Chapter 25

"Let's go home," Oliver's voice cut through the soft rhythm of the rain, snapping Harper back to reality. The lingering tension between them shifted as she studied his face, trying to discern if this was just another one of his playful, teasing moments. His sudden sincerity felt almost too fragile to trust, making her heart race with both hope and fear. She couldn't help but wonder if she was misreading things again, stuck in the endless loop of emotions that had kept her from moving on.

As they entered the house, the cosy warmth contrasted sharply with their soaked clothes. The sound of voices carried from the living room—Eleanor's impassioned pleas to Ian and Aaron about reconsidering their plans to move out filled the air. It was clear she wasn't ready to let go, her words laced with a mixture of hope and desperation.

Harper and Oliver, dripping wet, stepped into the room, causing all heads to turn. Eleanor's brow furrowed in concern as she rushed to grab towels. "What happened? And why on earth are you both soaked to the bone?" she asked, a mix of curiosity and motherly worry in her voice.

Oliver exchanged a quick glance with Harper before replying, "We'll explain everything later," his words carrying an urgency that hinted at more than just the rainstorm they had come in from. With Harper's hand firmly in his, Oliver stepped forward, pulling her along as if what he was about to say could no longer wait and positioned himself in the centre of the room.

"I need to talk to you," Oliver began, addressing his father directly, his voice steady.

Aaron, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, narrowed his eyes in recognition of the weight behind his son's words. Sensing the tension, he suggested, "Maybe you two should dry off first. You'll catch your death like that."

But Oliver shook his head. "No, this can't wait," he said, as he wrapped an arm around Harper's waist. "I can't marry Lizzy."

The room seemed to freeze in that moment. Eleanor's breath hitched, and Ian exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Aaron. Harper stood rooted beside Oliver, the words washing over her, both surprising and inevitable after everything that had transpired between them. A collective gasp escaped the room as Oliver continued, his gaze unwavering as it landed on Harper.

"I can't imagine spending my life with anyone but her," he continued. "I can't envision marrying anyone but Harper." his voice softened as he spoke her name, his eyes, full of tenderness, locked with hers.

Eleanor, unable to contain her happiness any longer, squealed in delight. "I knew it! I just knew it!" She rushed forward, enveloping Harper in an exuberant hug, shaking her joyfully as if she could somehow transfer her own excitement. Her laughter filled the room, a sharp contrast to the emotional tension that had weighed down the past few weeks.

"Is that okay with you?" Oliver asked, looking down at Harper's face, a mix of shock and pure happiness emanating from her. She nodded, her breath hitching, words caught in her throat as she struggled to fully absorb the moment.

After a few minutes, they made their way upstairs, stripping off their rain-soaked clothes and changing into warm, cosy pyjamas. Harper stood in her room, vigorously drying her damp hair with a towel, while Oliver sat on her bed, running his hands through his still-wet locks. The soft hum of the hairdryer filled the room as Harper finished up. When she finally switched it off, the silence between them felt intimate, comfortable. She turned to him, her expression soft but thoughtful.

"How's your leg doing?" Oliver asked, his voice gentle as he recalled the burn she had gotten from the pan earlier that week.
"It's healing," she replied, lifting her leg slightly to check.
"Good," he smiled, visibly relieved. "You should rest. I'm going to head to bed now," he added, standing up and moving toward the door.
But before he could leave, Harper reached out and caught his arm. Her touch was light, yet enough to stop him in his tracks. He turned back to her, concern flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know, it's silly," she started, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "I just... I have this feeling that when we wake up tomorrow, everything's going to go back to the way it was. Like tonight was just a dream."
Oliver stood still, taking in her words. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, a quiet fear that this fragile moment between them might somehow vanish. "Did you want me to sleep in here with you?" he asked, trying to clarify what she wanted.
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "What?! No! That's not what I meant!" she stammered, flustered.
"Are you really sure you want to be with me?" she asked, her voice quieter now, her head dipped, unable to meet his gaze.
Oliver's teasing smile softened. He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Harper, you need to have more confidence in yourself. If anything, you've turned me into a masochist," he joked lightly, though the affection in his words was unmistakable.

