UNFAITHFUL

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sara

At 4:30 p.m., a text from Emma lit up my screen. "Will pick you up at five. Be ready."

I typed a quick reply. "Okay ." But the moment I hit send, the nerves crashed into me again.

Eighteen months.

Eighteen months since I last saw him.

Would he be there tonight? And if he was... what would I even say?

Our last conversation still echoed in my mind. It had been heartbreaking.

I broke his heart.

And in doing so, I broke my own.

But it was the only choice that made sense.

I couldn't ask him to wait in the dark, counting the days for me. It wouldn't have been fair.

And someone like Archie shouldn't have wasted his time waiting for me.

I still remember every single word we said that day. He came to my house the moment I asked, standing at my door with an expression that said he already knew, like he had been bracing for this moment long before I found the courage to face it.

He knew we were going to have the talk.

The one I had been avoiding.

The one that would change everything.

Then he sat beside me on the sofa, looking exhausted, his head resting against the backrest as if the weight of the world had drained him of strength.

He was silent. Waiting.

The air between us was thick, with everything unspoken.

And it was so hard—so, so hard—to say the words.

But I had to.

They had lived in my mind for some time now, pressing against the walls of my heart, waiting to be set free. I had just been too greedy to let them go. Too selfish to say them sooner.

Before I could find the courage to speak, he beat me to it. "I know what you're going to say," he murmured, his voice quiet, resigned. His gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, as if looking at me would make it hurt more. "You want me to leave you."

Archie had always known. He always understood what I was thinking, what I was feeling. Sometimes even before I did.

"Even though I kept saying I'd wait for you," he continued, his voice a quiet ache. "That I'd be fine standing on the sideline... and being there whenever you needed me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely holding together.

Archie let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "It is what it is, Sara," he said, but the pain beneath his words was unmistakable. "You can't love me. I need to accept that."

I exhaled shakily, my chest aching. "I need time to heal, Archie. If we rush into this now, we'll always wonder—are we bound by love or by the misery that happened to me? Am I holding on because we were meant to be, or because I'm afraid of what's left of me without you?

"You came into my life when everything was falling apart, and you were there for me. I can't fathom how I would survive without you. But that's exactly why I need time apart—to let go, to stand on my own. Because my heartbreak, my pain... it's still raw. And any choice I made right now wouldn't be fair to you or to me."

The hurt in his eyes... it was unbearable. It hollowed me out and made me wish I could take it all back. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. I refused to shatter him just to keep myself whole.

"You deserve someone who is certain, without hesitation, without doubt. Someone who can give you her whole heart without pieces missing. And it wouldn't have been fair to ask you to wait for me. All I want is for you to live freely without the burden of my uncertainty."

"Yeah..." He trailed off, his voice distant. "I understand."

He straightened his back, then leaned forward, clasping his hands together above his knees. A heavy sigh left him before he spoke. "I also realized that maybe... by telling you I'd wait, I was putting too much pressure on you. I see that now." He nodded slightly, more to himself than to me. "So, trust me when I say—I understand."

But the way his fingers tightened, the way his shoulders curled inward... I knew understanding didn't make it hurt any less.

He turned his gaze to me, and there was a softness in his eyes that made it even worse.

Because he wasn't angry.

He wasn't bitter.

And that only broke my heart even more.

"I've always seen you as a strong person, Sara," he said, his voice achingly tender. "I watched you break, and I watched you pull the pieces of yourself back together. And somehow, you came out even stronger."

He exhaled softly, his lips curving into the faintest, softest smile. "And I'm proud of you."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Archie..."

"I also realized that I was far too overprotective of you. And that's not good. I was holding on too tightly, making you dependent on me when, instead, I should have trusted you to stand on your own."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and fragile all at once.

"So, I'm going to leave, Sara. I'm giving you the space to breathe, to grow, to stand on your own. I want you to have the pride of knowing that everything you achieved is because of you and you alone. Because I believe in you. And you're already doing so great."

"Thank you." The words trembled as they left me. "Thank you for always being there for me."

Archie's gaze lingered on me for a moment—soft, filled with a quiet sorrow. But there was something else there, too. Conviction. A decision made.

My sobs were coming harder now, my chest aching in a way I couldn't understand.

Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like my heart had been shattered beyond repair? Like I was going to lose him forever. Like he was never coming back to me.

My voice trembled as I clung to the last thread of hope. "We're still going to see each other... aren't we?"

I needed him to say yes.

I needed him to give me something—anything—to hold on to.

"If I continue to stay, it won't change anything. You're right. We need this separation, Sara. We both do."

He released a slow breath as though trying to regain his composure. "And if we were meant to be... we'll find our way back to each other. With a clean break. A fresh start."

I clung to his arm, sobbing, unable to understand why my heart ached so fiercely when I was the one who asked him to leave. "Where will you go?"

"Back to work. Travels." His voice was quieter now, more to himself than to me. "Dad has a lot of jobs lined up... and I think I'll take them."

He leaned in just enough for our foreheads to almost touch, his breath warm against my skin.

The moment felt suspended in time, delicate and fragile. Like the slightest movement could shatter it.

