One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 129: Chapter 129
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The house slept.
It was the kind of silence only a parent could notice—fragile, conditional, the hush that settles between diaper changes and midnight feedings. Outside, a gentle wind stirred the trees, their branches brushing softly against the window panes like forgotten lullabies. Inside, the world had shrunk to the flicker of a single candle, the creak of an old mattress, and the rise and fall of two tired bodies breathing together.
Arielle lay curled on her side, facing Damien. Her head rested against his chest, their legs tangled beneath the comforter, the baby monitor a soft hum near the nightstand. She traced the faint pattern of his heartbeat with her fingertips, as if trying to memorize its rhythm.
“Are you still awake?” she whispered.
His voice came low, rough with sleep. “Always, when you need me.”
A faint smile brushed her lips. “I was just thinking…”
He waited.
“…how different everything is now.”
He stroked her back gently. “Different doesn’t mean worse.”
“No,” she said softly. “But it’s heavier. Every day, I wonder if I’m enough for all of them. If I’ll ever feel like me again.”
Damien lifted her chin gently, guiding her eyes to his in the candlelight. “You’re more you now than ever before.”
She blinked. “How can you say that when I’m stitched together with pain and stretch marks and fear?”
“Because those things don’t break you. They reveal you. You didn’t fall apart—you rose.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You always say the right thing.”
He chuckled. “I say what I feel. The right thing happens to be you.”
A comfortable silence settled. The kind that lived only between people who had fought in the trenches together—bloodied, bruised, but still side by side.
And then, Damien spoke again, voice steady.
“When you’re healed…”
Arielle looked up at him, sensing something shifting.
“…when your body feels strong again, when your heart stops holding its breath, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Her breath caught.
“We’re already married,” she said, almost laughing, almost crying.
He nodded. “I know. But I want to do it again. For us. For who we are now—not who we were then.”
She stared at him, her heart thudding softly. “Why?”
“Because back then, I loved you with hope. Now I love you with proof.”
The candle guttered slightly, casting long shadows across the room. Damien sat up slowly, careful not to jostle her, and opened the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a small velvet pouch—unremarkable in color, but heavy with meaning.
“I’ve had this for months,” he admitted. “I kept waiting for the right moment. But there’s no perfect one. There’s only this one.”
He opened it and slipped something into her hand.
It wasn’t a ring.
It was a key.
She looked at him in confusion.
“Behind the art studio,” he said quietly, “I bought the greenhouse. The one you’ve always loved.”
Her breath hitched.
“I had them renovate it. It’s climate controlled now. Custom irrigation. I even added a little sunroom in the back for writing or… napping.”
Arielle’s voice trembled. “Why would you—?”
“Because I want to give you back the parts of yourself that got lost in all this. Not because I need you to go back. But because I know you still carry those pieces.”
The tears came then—hot and silent.
He kissed her forehead, letting her cry.
When the storm passed, she whispered, “You really want to propose again?”
He nodded. “With the kids all dressed up. Maybe on the beach. Or in the garden. Wherever your soul feels like it can breathe again.”
She smiled, tearstained. “And what if I say no?”
He grinned. “Then I’ll propose again the next day. And the next. Until you remember that you deserve joy without apology.”
She kissed him then—soft and deep, full of promise. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for passion, but presence. That said, I see you. That said, Thank you for seeing me too.
They lay back down, hearts still echoing the moment.
In the darkness, she held the key against her chest like a vow.
And Damien whispered, “This is just the beginning.”
Outside, the wind quieted. Inside, the woman who once felt broken let herself believe she could bloom again.
It was the kind of silence only a parent could notice—fragile, conditional, the hush that settles between diaper changes and midnight feedings. Outside, a gentle wind stirred the trees, their branches brushing softly against the window panes like forgotten lullabies. Inside, the world had shrunk to the flicker of a single candle, the creak of an old mattress, and the rise and fall of two tired bodies breathing together.
Arielle lay curled on her side, facing Damien. Her head rested against his chest, their legs tangled beneath the comforter, the baby monitor a soft hum near the nightstand. She traced the faint pattern of his heartbeat with her fingertips, as if trying to memorize its rhythm.
“Are you still awake?” she whispered.
His voice came low, rough with sleep. “Always, when you need me.”
A faint smile brushed her lips. “I was just thinking…”
He waited.
“…how different everything is now.”
He stroked her back gently. “Different doesn’t mean worse.”
“No,” she said softly. “But it’s heavier. Every day, I wonder if I’m enough for all of them. If I’ll ever feel like me again.”
Damien lifted her chin gently, guiding her eyes to his in the candlelight. “You’re more you now than ever before.”
She blinked. “How can you say that when I’m stitched together with pain and stretch marks and fear?”
“Because those things don’t break you. They reveal you. You didn’t fall apart—you rose.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You always say the right thing.”
He chuckled. “I say what I feel. The right thing happens to be you.”
A comfortable silence settled. The kind that lived only between people who had fought in the trenches together—bloodied, bruised, but still side by side.
And then, Damien spoke again, voice steady.
“When you’re healed…”
Arielle looked up at him, sensing something shifting.
“…when your body feels strong again, when your heart stops holding its breath, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Her breath caught.
“We’re already married,” she said, almost laughing, almost crying.
He nodded. “I know. But I want to do it again. For us. For who we are now—not who we were then.”
She stared at him, her heart thudding softly. “Why?”
“Because back then, I loved you with hope. Now I love you with proof.”
The candle guttered slightly, casting long shadows across the room. Damien sat up slowly, careful not to jostle her, and opened the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a small velvet pouch—unremarkable in color, but heavy with meaning.
“I’ve had this for months,” he admitted. “I kept waiting for the right moment. But there’s no perfect one. There’s only this one.”
He opened it and slipped something into her hand.
It wasn’t a ring.
It was a key.
She looked at him in confusion.
“Behind the art studio,” he said quietly, “I bought the greenhouse. The one you’ve always loved.”
Her breath hitched.
“I had them renovate it. It’s climate controlled now. Custom irrigation. I even added a little sunroom in the back for writing or… napping.”
Arielle’s voice trembled. “Why would you—?”
“Because I want to give you back the parts of yourself that got lost in all this. Not because I need you to go back. But because I know you still carry those pieces.”
The tears came then—hot and silent.
He kissed her forehead, letting her cry.
When the storm passed, she whispered, “You really want to propose again?”
He nodded. “With the kids all dressed up. Maybe on the beach. Or in the garden. Wherever your soul feels like it can breathe again.”
She smiled, tearstained. “And what if I say no?”
He grinned. “Then I’ll propose again the next day. And the next. Until you remember that you deserve joy without apology.”
She kissed him then—soft and deep, full of promise. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for passion, but presence. That said, I see you. That said, Thank you for seeing me too.
They lay back down, hearts still echoing the moment.
In the darkness, she held the key against her chest like a vow.
And Damien whispered, “This is just the beginning.”
Outside, the wind quieted. Inside, the woman who once felt broken let herself believe she could bloom again.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 129. Continue reading Chapter 130 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.