"I love you," she mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears. Her voice was barely audible, and there was something about the way she said it that made his chest tighten. It felt as though she was disappointed.

At that moment, Oliver realised he hadn't actually said those three words to her yet. He had always believed his actions spoke louder than words, that she would have understood his feelings from the way he looked at her, touched her, held her close. But sometimes words were necessary. Sometimes they were everything. "You got me," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, lingering there for a moment. "I love you, Harper."

A soft shiver ran through her as she buried her face into his chest, her arms winding tightly around him. He held her there, his chin resting atop her head as he pressed gentle kisses along her forehead. She closed her eyes, melting into the comfort of his embrace, wondering if it was truly possible to be this happy. For a while, they stayed like that, both of them reluctant to let go. But eventually, they pulled apart, exchanging a knowing look before Oliver finally retired to his own room for the night.

Oliver made arrangements to meet with Lizzy after work, determined to end their engagement once and for all. He chose a quiet restaurant, hoping that the setting would soften the blow. When Lizzy arrived, she greeted him with her usual warmth, but there was a slight tension in her smile, as if she already knew what was coming.

As they sat down for dinner, Oliver could feel the weight of the impending conversation pressing down on him. His chest tightened, and though he had made peace with his decision, the thought of hurting Lizzy gnawed at him. He wanted to be honest but gentle. He owed her that much. When the server walked away, Oliver wasted no time.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he began, his voice heavy with remorse. "But I need to be honest—for both of our sakes. I've been lying to myself for too long, and I finally found the courage to confront what I've been avoiding."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow, her eyes searching his face. "So, I was right all along," she said, her voice not angry, but resigned. "You're in love with Harper, aren't you?"

Oliver flinched slightly at how easily she had unravelled the truth. He nodded slowly, unable to deny it any longer. "Yes," he confessed, "I am. But it took your comment to make me realise it. I knew, deep down, that I couldn't marry you while my heart belonged to someone else."

Lizzy chuckled lightly, though it was laced with sadness. "I knew it," she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It always felt like you were holding something back, like there was this invisible wall between us. I just didn't want to admit it to myself." A long silence fell between them, the clinking of glasses and hushed conversations from other tables becoming the only sounds that filled the space. Lizzy took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass.

"For what it's worth," she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, "I never wanted to be someone's second choice. The moment I realised your heart was elsewhere, I knew I couldn't go through with this. It felt like you were staying with me not because you loved me, but because of my grandfather's investment in your company. Like you were sacrificing your happiness for some sense of duty."

Her words hit Oliver hard. He had never intended for it to seem that way, but he understood how it could have come across. He felt a deep pang of guilt, knowing she wasn't wrong. "Lizzy, I never wanted to use you or insult you like that. You're an incredible person, and I've always cared for you. I just—"

"It's okay," she interrupted, her voice now soft but firm. "I know you didn't mean it that way. But it's not about that anymore. I know I deserve someone whose heart is fully with me. I couldn't marry you knowing your feelings are with someone else."

She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and self-assurance. There was no anger, no bitterness, just the calm acceptance of a truth she had already begun to process.

"I respect you for that," Oliver said sincerely. "And for everything. You deserve better than I could have given you. I'm truly sorry for all of this."

Lizzy mustered a small smile, though tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes. "I guess we're done here, then?" she said softly, her voice trembling just a little. She stood up from the table, her posture straight and dignified, despite the obvious pain she was feeling. "Don't worry about my grandfather," she added, her tone more practical now. "I'll explain everything to him. You don't need to concern yourself with that." Oliver's chest tightened as she turned to leave, her footsteps quick but not hurried. He wanted to say something more, but he knew that would only prolong her suffering. She was right—it was time to let go.

His journey to self-discovery had come at a cost, and now he had to live with the aftermath of his indecision and avoidance.

