Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Tania
The soft hum of rain against the windows adds a comforting rhythm to the quiet of the penthouse. Levi’s out on a call, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The press conference yesterday was a whirlwind, but the sense of relief it brought is undeniable. For the first time in days, it feels like we’ve managed to take control of the narrative.
Still, there’s a part of me that can’t help but feel the weight of everything we’ve been through. The doubts, the struggles, the fear of history repeating itself—it’s all still there, lingering just beneath the surface.
I glance up as Levi steps into the room, his expression soft. “Got a minute?”
“For you? Always,” I say, smiling as I close my laptop.
He’s holding something behind his back, and the faintest hint of a grin tugs at his lips. “I’ve been working on something. It’s... not perfect, but it’s important. And I wanted you to have it.”
I tilt my head, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
Instead of answering, he pulls out a leather-bound scrapbook, its edges worn as though it’s been handled countless times. He hands it to me, his gaze steady but tinged with nervousness.
“What’s this?” I ask, running my fingers over the cover.
“Open it,” he says softly.
As I flip open the cover, my breath catches. The first page holds a photo of us from our first date, sitting at the corner table of that little Italian restaurant Levi loves so much. The picture is slightly blurry, but the joy in our expressions is unmistakable.
“You kept this?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“I kept everything,” he replies, his voice quiet.
Each page tells a story—a memory captured in photos, notes, and little mementos from our time together. Movie tickets, postcards from trips, even a receipt from the time I insisted on paying for dinner after a heated debate about chivalry.
“I can’t believe you saved all this,” I whisper, my fingers brushing over a pressed flower taped to one page.
Levi sits beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “I couldn’t let it go. Even after we broke up, I kept adding to it. It was my way of holding onto us, even when I thought I’d lost you for good.”
My throat tightens as I turn the page and find a stack of letters, neatly folded and tucked into an envelope labeled For Tania.
“What are these?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Letters I never sent,” he admits, his gaze dropping. “After we broke up, I wrote to you. I didn’t know if I’d ever give them to you, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was the only way I could make sense of everything.”
With trembling hands, I pull out the first letter and unfold it. Levi’s handwriting is neat but firm, his words raw and unguarded.
Tania,
I’m writing this because I don’t know how to say it out loud. I miss you. I miss your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you always knew what I needed before I did. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but it feels like I’ve cut out a part of myself. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.
Tears blur the words as I read, the pain and longing in his voice cutting straight to my heart. Each letter holds a piece of him—a vulnerability he rarely shows, a love he’s carried quietly for so long.
By the time I finish the last letter, my cheeks are wet with tears, and Levi is watching me with an expression I can’t quite place.
“Why didn’t you send these?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Because I was scared,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “Scared you wouldn’t want to hear from me. Scared I’d already lost my chance.”
“You never lost your chance,” I whisper, setting the scrapbook aside and taking his hands in mine. “You just... had to wait until we were ready.”
The weight of the past feels lighter now, replaced with something softer, something brighter. I look at Levi, and for the first time, I feel like this isn’t just about redemption or second chances. It’s about us—who we are now, who we’ve fought to become.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice trembling. “For this. For everything.”
“You’re worth it,” he replies, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Every moment, every fight, every second—I’d do it all again for you.”
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, my heart full. “I think... I think I finally believe we can do this.”
“We can,” he says, his voice firm but filled with tenderness. “We already are.”
And as we sit there, surrounded by the memories of our past, I feel a quiet certainty settle over me. This isn’t just a second chance—it’s the beginning of something real, something that feels like home.