Page 125 of Unfaithful

"When did I say that?" Cole let out a small huff, his tone defensive. "I was just not sure if this is the right one."

Katya crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at him. "It's the right one. Trust me. You just hate admitting that I'm right."

Cole opened his mouth, clearly about to defend himself, but then seemed to think better of it. With a small exhale, he pressed his lips together and said nothing.

I watched the exchange with quiet amusement. There was an ease between them, a push and pull that felt natural. I liked this woman. She seemed kind but didn't hesitate to challenge him, which was a good thing. Cole needed someone who wouldn't tiptoe around him, someone strong enough to hold her own.

Thinking that it was time to go, I offered him a sincere smile and said warmly, "It's good to see you again, Cole. Archie and I need to get going. Kat, nice meeting you, too."

"Yeah..." He trailed off for a moment, his gaze flickering between me and Archie. Then, with a small nod, he said, "I hope everything goes well for you and the baby."

Archie and I both said our thanks. As we walked away, I faintly heard them bickering again about the bed. I couldn't help but smile to myself. There was something oddly comforting about the way they went back and forth. It wasn't tense or bitter, just the playful disagreement that came from familiarity.

That gorgeous woman might be a new beginning for Cole. Maybe, with her, he could finally find what Archie and I had—something solid, something real. And maybe this time, he would cherish it. Maybe he had learned. Maybe he would be truthful and faithful, not taking the love given to him for granted.

I hoped so. Because love, the right kind, didn't come around often. And when it did, it deserved to be held onto with both hands.

BONUS EPILOGUE

Cole

Stepping out of her office felt like stepping out of my own heart. With every footfall, a part of me unraveled, drifting away like autumn leaves caught in the wind, fragile, weightless, lost. I walked away from the love of my life.

Because love was never meant to be a battlefield, and yet I had turned ours into one. Sometimes, even love cannot repair what was broken beyond repair.

I had carved wounds too deep and left scars too jagged for time to smooth over. I had loved her in all the wrong ways.

And now she was yearning for what it truly meant to be loved right.

To be cherished without pain. To be held without fear.

And I had to face the most painful truth of all. She would find that love, but not with me. I had to let her go. Even if it destroyed me.

He would give her the happiness she deserved. Love her the way she was always meant to be loved—gently, fully, without hesitation or pain.

But no matter how good of a man he was, I knew deep in my bones, in the marrow of my being, I could give that to her, too.

I could be better. I could change.

I could love her just as fiercely, just as tenderly.

I could be the man she needed, the man she once believed I was.

I could undo the damage, rewrite our story, turn every bitter memory into something loving, something whole and meaningful.

For her, I would rewrite every broken part of myself, tear down the man I used to be, and build someone worthy of her love. I would worship her, not just with words, but with every choice, every action. I would love her in the way she deserved, wholly and unconditionally.

I would be truthful. I would spend a lifetime proving that she would never have to doubt me again.

But wanting to change and being given the chance to prove it were two different things. And after all I had done, I had already lost the right to try. Because how do you make someone believe in the future when you've poisoned the past?

How do you ask for another chance when you've turned years of warmth into cold regret?

How do you prove that love can survive the wreckage you've left behind?

Even though I had lost her since the day she found out about my betrayal, today, she made it final. Any lingering chance, any fragile thread of hope, was severed. And that was what hurt the most. There was nothing left to hold on to.

She said that some things change us forever.

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