Oliver arrived at the office later that day, and his heart sank when he noticed Mr. Fontaine's sleek black car parked outside. He hadn't expected the older man to react so quickly, nor had he fully prepared himself for this inevitable confrontation. He hurried inside, his pulse quickening as he headed straight for his father's office. He needed to explain, to offer clarity before things spiralled out of control.

"I am truly sorry," Aaron expressed, visibly distressed. "It was never my son's intention to upset your granddaughter, and I'm unsure how to make this right." Aaron had come to the office accompanied by Eleanor and Finley, seeking support and assistance in organising his affairs. Eleanor sat beside her husband, offering him solace, while Finley roamed freely around the office.

Mr. Fontaine sat stiffly in his chair, his face lined with disappointment. "Lizzy was heartbroken," he said, his voice tight. "Crying to me on the phone. What was it about her that your son found so... objectionable?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the love he held for his granddaughter and the pain of seeing her suffer.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Oliver stepped inside, still catching his breath from his rush to the office. All eyes turned to him as he entered, and he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on his shoulders.
"There was nothing objectionable about Lizzy," Oliver began, his voice steady though his heart raced. "She's an incredible woman, and she deserves nothing but happiness. But I've fallen in love with someone else. If I'm going to be truly honest, I've been in love with someone else the whole time."
A heavy silence followed his words. Mr. Fontaine's eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back in his chair, the gears turning in his mind. "But didn't you want to secure our investment?" Mr. Fontaine asked, his voice sharp with curiosity.
Oliver met his gaze, holding his ground. "Of course, the investment would be immensely valuable to us, and I recognise how important it is to our business. But if you decide to pull out because of what's happened, I completely understand." His words were calm, even as his pulse thudded in his ears. He knew the risk he was taking, but he couldn't allow his feelings to be manipulated for financial gain.
Mr. Fontaine sighed deeply, rubbing his temple as though this conversation had already drained him. "It's the girl who lives with you, isn't it? The one in the house?"
Oliver blinked, surprised at how perceptive Mr. Fontaine had been. First Lizzy, now him—it seemed everyone had figured out his heart before he did. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face as thoughts of Harper filled his mind. "It is," he admitted softly. "I'm in love with Harper."
Mr. Fontaine studied him for a long moment before sighing again, though this time it was more out of resignation than anger. "I suspected as much. You young people think you can hide these things, but when you've lived as long as I have, you learn to pick up on the signs." His voice softened slightly, and though his disappointment was evident, it seemed that part of him respected Oliver's honesty. "I adore my granddaughter, Oliver. You know that. But I also see the potential in this company, and frankly, I still believe in its future."

Aaron, who had been holding his breath, exhaled in relief. "So... the investment?"
Mr. Fontaine glanced at Aaron, then back to Oliver. "I'll keep my word and continue with the investment," he confirmed. "But," he added, his tone sharp once more, "I expect to see significant returns. You understand?"
"Absolutely, sir," Oliver replied, a wave of relief washing over him. "With our upcoming projects, I have no doubt the company will succeed."
Mr. Fontaine gave a slight nod, satisfied for now. He stood, signalling the end of their discussion. "I'll be in touch soon," he said, and with a final glance at Aaron, made his way out of the office.
Once Mr. Fontaine left, Aaron let out a long breath, visibly relaxing. "Ollie!" Finley shouted excitedly, running over to his brother.
"There you are, my boy," Aaron said, smiling fondly at his youngest son. "I've been thinking, Oliver. I'm ready to come back to work full-time. I've been feeling stronger, and it's time I take back the reins. You've been carrying a lot on your shoulders lately, and I don't want you to have to keep doing that."
Oliver was surprised but also relieved. "But what about the company? You'll still need someone to take over eventually," he said, knowing his father couldn't work forever.
"I will!" Finley piped up eagerly from his chair. "I'll take over the company. It might take me some time to learn, but I'll do it. You can go back to school, Ollie. Become a doctor."
A wide smile spread across Oliver's face. He had always known Finley was fond of their father's business, but hearing him say it with such certainty brought him unexpected comfort.
Eleanor, who had been silently watching, smiled with deep pride. Everything seemed to be falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, the weight on Oliver's chest felt lighter.
"I just have one more thing to take care of," Oliver said, standing up and glancing at his family before heading toward the door. This might just be the most challenging part yet.