And then, in a voice so soft it barely reached me, he whispered, "I love you, Peaches. Take care of yourself for me."

He lingered for just a moment before finally rising to his feet, hesitating for a breath, then slowly turning away.

I could see the struggle in his posture as he forced himself to move. It was hard for him—I knew that. But it was hard for me too. Harder than I ever thought it would be.

Then he walked away.

My hand twitched, reaching out instinctively, though I didn't move. Fear suddenly gripped me. My mind screamed. Stop, Archie. Don't go. I was wrong. No, please.

But he didn't hear the words I couldn't say.

He opened the front door, stepped out, and was gone.

And I hadn't seen or heard from him since.

Even when I knew he had come back for a few days, he never reached out.

I contemplated calling him, texting him, but then changed my mind, remembering our last conversation.

Not yet, I decided.

Still, I found myself asking Julian how he was doing. I still wanted to know. I even went to Janet's house, seeking answers to our conversations. But most of the time, they didn't know either. When he was on deployment, it was hard to contact him sometimes. So, they only saw him in passing—brief moments over lunch or a quick cup of coffee when he was in town.

Like a ghost passing through, never staying long enough to leave a trace.

The only person who truly knew everything about him outside of work was Henry—Archie and Julian's assistant. But he refused to tell me anything.

My mind just couldn't stop thinking about him.

I realized now that his absence didn't diminish my feelings for him. If anything, they only grew stronger. With distance, my doubts about myself faded, allowing me to see things clearly until I could finally recognize and accept what I truly felt for him.

And now, I heard he was back. Emma told me.

He had gone for four months on his last assignment, vanishing into the most dangerous part of the world. And for two of those weeks, he disappeared without a trace. No calls, no messages.

It drove Janet and Herston absolutely insane. Janet couldn't stop crying. She was hysterical. Herston pulled every connection he had, exhausting every resource to find his son.

It drove me mad, too. Sleep eluded me, my thoughts consumed by him. Where was he? Was he safe?

But I knew—somehow, I just knew—that he was alive. Because something deep inside me remained tethered to him, binding us together in mind, body, and soul. If he was gone, I would feel it. In my heart, in my bones, in the very core of my being. I would know.

And I prayed—fervently, desperately—on my knees beside my bed every night. I prayed for his safety, for his return. For fate to be kind and bring him back to me.

Then, out of nowhere, Archie called his dad to pick him up.

Now he was here.

And if our stars aligned, I was about to see him again.

I missed him. I missed him so much it hurt.

Would there still be a chance for us?

He said he would wait, but I told him not to.

I couldn't let him put his life on hold for me. Not when I was still unsure, when the pain was still raw, and my choices were still clouded by it.

It wouldn't be fair to him.

If he was there tonight, I had decided, I would tell him how I felt. I hoped, more than anything, that he still felt the same. But if he didn't, I would understand. A relationship built on uncertainty and hesitation wouldn't stand, and I still believed I had made the right choice in telling him to go.

I didn't regret it. Keeping him close to me while I was still drowning in pain would have only hurt him more.

But I was still grateful for his unwavering care, for the love he had given so freely. No matter what the future holds, I knew I had been truly blessed to have him in my life.

My phone rang, and I saw Emma was calling. It was time.

I felt a rush of nerves as I grabbed my bag and left the office.

Outside, I spotted Julian's car, and Emma had rolled down the window—her head peeking out as she waved at me. For a split second, I wondered if Archie might be there, but then I shook my head. No, that couldn't possibly be.

I slid into the car, and the couple cheerfully greeted me in unison, drawing a small smile from me. They were so in sync, it was impossible not to notice how they felt toward each other.

Julian shifted into gear and pulled onto the road, but I barely registered the movement. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of questions. What would I say? What would I do? And the scariest thought of all—what if he said no?

Julian and Emma chatted quietly in front, but their voices were just a distant hum. They seemed to understand that my mind was elsewhere and didn't try to pull me into the conversation.

Before I knew it, Julian pulled into the parking lot beside the café. The drive, which should have taken around forty minutes, felt like it had passed in the blink of an eye. My nerves had swallowed up any sense of time.

Emma and Julian stepped out of the car first, and I followed. Emma waited for me to catch up, linking her arm through mine and offering a reassuring smile.

"Julian wasn't sure if Archie would come," she said. "He said nothing when Julian mentioned the party... or that you'd be here."

I nodded, swallowing down the nerves tightening in my throat as we walked together.

Inside, the café was already bustling. It had been closed for the event, reserved only for John and Jeremy's guests. I scanned the room, searching through the unfamiliar faces, but he wasn't there.

Julian appeared beside me, draping an arm over my shoulders. "Just enjoy the night, Sara," he said. "These are good, fun people. Just have a good time."

"Okay," I said weakly, forcing a smile.

I walked up to Jeremy, wished him a happy birthday, and then did my best to enjoy myself. Emma and Julian stayed close, and I was grateful for their presence, but after a while, I needed a moment alone.

