In that instant, everything finally made sense to Anneliese.


    Of course Grandma lost control the second Jonathan showed up. Of course she fought so hard to shut down whatever we had.


    Of course the hair tie I dropped somehow ended up in his hand. Of course he''s been endlessly patient since the first day we met—calm, gentle, always stepping in like he''s been guarding me forever.


    And of course a man with his position-someone who could have any woman without even trying-still chose to marry someone like me, with a messy history and a marriage that already failed once.


    All that talk about his family forcing him, all that so-called contract marriage-it was all just a cover.


    He came close, protected me, stayed by my side, married me... all because of that night, that fire, that past I never forgot.


    "Baby, I''m sorry. I never meant to hide it from you. I just..."


    Jonathan watched Anneliese, who stood frozen with shock. He realized she finally remembered him-she finally recognized him.


    He used to dream about this moment, imagining she''d recall everything and choose him. But now fear gnawed at him, leaving his voice low and raw, as if speaking too loudly might shatter her.


    He took her cold fingers and warmed them in his palms. He lookedposed, but the faint shake at the edge of his voice betrayed him.


    He wasn''t afraid of Nishay, nor of the tragedy from back then.


    He was afraid of this-afraid of how she would see him now, how she''d see their marriage, their future.


    Afraid she''d react like Nishay, shut him out, refuse to even look at him again.


    "You didn''t mean to?" Anneliese finally raised her head, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Jonathan''s exnation stalled. Her gaze pinned him in ce, his throat tightening until he could barely breathe.


    In the end, he chose to confess.


    "Honey, I nned everything years ago. Back then, I wanted to bring you to my family in Halden, to keep you safe, to raise you. That room you saw is the one I prepared for you. Grandpa agreed-he said I could bring you home as my little sister. So when people say I had some childhood sweetheart... that person was you. It was always you."


    Anneliese stared, stunned. His confession crashed into her like sudden thunder.


    She couldn''t even sort out what she felt.


    That year, she''d lost her adoptive parents. She saw her dad''s broken body with her own eyes. When she returned home, she found the bloodstained stairs where her mom had fallen.


    After the funeral, she spent weeks burning with fever.


    She drifted in and out, and afterward whole pièces of time


    disappeared-like the face of the boy who survived the family who''d appeared to help


    She assumed those memories were gone forever. But that boy-he''d been Jonathan.


    A memory clicked. "Meatloaf..."


    Jonathan nodded. "Yes. You always wondered why Meatloaf liked me, why he obeyed me.


    "Meatloaf was the pup of Azuki-my


    dog. I raised him for six months.


    That year watched you crumble


    under grief. I wanted him


    to stay


    with you. I was afraid you''d reject the gift if it came from me, so I disguised him as a stray and sent him your way..."


    Anneliese shut her eyes for a moment. At the moment, it all aligned.


    Back then, she found Meatloaf wandering outside, brought him home, and loved him dearly.


    Later, Zacharias told her he had bought the dog for her. He pretended Meatloaf was


    a stray so she wouldn''t worry about the cost and refuse him.


    She always found it strange that someone would abandon a purebred golden retriever.


    When Zacharias offered his exnation, she epted it and felt grateful.


    The stray part had been real—but the one who engineered it wasn''t Zacharias at all.


    It was Jonathan.


    Her vision blurred. Her chest


    tightened with too much


    emotion she didn''t know, if she d


    should feel relieved or shattered.


    The revtion struck so hard it felt


    unreal.


    Only one thing was clear-she didn''t need his guilt or his long-buried gratitude. Not like this.


    Herplexion faded. Jonathan looked into her eyes and found no joy, no relief— nothing hopeful.


    They stood close enough to touch, yet something unseen dragged them further apart.


    He couldn''t bear that trembling distance, that helpless feeling slipping out of his grasp.


    He reached for her. "Honey, I..."


    He wanted to wrap his arms around her, lift her, hold her tight.


    But before he could, she raised her hand, stopping him. Her body angled back, flinching instinctively.


    His hand met empty air. He went still, rigid, a sharp crease forming between his brows.