Page 152 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

He takes my face in his hands.

“You’re the one I want.”

His voice doesn’t waver.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask this of you,” he says. “I know it will be hard. But I want you in my life, Valeria. I want you to be my wife again. And I’ll find a way to make sure Bianca never crosses our path—that the only contact we’ll have with her will be about the child.”

“I need clear boundaries,” I say. “Boundaries you’ll respect, even under pressure. Because the pressure will come, Dante. She won’t let you go easily, especially now that she has leverage over you.”

“I hear you.”

Despite his words, I can’t help but feel uneasy. This child will give Bianca so much power. A power she won’t hesitate to use to hurt me or tear us apart. Will Dante’s good intentions be enough?

As if he senses my doubts, he adds:

“Here’s what I’m proposing, concretely: a co-parenting app for all communication about the child. No calls. No direct messages. No intrusion into our lives. She won’t set foot in our home.”

“And if she turns the baby against me?”

I know I’m getting ahead of myself. The child isn’t even born yet. The real decisions belong to a future we can’t fully anticipate. Manipulation won’t happen immediately—but some things are too important not to address now.

This time, his eyes harden.

“If she uses this child against us, then I’ll fight back. Without hesitation.”

There’s no doubt in his voice. No escape route.

He chooses me.

Despite everything. Despite the baby. Despite what it will cost him.

I lean into him, and we stay there in silence for a moment.

“Where’s Hugo?” he asks.

“He went back to have lunch with his parents. He wishes us both a Merry Christmas.”

I feel him smile against my hair.

That’s when I remember.

“Wait,” I say. “I have something for you.”

I disappear into the bedroom and come back with a small, carefully wrapped package. He takes it with curiosity, studies it briefly before opening it slowly, as if he wants to stretch out every second.

Inside is a transparent resin paperweight, ordinary at first glance. But engraved inside, with meticulous detail: the solar system.

His expression turns thoughtful.

“You remember,” he says softly.

How could I forget?

It was at the Palais de la Découverte planetarium, on an October evening beneath the star-filled dome, while the lecturer spoke about distances too vast to comprehend, that he first told me:

“Je t’aime.”

He had leaned toward me and whispered that no matter how far apart we might one day be, he would always find his way back to me.