Updated Nov 23, 2025 • ~7 min read
The night before our wedding, Damon asked me to meet him in the library.
“Tradition says we shouldn’t see each other,” I reminded him, only half-serious.
“I don’t care about tradition. I need to tell you something.”
The seriousness in his voice made my heart skip. I followed him to the library, where he’d set up chairs facing each other near the fireplace.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
I sat, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Is everything okay? Are you having second thoughts?”
“God, no. The opposite.” He took my hands. “I’m having incredibly certain thoughts. Which is why I need to tell you this. Before we get married. Before we make it official.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared. Just… listen.” He took a breath. “Do you remember our first meeting? When Ophelia brought me to your shared apartment?”
“Of course. You were wearing that gray sweater, and you smiled at me, and I think my heart stopped.”
“Mine did too,” he said quietly. “I saw you, paint-stained and beautiful and so genuinely yourself, and I thought ‘that’s her. That’s the woman I’m supposed to spend my life with.'”
My breath caught.
“But Ophelia was right there,” he continued. “Talking a mile a minute, already planning our next date, already acting like we were more serious than one coffee date warranted. And I was too much of a coward to say ‘actually, I’m more interested in your sister.'”
“Damon—”
“Let me finish. Please.” His grip on my hands tightened. “Over the next few months, I dated Ophelia. Took her to nice restaurants, met her friends, did all the things you’re supposed to do. But every time we were together, I was looking for you. Hoping you’d be at the dinner party or the gallery opening or wherever we were. Because those moments when you were there—when I could talk to you about art or books or anything real—those were the only times I felt alive.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“I convinced myself it was just attraction,” he said. “Just some silly infatuation with the sister of the woman I was dating. But then Ophelia started dropping hints about engagement, and I panicked. Because I knew—I knew—if I proposed to her, I’d lose any chance with you forever.”
“So why did you propose?”
“Because she backed me into a corner at her birthday party, in front of all her friends, and asked ‘so when are you going to make an honest woman of me?’ And everyone laughed, and she looked so expectant, and I just… said yes. Proposed right there with a borrowed ring from one of her friends.” His voice was thick with regret. “I proposed to your sister because I was too weak to say no. Not because I loved her. Not because I wanted to marry her. Because I couldn’t think of a polite way out.”
I was crying now, full tears streaming down my face.
“And then you left,” he continued. “Vanished to New York without a word. And I thought maybe that was my sign—that I’d made the right choice because you clearly didn’t feel the same way I did. So I married Ophelia. Spent seven years in a marriage that felt like playacting. And every single day, I wondered what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to choose you.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked through the tears.
“Because tomorrow I’m marrying you. And this time, I’m choosing you. Not because you’re convenient or because I’m backed into a corner or because I can’t think of a way out.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I’m choosing you because I love you. Because I’ve always loved you, from that very first moment. And because spending one more day not being your husband is unacceptable.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too. So much it terrifies me sometimes.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Tomorrow, when we stand in that rose garden and say our vows, I need you to know—there are no doubts. No second-guessing. No wondering if I’m making the right choice. You are the right choice. You’ve always been the right choice. I just needed seven years and a tragedy to wake up and realize it.”
We sat like that for a long time, foreheads pressed together, hands clasped, both of us crying.
“Thank you,” I finally said. “For telling me. For being honest.”
“Always,” he promised. “No more secrets. No more wondering. Just us, being honest about everything.”
“I have a confession too,” I admitted.
“Yeah?”
“I almost didn’t come back. When Ophelia died and Tyler called about the will. I almost said no, stayed in New York, avoided all of this.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because part of me knew. Knew this was my second chance. Knew that if I didn’t take it, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering what if.” I smiled through the tears. “Turns out running toward you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Turns out we’re both braver than we thought.” He kissed me softly. “Tomorrow, we get to prove it. In front of everyone who matters.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed.
“You should go,” he said reluctantly. “Beatrice will kill me if I keep you up too late the night before your wedding.”
“Probably.” I stood, but didn’t let go of his hands. “Damon?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For choosing me. For loving me. For all of it.”
“Thank you for choosing me back. For giving me this second chance. For building a family with me even when it was complicated and messy.”
“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”
“Me too.”
One more kiss, lingering and sweet, and then I forced myself to leave before I did something inappropriate like spend the night with my groom before our wedding.
I found Beatrice waiting in my room, holding my wedding dress.
“Well?” she asked. “What did he want?”
“To tell me he loves me. That he’s always loved me. That tomorrow is the happiest day of his life.”
Beatrice’s expression softened. “That man is so gone for you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“Good.” She hung the dress carefully. “Because tomorrow, you’re becoming his wife. And there’s no going back.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I said truthfully. “I only want to go forward.”
“Then forward it is.” She kissed my cheek. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”
But I didn’t sleep. I lay in bed—alone for the last time—thinking about the journey that had brought me here.
Loving Damon from afar. Losing him to my sister. Running away rather than face the pain. Being dragged back by death and duty. Finding him again against all odds.
Building a family from the wreckage of Ophelia’s choices.
Choosing to love openly instead of hiding.
Tomorrow, I’d marry him. Make it official. Become Keira Vale.
Wife. Mother. Partner.
Everything I’d ever wanted.
Everything I’d thought I could never have.
And I owed it all to my sister’s final gift—intentional or not.
I touched the necklace Damon had given me—K, D, and L intertwined.
Our family.
Our future.
Our choice.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
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