One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 135: Chapter 135

It was late morning, the kind of golden lull between the chaos of school drop-offs and afternoon feedings. The house was unusually quiet. Arielle had intended only to drop off Damien’s folded laundry in his home office, but as she crossed the threshold, something tugged at her.
A hum beneath her skin.
Damien’s study had always been a place of purpose—his books arranged alphabetically, his desk pristine, his leather chair molded perfectly to his frame. A room that smelled of cedarwood and ink and the faintest trace of his cologne. She’d passed through here dozens of times.
But she had never explored it.
Not out of mistrust.
Out of reverence.
Today, though, something pulled her to the desk.
She set the folded shirts on the armchair and moved closer. The sunlight streaked through the blinds, catching on the metal edge of a drawer she didn’t remember seeing before. Her hand moved almost of its own volition. She pulled.
Locked.
Her brow furrowed. Damien never locked anything at home. Except… she remembered one evening, half-asleep, hearing the faint sound of a key turning, followed by the click of a drawer.
She reached behind the framed photo of their family and found what she was looking for.
A small brass key tucked behind the frame.
Arielle hesitated. Her heartbeat pulsed in her throat. This felt like a threshold. A choice. But the moment was already in motion.
The key turned easily. The drawer slid open with a soft thunk.
Inside: a velvet box.
Not new. The edges were worn, the color dulled slightly. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it.
She opened it.
And froze.
Inside lay a ring.
But not her ring. Not the one Damien had slipped onto her finger all those years ago under a canopy of fairy lights.
This one was newer. Platinum. A single oval-cut sapphire framed with a constellation of tiny diamonds. Delicate. Elegant. Stunning.
Arielle’s breath caught.
Was this for her?
Or… had it once been for someone else?
A piece of paper was tucked beneath the velvet lining. She unfolded it with shaking hands.
It wasn’t a receipt.
It was a note. Written in Damien’s handwriting.
“When she’s ready. Not a moment before. This time, I’ll do it right.”
Her knees nearly buckled. She sat heavily in Damien’s chair, the box still open in her lap.
This time.
He was going to re-propose.
A sob broke from her chest, sharp and sudden. Relief. Overwhelm. Love crashing into her with the weight of every wound she hadn’t let fully heal.
She remembered the night he made that quiet promise, their newborn asleep beside them. She hadn’t believed him. Not really.
But he had meant it.
Later that day, Damien found her in the nursery, rocking the baby with one hand, the velvet box in the other.
He stopped in the doorway, his mouth parting in surprise. “You found it.”
She looked up at him, eyes glistening.
“I wasn’t snooping,” she whispered.
“I know.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I almost gave it to you last week. But you’d had a hard day. I didn’t want it to feel like pressure.”
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “It’s beautiful.”
He sat beside her, resting his forehead against hers. “I meant what I wrote. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
Arielle took a shaky breath. “You don’t have to.”
He stilled.
“I’m ready,” she said softly. “Not for a big moment. Not for fanfare. Just… for us.”
His eyes searched hers.
“Here?” he asked.
“Here.”
Damien reached for the ring. Slipped it onto her right hand, a promise beside the past.
“No speeches,” she said.
He grinned. “Just a life.”
And in the nursery filled with toys and half-folded laundry, they kissed like they were starting over.
Because in a way, they were.
A new chapter.
A new vow.
Written not with flowers and champagne—but with forgiveness, resilience, and a velvet box hidden in a drawer, waiting for the moment love finally said, now.