I exhaled softly, feeling the weight of my nerves pressing down. "Emma, Julian," I said, turning to them with a small smile. "You don't have to stay with me the whole time. Go and enjoy yourselves."

Emma gave me a hesitant look, but I reassured her, "I'm just going to step out onto the deck for some fresh air, okay?"

Without waiting for their reply, I stepped outside, immediately met by the crisp night air. It wasn't windy, just cool enough to bring a slight shiver. The sky was clear, the moon casting its silver glow over the gently moving river. I walked up to the fence, watching the water ripple, its surface reflecting the soft light. Slowly, my restless thoughts settled.

It's okay, I told myself. If he didn't come, it's okay. I was the one who let him go. He had every right to move on with his life just as I was trying to move on with mine.

But it still hurts.

There were only two other people beside me on the deck, smoking and engaging in quiet conversation. When they finished, they stepped back inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I let out a sigh, turning my gaze back to the water and watching how the moonlight shimmered on the rippling surface.

Then I heard the door open and close behind me. Heavy footsteps followed, approaching the deck. Probably another smoker. I didn't bother to look.

But then I heard his voice. My breath hitched.

That voice.

Low, deep, and unmistakably his.

"There you are, Peaches. I've been looking for you inside."

I turned slowly, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. And there he was—Archie, just a few steps away, clad in his black leather jacket and those worn jeans he loved so much, watching me with those familiar, intense eyes.

Every bone in my body melted, and every taut nerve softened.

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I stood there, speechless, stunned into silence at the mere sight of him. The intensity of my emotions threatened to spill over.

For a long moment, we stood in the quiet, locked in a tender gaze. He smiled at me—soft, beautiful, and reassuring—while my lips quivered, betraying the storm raging within me. I bit down gently, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape.

"Hey, what's with that face?" he asked, his brows knitting together in concern. "Come here."

Before I could answer, he pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me in that familiar, comforting way. I pressed my lips tightly together, trying so damn hard not to cry.

"I miss you," I murmured shakily against his chest.

He tightened his hold on me, his warmth sinking into my skin.

"I miss you too," he whispered softly.

"I thought you wouldn't come."

He let out a slow sigh. "I wasn't sure at first... but I missed you too much."

I tilted my head up, meeting his mesmerizing green eyes with a slight frown. "Why weren't you sure?"

He looked at me, his eyes gently searching my face. "Because you haven't told me to come back to you."

"What?" I stammered, blinking up at him.

He smiled wider, leaning down, his forehead touching mine. "I was waiting for you."

I pulled away slightly, trying to see him more clearly. "Is that why you never reached out?" I asked, my voice trembling as my eyes welled with tears.

"Yeah," he said with a smile—gentle, steady, and filled with a warmth that stirred something deep inside me.

"You shouldn't wait for me." My fingers clutched his leather jacket. "I wanted you to keep living your life, not waste it waiting for me."

"I made you a promise," he murmured, his hands gently cradling my face. "And no matter how hard I tried, I knew I could never break it." His thumbs brushed slow, deliberate circles over my cheekbones, his gaze searching mine. "What about you?"

"I tried," I whispered, my voice unsteady. "But no matter what I did, I kept coming back to you."

Then, without thinking, I pulled him close, holding on as if it could make up for all the time we'd lost.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it, Archie."

Something tender flickered in his eyes. "What are you saying, Sara?"

My heart pounded even harder as I struggled to find the words to make him understand what he truly meant to me.

"I miss you. All the time."

He was still searching my eyes, trying to figure out what I was trying to say.

But I could see his feelings laid bare on his face—hope, longing. And maybe he could read mine, too.

I whispered, "Because I finally realized, deep in my heart, that I love you too."

He drew back slightly, his expression etched with pure shock.

I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to respond. God, I was so nervous.

Then he released a breath, a warm sigh that drifted across my skin, carrying the lingering scent of mint. "I love you, Sara. You're my one. Even when I'm not yours, you're still mine."

Oh, God. The words settled deep inside me, a tender ache blossoming in my chest. Suddenly, my tears spilled freely. The intensity of his devotion overwhelmed me. How was I so lucky? How had I been so fortunate to find a man who loved me like this? It felt impossible, yet here he was. His heart laid bare, offering me everything.

And I felt it. His feelings for me. I felt the patient, unwavering love he gave to me.

He smiled at me. I smiled at him, too.

Then I laughed—a soft, breathless sound—right through my tears.

I reached for him. My hands found the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, as I pulled him down to me.

And I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything I had, with every breath, every unsaid word, every piece of my heart I had been too afraid to give before.

He kissed me back, fierce and unrelenting, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had, perhaps even longer. His arms tightened around me, drawing me impossibly closer as if he feared letting go would make me disappear.

And still, my tears kept falling. They wouldn't stop.

Because my heart—so tender, so fragile—had melted, disentangled, and leaped wholly, irrevocably, into his hands.

Time stretched, each second lingering as I remained in his arms, lost in the warmth of him. Even as our kiss slowed, he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then the tip of my nose, his breath warm against my skin.

And then, in a whisper that sent goosebumps all over my skin, he murmured against my cheek, "Let's get out of here."