The Mafia's Backup Bride - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Eight days later, the news of Megan's death reached me while I was watching a duckling take its wobbly first steps.
One of my regular customers broke the silence, admiring the flowers before sighing, "Life's so unpredictable, isn't it?"
I nodded absently, my mind drifting to Megan and Blake. Their names felt like relics from another life.
"Caroline."
The voice snapped me back. I turned—and my expression iced over.
Blake was already halfway across the shop, moving fast. I slammed the door shut, but he wedged his hand in the gap at the last second. His fingers turned an ugly shade of purple instantly.
He gritted his teeth, sweat glistening on his forehead, but he didn't pull back.
"Just one word," he rasped, almost begging.
Curious stares burned into us from every corner. With no choice, I yanked the door open and let him in.
After soothing the startled customers, I poured him coffee—black, no sugar—and slid it across the counter. Only then did I really look at him.
A month had aged him a decade. Silver streaked his hair, shadows carved deep under his eyes. He looked wrecked.
But I didn't get it. He'd loved Megan so much. I'd already stepped aside. So why was he still drowning?
"Caroline," he whispered, tears brimming, "do you really not love me anymore?"
I just stared.
What was there to say?
Maybe I'd never loved him at all. Maybe I'd loved the illusion he'd sold me—the Blake who adored Caroline. Every sacrifice, every moment I'd stayed, had been for that man.
The silence stretched.
Blake flinched like I'd struck him. "If—if I swore I'd never hurt you again," he choked out, "if I really fell for you this time… would you come back?"
I leaned away, chair scraping. "So you'd find another naive girl to ruin? Another Megan? Another me?"
His face went slack. "You think that's all I am?"
I didn't answer.
What was there to say?
He'd always fancied himself some tragic romantic. But the truth was uglier: when he loved, it was all-consuming. When he didn't, he destroyed without remorse.
Blake's gaze dropped.
We sat in silence as the sun bled out over the horizon.
When the last crimson streak faded, he exhaled roughly. "Funny. This might be the first sunset we've ever watched together."
My chest tightened. He remembered.
Years ago, I'd begged for this—just one quiet moment, just us. Back then, he'd given me everything except his time.
Now here it was. And all I felt was the ache in my lower back.
At the door, he hesitated. Then, voice trembling: "I'd give it all up. My name, my money, everything. Just us—traveling, growing old somewhere quiet. Sunrise, sunset. A garden. Chickens. Would you…?"
The words were mine. The desperation too.
But this time, I shook my head. "I already lived that life, Blake. You don't get to reclaim what you threw away."
The Caroline who'd loved him was gone.
He didn't look back as he left. Didn't even let me finish.