Chapter Four: The Weight of Redemption

The days that followed were gentle in their unfolding.

After years of grief, confusion, and hidden wounds, Elira finally woke up each morning without the shadow of the unknown crushing her chest. Her memory had returned—both the sweetness and the pain—and strangely, the weight of knowing everything made her feel lighter.

But healing was not immediate. Nor was forgiveness.

The house was quiet now. The maids who once tormented her were gone, dismissed silently by Ares himself without a word of explanation. He never spoke about it. But she noticed how every morning he’d personally prepare the herbal tea she liked, the one she used to make for herself when no one else cared.

He left little notes on her nightstand, not expecting anything in return.

“Eat well today.”

“Don’t forget your scarf, it’s windy.”

“I’m sorry, for all the days I didn’t see you.”

They weren’t grand gestures. But they were real. And they were his.

One afternoon, Elira wandered to the garden—the one that had once been overgrown and cold. Now, it bloomed with soft pink carnations, marigolds, and lilacs. She paused by a bench and saw a small stone plaque tucked among the flowers.

It read:

“For the girl who survived it all—and still dared to bloom.”

Her fingers trembled. She turned to find Ares behind her, hands in his coat pockets.

“I didn’t mean to find this,” she whispered.

“I hoped you would,” he said.

He stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a bird that might fly away. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, Elira. But I want you to know—I remember everything too. Every cruel word, every time I ignored your pain. I was a coward, drowning in my own loss.”

“You thought I was the reason you lost her,” she said softly.

Ares nodded, guilt written into every angle of his face. “I thought you were the reason she left me. But the truth was… she never loved me. Not really. I was just her next investment.”

His voice trembled. “And yet you—someone I never gave a chance—stood beside me when everyone else didn’t. You loved me even when I made you feel like nothing.”

Elira looked at him, eyes calm. “I remember all of it now. Every moment.”

Ares winced.

“But I also remember,” she continued, “how you stayed beside me during my coma. How you talked to me, even when no one else believed I’d ever wake up.”

He blinked, surprised.

“My brother told me,” she said. “You refused to leave. You held my hand for hours every day. You read to me. Even sang once, terribly.”

He chuckled under his breath, rubbing his neck. “I was hoping you’d forget that part.”

“I didn’t,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

He stepped closer. “I don’t know if I deserve a second chance.”

“You don’t,” she said simply, and his shoulders stiffened.

“But I’m giving it to you anyway,” she added, reaching out to take his hand.

His eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked like a man not used to hope.

“Because I want to see what love looks like,” Elira said, “when it’s chosen... not begged for.”

That night, as stars blinked gently above, Elira dreamed.

She stood in a meadow of silver grass. The moon hung low, casting light like a veil across the earth. In the distance, Leo stood again—smiling, peaceful.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded. “You were never meant to carry the past alone.”

“I’ll miss you always.”

“And I’ll watch over you. But now it’s time to love the one who stayed.”

As she walked toward him, he stepped back into the stars. His figure dissolved into a thousand glowing petals that floated toward the sky.

And just like that, her dream faded.

When Elira awoke, the world felt softer.

Ares was waiting on the porch with two mugs of tea.

He handed one to her. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I saw a blessing,” she corrected gently, sipping her tea. “From the one who loved me first.”

He grew quiet. Then asked, carefully, “And do you think you could… love again?”

She didn’t answer right away.