Page 97 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“She loves me.”

Derek throws me a look that seems to say, “Are you slow?”

“So what now?”

“We have a long way to go, but knowing there’s hope to fix this, it changes everything.”

Getting back to the penthouse feels nice, especially now that the place carries her essence. I can smell her faint floral perfume when I step inside. The style is still as sterile as before, but her presence makes it a home.

I leave the flowers on the counter and the suitcase on the floor as I walk to the living room and notice the knitted blanket on the back of the white leather sofa. I grab it and bring it to my nose. It smells just like her. I can see her bundled on the sofa watching TV at night, and I hope that soon we can be together there.

I glance at my watch. I have a few hours before dinner, but I know I need to get everything right.

I order food because cooking is a nice idea in theory, but the last thing I need is to mess up the meal and ruin everything. I call the best Italian restaurant in town and order a ridiculous amount of food. Pasta, risotto, lasagna,tiramisu—enough to feed a small army. My nerves are getting the better of me, and I want to make sure there’s something she likes.

With the food sorted, I head to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water soothes my tense muscles, but my mind is racing. I need to look perfect tonight. I step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror, trying to calm the jitters. This is it. This is my chance to make things right.

I head to the bedroom and open my closet, trying to decide what to wear. I settle on a navy-blue suit at first. It’s classy and safe. But as I put it on, I feel it’s too formal. I change into a white dress shirt and black trousers next, but it feels too businesslike.

I sigh in frustration and change into a casual button-down shirt and jeans. It feels too relaxed. Finally, I settle on a black dress shirt and gray slacks. It’s the perfect balance—stylish but not over the top. I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure everything is in place.

I check the time again. An hour to go. I take a deep breath and walk back to the living room. The penthouse looks perfect, the food will be here soon, and I’m dressed to impress. I just hope I don’t mess this up.

The doorman calls to announce the food, and I tell him to let him up. I tip him generously and set up the table, arranging the dishes in a way that looks inviting. I light a few candles, dim the lights, and step back to admire my work.

Everything is ready. Now, all that’s left is to wait for Ophelia. The minutes feel like hours as I pace around theliving room, checking my watch every few seconds. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but one thing is clear—I need her to know how much I love her, how sorry I am, and how committed I am to making things right.

Finally, I hear it, the beep announcing her return.

I take a deep breath, grab the flowers, and go to wait by the elevator. Please, Tiago’s God, make it alright for us.

The elevator doors slide open, and there she is. Ophelia steps out looking radiant and a bit apprehensive. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see a mix of emotions in them—hope, doubt, maybe even a hint of excitement.

“Hi,” I say softly, offering her the flowers.

She takes them with a gentle smile, her fingers brushing against mine. “Hi,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Everything unsaid remains between us, but I can feel the beginning of something new, something hopeful.

“These are beautiful,” she says, inhaling the scent of the flowers. “Thank you.”

I smile at her as she pretends to not be the creator of this masterpiece. “You’re welcome,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

“It already is,” she says softly. She glances at the dining table, then back at me. “I’m going to take a quick shower and freshen up. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” I reply, nodding. “I’ll warm the food in the meantime.”

She smiles and steps closer, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. The touch of her lips sends a tingle through myentire being, making my heart race. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers.

As she heads to her room, I stand there for a moment, my cheek still tingling from her kiss. It’s a simple gesture, but it means the world to me. I take a deep breath, feeling a wave of optimism wash over me.

I head to the kitchen and start warming up the food. The aroma fills the penthouse, and I take a moment to set the table perfectly. I want everything to be just right for her. For us.

A few minutes later, I hear her footsteps behind me. I turn around and see her standing there, her hair damp from the shower, cascading in loose waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing a soft, midnight-blue dress that hugs her curves just right, the fabric shimmering subtly in the candlelight. The dress has a simple, elegant design with a V-neckline and delicate lace detailing at the sleeves and hem. It’s both comfortable and sophisticated, perfectly reflecting her natural beauty.

“The food smells amazing,” she says, walking over to the table.

“Not as amazing as you look,” I reply, unable to take my eyes off her.

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