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Chapter 136 – Damon's POV
She said yes.
Even though she was already mine, she still said yes — eyes shining, voice shaking, heart open. And that meant more to me than I could ever explain.
I stared at the ring now resting on her finger as she slept beside me, curled into the sheets, her hair fanned out on the pillow like ink against parchment. Her breathing was soft, peaceful. Her hand rested on her stomach, right over the ring — like she was guarding the moment, even in sleep.
God, I loved this woman.
And I'd failed her before.
Our first marriage wasn't a wedding. It was a desperate solution, signed on paper, marked by cold silence and broken trust. No vows. No guests. No flowers. Just ink and regret.
But not this time.
This time, I was going to give Arya everything she deserved — and more.
I rolled out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake her, and made my way to the kitchen. The clock read 6:00 AM, but I was too full of adrenaline to sleep. I grabbed my phone, opened my notes app, and created a new title:
"Operation: Arya's Dream Wedding"
Step 1: Make it unforgettable.
Step 2: Make her feel like a queen.
Step 3: No stress allowed.
I paced the kitchen, listing ideas like a madman — floral arrangements, open-air venues, soft string music, Liam walking his mom down the aisle, Hope in a mini flower-girl dress… my throat tightened just thinking about it.
I was going to rewrite every page of our beginning — only this time, with love in every word.
When Arya finally stirred hours later, I was at the table with breakfast prepared — pancakes shaped like hearts, strawberries sliced into roses, and her favorite vanilla tea. She blinked at the sight, then gave me a look.
"You're spoiling me already?" she teased, running her hand through her hair as she walked over.
"I'm just warming up," I smirked, pulling out her chair.
She sat down, eyeing the table with a shy smile. "Last night still feels like a dream."
"It was real," I said, sliding into the seat next to her and taking her hand. "You said yes."
"I did," she whispered, glancing at the ring again. "Even though I'm technically already your wife."
"No," I said gently. "You're legally my wife. But I've never married you — not properly. Not the way you deserve."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean no dusty courthouse. No rushed papers. No awkward silence. I want a wedding, Arya. A real one. With vows. A dress. A thousand pictures. You walking toward me like you own the whole damn world — because you do."
Her lips parted slightly, eyes wide and soft.
"I want everyone to see that you're mine," I continued, voice low with conviction. "Not out of obligation. But out of love. Because if anyone deserves a fairytale, it's you."
Arya swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. "You really want to do all that… for me?"
"For you. For us. For Hope and Liam. I want them to grow up seeing what love should look like. I want them to remember the day their parents promised each other forever — with joy, not pain."
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled anyway. "Then I guess we're planning a wedding."
"No," I said with a teasing grin, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "I'm planning a wedding. You're relaxing and showing up to be adored."
Her laugh broke through the tears. "You're really going all out, huh?"
I stood and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "It's about time, don't you think?"
Arya set down her tea and rose to her feet, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my chest. I held her there for a long moment, her body fitting perfectly against mine, the steady rhythm of her heart syncing with mine.
"I love you, Damon Blackwood," she whispered.
I closed my eyes, holding her tighter. "And I love you, future Mrs. Blackwood — again."
Later that day, I found myself scrolling through wedding planners online, checking out venues, making mental notes. I called Ethan to ask for help with logistics — his excitement was almost louder than mine.
"You're finally doing it right," he said. "About damn time."
"I know," I chuckled. "I owe her this."
"Damn right you do."
Amara was thrilled too. She even suggested a wedding dress shopping day with Arya — and I made a note to cover whatever Arya picked, no matter the price.
Because this wasn't about the cost.
It was about meaning.
It was about redemption.
It was about celebrating the woman who loved me when I didn't know how to love myself.
I walked into the nursery later that evening, where Hope was babbling to her stuffed giraffe and chewing on her tiny fist. I picked her up, held her close, and whispered, "Your mommy's going to be the most beautiful bride in the world."
She cooed at me, as if in agreement.
"And one day," I told her, brushing a kiss over her soft curls, "you'll see these pictures and know that love isn't always perfect… but it's always worth it."
I stood there in the quiet, watching the sun set through the window.
This time, I was doing it right.
And nothing was going to ruin it.
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