{POV Stefan}
The week following Eleanor's visit passed in a blur of legal appointments and paperwork.
I sat in my lawyer's office for what felt like the hundredth time, signing document after document.
Each signature felt like another chain falling away, another link in the prison I'd built for myself over six years finally breaking free. Divorce petition. Asset division proposals. Custody arrangements for shared property.
The marriage that had suffocated me for so long was finally being dismantled, piece by piece.
"She's contesting everything," my lawyer warned, sliding another stack of papers across his mahogany desk.
"Mrs. Hale isn't going to make this easy. She's claiming the affair began before the marriage deteriorated, that you were the one who abandoned your marital duties…"
"I didn't expect her to make it easy." I signed another page without hesitation. "Do whatever it takes. I want this done as quickly as possible."
The lawyer nodded, making notes. "It could take months. Maybe longer if she drags this out."
"Then we settle what we can and fight the rest." I set down the pen, meeting his eyes. "I'm not changing my mind. Whatever she throws at me, whatever accusations she makes—this divorce is happening."
When I left the office, stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, I didn't feel sadness or regret. Just relief—a lightness in my chest that I hadn't felt in years. And impatience. Overwhelming impatience to get back to Lila.
She was still staying at Harper's apartment, insisting on giving me space to handle the legal mess.
She'd said it was the right thing to do, that we needed to be careful, that moving too fast would only give Eleanor ammunition.
Her arguments were logical, reasonable, everything I'd come to expect from someone as thoughtful as Lila.
But I was done with space. Done with waiting. Done with half-measures and careful planning and doing what was expected instead of what I wanted.
I'd spent too many years living a cautious, controlled life—playing by rules that only served to trap me, being the responsible husband, the patient partner, the man who never asked for more than he was given.
It was time to prove, to Lila, to myself, to everyone, that this was real.
I made a call.
That evening, I showed up at Harper's apartment with a folder tucked under my arm. Lila answered the door, surprise flickering across her beautiful face when she saw me standing there unannounced.
"Stefan? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. Better than fine." I stepped inside, nodding at Harper, who was watching from the couch with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk. "I need to show you something."
I led Lila to the kitchen table, spreading out the contents of the folder across its surface. She stared at the papers, confusion crossing her features as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
"What is this?"
"It's a lease. For an apartment downtown." I pointed to the address, tracing the words with my finger.
"Three bedrooms. Close to the university, so you can finish your pre-med courses easily. Close to good hospitals for when the baby comes. I signed it this morning."
Lila's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Stefan, I can't afford…"
"You don't have to afford anything. It's in my name, but it's for us. For our family."
I pulled out another document, laying it beside the lease.
"And this is an account I've set up for you. For medical school applications, tuition, whatever you need. No strings attached. Even if you decide tomorrow that you don't want to be with me, the money is yours."
"I don't understand." Lila's voice trembled, her eyes searching my face for an explanation that made sense. "Why are you doing all this?"
"Because I want you to know this isn't just words." I took her hands in mine, holding them gently, my gaze steady on hers.
"I'm not asking you to depend on me. I'm giving you options. Freedom. A foundation to build whatever life you want—hopefully with me, but even if not, I want you and our baby to be secure."
Lila stared at the papers, tears spilling down her cheeks in silver tracks. "This is too much."
"It's not enough." I cupped her face gently, wiping away her tears with my thumbs.
"You spent years believing you were only valuable for what you could give others. I want to spend the rest of my life proving that's not true. You deserve to be taken care of, Lila. You deserve someone who chooses you without conditions."
From the couch, Harper cleared her throat loudly. "Okay, this is getting sickeningly romantic. Should I leave?"
Lila laughed through her tears, the sound watery but genuine. "Shut up, Harper."
"I'm serious. If you two start making out, I'm shooting myself in the head.."
I smiled, but my attention remained on Lila. "There's one more thing."
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Lila's breath caught, her eyes going wide.
"Stefan..."
"I'm not proposing. Not yet."
I opened the box to reveal a simple silver band with a small sapphire—the color of her eyes, the jeweler had said, and he'd been right.
"This is a promise. That I'm committed. That I'm not going anywhere. That when the divorce is final and the dust settles, I want to build a real life with you. Marriage, family, everything."
I took her hand gently, sliding the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her.
"Will you let me?"
Lila looked at the ring, then at me, then at Harper—who was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't tearing up on the couch, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
"Yes," Lila whispered, the word carrying the weight of everything we'd been through. "Yes, I'll let you."
I pulled her into my arms, holding her close, breathing her in. Her hair smelled like vanilla and something floral, the scent I'd come to associate with home.
For the first time since this whole mess began, the future didn't feel uncertain. It felt like coming home.
"I love you," I murmured against her hair.
"I love you too." Lila pulled back to look at me, her smile watery but radiant. "But you're still not off the hook for making Harper cry."
"I'm not crying," Harper protested from the couch, aggressively wiping her eyes. "I have allergies."
"Sure you do." Lila grinned at her.
I laughed—a real laugh, full and unguarded, the kind I'd forgotten I was capable of making. Then I pulled both of them into an awkward group hug that Harper pretended to hate but didn't pull away from.
"This is weird," Harper muttered against my shoulder. "We're all weird."
"We're family," I corrected her.
She was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "Yeah. I guess we are."
It was messy and imperfect and complicated. But at least it was ours.