Harper stepped into her father's restaurant that evening, nerves buzzing under her skin. She knew Kunal was working, and as much as she dreaded this conversation, she owed it to him to explain the situation. The kitchen was a whirlwind of noise, pots clanging, orders being called out, and steam filling the air. In the midst of it all, Kunal was working furiously, his movements aggressive, clearly overwhelmed by both the demands of the night and the emotions he was bottling up.
"Kunal, can I speak with you for a moment?" Harper called out, trying to get his attention over the chaos.
He barely glanced up, his face tight with stress. "I'm really busy right now, Harper," he replied, rushing past her with pans in hand, his focus glued to the tasks in front of him.
"Please, it's important," she urged, her voice laced with urgency. She needed him to listen—to understand.
Kunal stopped, just for a second, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "Harper, not now. Can you just leave? I'm not ready to deal with this." His voice was strained, almost pleading for her to walk away and let him maintain his fragile composure.
"Kunal!" A firm voice cut through the tension, and both of them turned to see Oliver standing at the kitchen door, his expression unreadable but resolute. "I need to talk to you. Can we go outside?"
The tension in the room spiked immediately. Kunal's hand clenched into a tight fist, and he threw the sponge he was holding into the sink. "I have nothing to say to you!" he shouted, frustration and hurt radiating from him. "Just leave!"
Oliver, unfazed by the outburst, kept his tone calm, though his words were firm. "I'm taking Harper," he said quietly but with certainty. "I know this feels unfair, and I'm sorry, but I love her. I want to be with her."
Kunal's face flushed an angry red as he stormed toward Oliver, closing the distance between them. "You hated her before! You made her feel miserable, and now, after everything, you suddenly claim to love her? I won't allow it! I love her, not you!" His voice cracked with emotion, his heartbreak spilling out.
Harper, unable to hold back her tears, tried to speak through the sobs, apologising over and over, her words barely audible over the clatter of the kitchen and the pounding in her chest. She had never wanted to hurt him like this.

Kunal looked at her, his expression softening only slightly as he took a deep breath. "I understand, Harper," he said quietly, his voice filled with resignation. "But I've been in love with you for years. It feels like you're being ripped away from me, and nothing I say is going to change that." He swallowed hard, his eyes clouded with a mix of sorrow and bitterness. "But, Harper... I hope you don't regret this later."
Turning back to Oliver, Kunal's anger flared up once more, but this time there was a measure of control. "YOU'D BETTER MAKE HER HAPPY!" he shouted, his eyes blazing with intensity. "IF YOU EVER HURT HER, I SWEAR I'LL MAKE YOU REGRET IT. IF SHE SHEDS EVEN ONE TEAR, I'LL BE RIGHT THERE, WAITING TO TAKE HER BACK!"
Oliver stood his ground, letting Kunal vent without interruption. He knew that Kunal needed this release, needed to feel like he had said his piece in the midst of this heartache. Once the shouting subsided, Oliver's voice was steady and sincere. "That's fair," he said, meeting Kunal's gaze. "I promise I'll take care of her."
With a final look at Kunal, they left the kitchen, Harper's heart heavy with guilt. As they drove home in silence, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face, Harper stared out of the window, lost in her thoughts.
"We've hurt a lot of people today," she said softly, the sadness in her voice unmistakable. It wasn't just Kunal—they had caused a ripple of pain that seemed to extend far beyond just one person.
"We can't live our lives constantly worrying about how our personal decisions affect others," Oliver gently reassured her, his voice steady and calm. He knew the choices they made had caused pain, but deep down, he believed that delaying the truth would have only prolonged the inevitable. Those they hurt would have felt the same heartbreak eventually, whether it happened now or later. But amid all the uncertainty and regret, there was one thing he was absolutely sure of: he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Nothing else mattered more.