The morning light streamed into the cozy apartment, illuminating the soft chaos of two lives intertwined. Mugs with witty sayings, mismatched throw pillows, and a framed photo of Nilla and Theo from their vacation in Greece—it all screamed one thing: *happy.*
Nilla stood in front of the bathroom mirror, tying her hair up into a sleek ponytail. She adjusted the deep green blouse that made her feel powerful and confident, then grinned as Theo appeared behind her, shirtless and brushing his teeth.
"I still can't believe I convinced you to buy a matching towel set," she said, nudging him with her hip.
Theo spit, rinsed, then grinned at her through the mirror. "Baby steps. You win this round, domestic goddess."
"You love it."
"I love *you*," he corrected, turning her to face him and planting a quick kiss on her forehead. "You ready for your pitch meeting?"
"As I'll ever be." Nilla's heart still fluttered at how far she'd come. In a year, she'd gone from heartbreak to healing to thriving. Now she was leading a new cybersecurity division—and Theo had been her fiercest supporter every step of the way.
He grabbed his button-down shirt from the back of a chair. "I've got a meeting with the Boston branch in an hour, but I'm stealing you for lunch after."
"Done deal."
**Across town…**
James Arton stood in front of a conference room full of execs, tie loosened, whiteboard filled with neatly written strategies.
"Cybercrime prevention isn't just about tools," he said confidently. "It's about mindset. Employee education. Real accountability."
The room broke into applause when he finished.
As they trickled out, his assistant handed him a report. "Also, your application for the mentorship program was approved."
James blinked. "Seriously?"
"You've got your first mentee starting next month. They specifically requested you."
A smile crept onto his face. He'd spent the past year refocusing—on work, therapy, his own personal growth. Losing Nilla had cracked him open, but what had grown in the aftermath was something he could be proud of. He didn't resent her anymore—he respected her. He only hoped she was happy. And from the glimpses he got—she was.
**Later that evening…**
Nilla and Sarah lounged on the couch, wine in hand, reruns playing in the background.
"I'm just saying," Sarah said, swirling her glass dramatically, "if Theo proposes soon, I call dibs on planning the bachelorette party. And it will involve strippers."
"Nope," Theo's voice came from the kitchen. "I will counteroffer with a paint-and-sip event and a very safe party bus."
Nilla giggled, stretching her legs across Sarah's lap. "This man wants to marry me and still thinks he gets a vote in the bachelorette party."
Sarah snorted. "Precious."
Just as Theo returned to join them, his phone buzzed. He frowned at the screen.
"What is it?" Nilla asked, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders.
"Family group message. My father's assistant just sent a calendar invite."
Sarah perked up. "Oooh, fancy rich-people problems?"
Theo didn't answer right away.
"It's marked mandatory," he said finally. "And… it's just titled *The Legacy.*"
Nilla raised a brow. "That sounds… ominous."
He gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. It usually is."
Theo pulled up to the Anderson estate with the same tension he used to feel during childhood dentist appointments. The house was massive, cold in its elegance, and filled with decades of expectation.
He barely made it through the foyer before his mother appeared, arms open but eyes calculating.
"Theodore," she said, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "You're looking well. Corporate life suits you."
He nodded, offering a polite smile. "Where's Dad?"
"In the sunroom. We're waiting for one more guest."
The knot in his stomach tightened.
The guest, as it turned out, was Cassandra Wren—daughter of the CEO of WrenTech, a family-run firm on the brink of merging with Anderson Enterprises.
Cassandra looked like money: sleek hair, designer shoes, and a handshake that meant business. But her eyes didn't sparkle the way Nilla's did when she was about to say something sarcastic.
Dinner was stiff. Polite. Choreographed. Until finally, after Cassandra excused herself, Theo turned to his parents.
"You're not subtle," he said flatly.
His father gave a heavy sigh. "Theo. This isn't about romance. This is about the future."
"This is about *your* future. Not mine."
"Don't be dramatic," his mother interjected. "Cassandra is a smart, respectable woman from a reputable family. You'd make a power couple."
"And Nilla?" Theo said quietly. "Where does she fit into your plans?"
Silence.
"She doesn't," his father finally said. "You two are from different worlds. You know this."
Theo stood, fists clenched at his sides. "You mean she didn't come from money."
His mother looked pained. "It's not just that. Her world is small. Simple. You were raised for something more."
"I don't want 'more' if it means giving her up."
He left without dessert.
---
**That Night – Nilla's Apartment**
Theo sat on Nilla's couch, his head in his hands. She watched him, heart aching, fingers curled tightly around her tea mug.
"They want me to marry someone else," he finally said. "To tie the families together. To protect the legacy."
Nilla's throat tightened, but her voice stayed calm. "And what do *you* want?"
"I want you," he said instantly. "But I also want to protect what I've worked for. What I've built."
She nodded slowly, eyes shimmering. "And I want you. But I'm not going to compete for you, Theo."
His head jerked up. "You don't have to. I told them—"
"I know," she said softly, cutting him off. "But this isn't something we can solve with one conversation. You're being pulled in a hundred directions and I… I need to protect my peace. We've both worked hard to grow. I don't want to be something you have to *choose against* your life."
They sat in heavy silence.
"So, what are you saying?" he asked.
"Let's take a breath," she said. "Not a breakup. Not an ending. Just a step back so we can each think clearly. Figure out what we *really* want and how we get there *together.*"
Theo swallowed hard, eyes burning. "This hurts."
"I know," she whispered. "But sometimes the healthiest thing we can do for love is give it room to breathe."
He nodded.
She reached for his hand. "Promise you'll come back to talk?"
"I will," he said. "I'm not letting you go. Not for good."
As he left her apartment, neither of them looked back—because this wasn't goodbye. It was just a pause.