Page 100 of Broken Destiny

But as the hours passed and every call continued going unanswered, the concern slowly twisted back into frustration and anger.

No texts.

No explanation.

Nothing.

The meeting had gone well, yet the moment it ended, I drove straight to her house, ready to confront her, never imagining what had actually happened inside.

Once again, I had let my assumptions get ahead of the truth.

But holding Jiya in my arms again had unravelled something inside me. Looking into her eyes, touching her face, feeling her against me had dragged years of memories painfully back to the surface all at once.

Now, sitting at her dining table hours later, watching her feed Emma, I realized how cruel and misplaced my anger had been.

As we continued eating supper together, I looked around the table.

I did not want this evening to end. I did not want to leave this house or this feeling of belonging that had slipped back into my life. I did not want to return to Vancouver, my empty penthouse, or the fiancée waiting there for me.

I wanted to stay right here… with her children, with the laughter, with the warmth that filled this home.

And with her.

My gaze drifted toward Jiya as she wiped Emma’s mouth gently across the table.

The woman I had once loved.

Or maybe…

The woman I never truly stopped loving.

“It’s not your fault,”I said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have known Emma was going to fall. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

Jiya lowered her eyes, but I could see the tension remain in her curled shoulders. Even with Emma safely asleep upstairs, the fear still clung to her.

“I wish I could convince my head of that,” she admitted softly.

I gave her a small smile. “Then be thankful instead. Emma’s okay, and that’s what matters. Thank the Good Man upstairs for that.”

My gaze drifted toward the clock on the wall.

“It’s late,” I said reluctantly. “I should get going.”

She looked at me as I stood up from the couch.

The living room had grown quiet after we put the children to bed an hour earlier. Two glasses of wine sat empty on the coffee table between us, and the dim light from the lamp cast a soft glow across the living room.

“Oh, one sec,” she said. “I have something for you.”

She turned and walked toward the table, reaching for something I had not noticed before.

A moment later, she returned carrying a small gift bag along with a couple of handmade cards.

As she handed them to me, my eyes instinctively dropped to her hand.

Bare.

Her wedding and engagement rings were gone.