We’re staying. Together. Whatever that costs.”
I hung up.
Marius smiled. “That was—brave. Saying no to that much money. That was—extraordinary.”
“I’m choosing extraordinarily,” I said. “Or maybe just choosing extraordinarily well.”
“Both,” he agreed.
“Both.”
We’d passed test. Survived temptation. Chosen—
Chosen each other over everything else.
Over money. Over family approval. Over—safety.
Chosen love. Chosen risk. Chosen—
Chosen us.
And that was—
That was everything.
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