Chapter 8
The moment I stepped off the plane, the cold wrapped around me like a familiar embrace -soft, sharp, and strangely comforting. Everything felt quieter here. The snow–muted streets, the stillness in the air… so different from the noise and mess I’d left behind. But none of it hit as hard as the sight of my father waiting at the arrivals gate–eyes misty, arms slightly open like he didn’t know whether I’d accept a hug
I dropped my luggage and walked straight into him.
“I’m sorry” I whispered, holding him tightly. “I should’ve never left. I picked love over you, over everything that mattered… and it cost me everything.”
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He pulled me closer, his voice thick with emotion. “It doesn’t matter now, Sophia. You’re here. That’s what matters.”
Home.
Finally.
We sat quietly in the back of his car as snowflakes drifted down around us like feathers. He reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’ve waited so long for this, he said. “The company’s always been meant for you, Sophia. I should’ve passed it on to you years ago–but now, it’s yours.”
I looked at him, startled. “What do you mean, now?”
He let out a heavy breath and pulled a small
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bottle from his coat pocket–shaking pills inside.
“Because I’m sick. Stage three pancreatic cancer. I haven’t told anyone–not even the board. They’d try to push me out if they knew. But with you back, I don’t have to hide it anymore.”
My stomach dropped.
“What? Dad…” My voice barely made it out. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t want you burdened. After everything you went through, I figured you deserved peace. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever want to speak to me again. I said some terrible things.”
Tears were already streaming down my face before I realized it.
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“But still, Dad… none of this was ever your fault,” I said softly. “I’m the one who didn’t listen. If you’d told me earlier–I would’ve come back. I swear I would’ve.”
He brushed my cheek gently, just like he used to when I was a kid. “I was waiting for you to come when you were ready. And you did. Look at you–you came back on your own terms. Stronger.”
I nodded, voice steady.
“I’ll handle it all, Dad. The business. You. Everything. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”
He smiled softly, eyes tired.
“Thank you. But before you dive in… live a little. Breathe. Let yourself feel joy again.”
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And for the first time in years, I did.
I slowed down. Wandered Oslo’s snowy streets. Sampled strange candies at local markets. Sipped hot chocolate from paper cups as I watched snow pile on rooftops. I even took a husky sled ride in Tromso and laughed like I was seventeen again.
One night, while walking beneath a canopy. of fairy lights, I passed a small wedding boutique. Something pulled me toward it.
I stepped inside. The woman behind the counter greeted me warmly.
“Looking for something special?”
“No,” I said instinctively. “Just browsing.”
But my feet carried me deeper into the
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store until my fingers brushed the fabric of a dress. Simple. Elegant. Ivory satin. Sleeveless. Classic.
Would I have chosen this if things had been different with Elias? Probably not.
But this time, it wasn’t about him.
It was about me.
I slipped into the gown. The saleswoman zipped me up carefully, then gasped.
“It looks like it was made for you.”
I stared at my reflection–unsure of who I was looking at. The woman in the mirror stood taller. Her eyes held strength. She looked like a bride… not waiting for someone, but choosing herself.
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Once, I had worn a dress like this with a heart full of dreams, standing beside a man I believed would never leave. I remembered the way Elias looked at me that day, as if I was his entire world. He whispered promises like vows from a fairytale.
“I’ll protect you. I’ll give you everything. You’ll never feel lonely again.”
And I believed him.
God, I believed every word.
We danced under lights, kissed like we had forever.
But slowly, the fairytale faded. The vows turned to chains. His love turned cold, conditional. I became invisible in my own marriage.
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Now, staring at my reflection, I didn’t see the girl who believed in perfect endings.
I saw a woman who chose herself.
This gown wasn’t for anyone else.
This one… was mine.
Still wearing it, I stepped outside. Snow fell over the veil, catching in my hair as I laughed. People stared. A few clapped. One man even yelled, “Congrats!”
And I didn’t correct them.
Because today, I was marrying my freedom.
Later, I stumbled across a cozy little photo studio and walked in, smiling.
“I’d like a bridal shoot.”
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The man behind the camera looked up.
“Just you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Just me.”
We had just started when the photographer paused and looked up from his lens.
“This is a little wild,” he said, chuckling. “I have another solo bridal shoot booked at the same time. Would you mind sharing the session for a few shots? Could be fun.”
“A double solo shoot?” I asked, amused.
He laughed. “Happens more than you’d think.”
I agreed, smoothing the fabric of my dress as I waited.
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The door behind me opened.
I turned casually-
And froze.
The man who stepped through the door wore a sharply tailored navy suit–the kind that says you know exactly who you are. When he looked up, his brown eyes went wide with shock.
My heart skipped.
“Noah?”
My childhood best friend.
My first love.
He blinked.
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“Sophia?”
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