The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 128: Let me…. Click.

Click.

The sound of the shutter made both Mara and Ethan look up.

Vera stood a few feet away, phone in hand, grinning like she’d just caught the sunrise in a jar.

"I had to," she said, already pulling up the photo. "You guys looked like a painting."

Mara blinked, cheeks flushing.

Ethan chuckled, still resting one hand gently over the spot on her belly where the babies had just kicked.

Vera turned her phone toward them. The image was simple but breathtaking—Mara standing slightly sideways, her dress flowing gently, Ethan crouched in front of her, eyes locked on her belly like it was the most sacred thing in the world. Their fingers touched. Their faces glowed. It was full of life and emotion and a stillness that screamed love.

Vera looked at it again, then turned and waved excitedly. "Mom! Bella! Come see this!"

Mara didn’t even have time to respond before Valerie and Bella were suddenly there, huddled around Vera’s phone.

"Oh my God," Valerie whispered. "That is beautiful."

Bella blinked quickly, clearly fighting tears. "That’s my grandbabies in there," she said, placing a hand over her chest. "I want a copy of that."

Then her eyes sharpened on Mara’s belly. "Did you say they kicked?"

Mara nodded slowly.

Valerie moved first, reaching out with an aunt’s instinct and awe. "Can I feel?"

Ethan gently stepped back, giving them room.

Bella was more direct. "Move aside, boy."

Ethan laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Yes, ma’am."

Both women placed gentle hands over the curve of Mara’s stomach, waiting.

And just like that—thump.

Valerie gasped.

Bella nearly squealed. "Oh! There! Right there!"

"Twins," Valerie murmured, her eyes shining. "A blessing."

Mara smiled softly, caught in the glow of it all—but her body was starting to feel the weight of the day. Her legs ached, her back throbbed, and she didn’t realize how tightly she was holding her breath until a small wince escaped.

Ethan noticed instantly.

He was by her side in a second, concern etched across his features. "You okay?"

"I’m just... a little tired," she admitted, pressing a hand to her lower back.

Ethan looked around, then remembered something. "There’s a room in the back. Vera mentioned it earlier—it’s big, quiet, part of the studio. There’s a couch... maybe even a bed."

Mara hesitated.

Bella smiled knowingly. "Go. We’ll keep entertaining ourselves."

Vera winked. "And I’ll be printing this photo in extra large."

Ethan chuckled again, then carefully helped Mara through the soft crowd, his arm around her just enough to guide but not possess. Every move was thoughtful. Quiet. Like he was learning her all over again.

They reached the room moments later.

It was spacious and calm. Art lined the walls, soft cushions littered a long bench, and in one cozy corner stood a low platform bed draped in sheer fabric. It felt like a different world. Safe. Sacred.

Ethan led her gently to the bed, helping her sit and then lie back, her lashes fluttering as Ethan adjusted the blanket over her legs.

Mara sighed in relief. "That’s... much better."

He pulled off his jacket and folded it into a pillow for her head.

"Thank you," she whispered, watching him from beneath heavy lashes.

He didn’t sit on the bed. Just lowered himself onto the floor beside her, crossing his legs, his arm resting lightly on the edge. He looked up at her like she was a constellation he never thought he’d see again.

"You look tired," he said softly, kneeling beside the bed again.

"Carrying two humans is no joke," she murmured, lips curving.

He smiled, then hesitated. "Would you... Would you let me rub some oil on your belly? It might help with the tightness. Vera left a few essential oils here—lavender, chamomile, orange blossom..."

Mara blinked at him, then looked toward the nearby table. A few small bottles sat there like tiny vials of calm.

"You pick," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

Ethan’s heart ached a little at that. She still trusted him. Even after everything.

He picked up the orange blossom, uncapped it, and let the citrusy-sweet scent drift between them. "This one reminds me of spring mornings," he said, pouring a few drops into his palm. "Warm. Fresh. Hopeful."

He turned to her, hands slick with the oil. "May I?"

Mara opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. Her instinct was to say no. There was something intimate, too intimate, about the idea. But before she could answer, Ethan spoke again, softer this time.

"I won’t bite," he said with a teasing smile, but his eyes held something much deeper. "And you shouldn’t have to reach over yourself just to do something that should feel good."

His gaze lingered on hers for a moment, asking—not assuming.

After a pause, Mara slowly nodded, lying back a little more. "Okay... just be gentle."

"Always," he said, voice like velvet.

He helped her lift her dress just enough to reveal the gentle roundness of her belly, taut and beautiful, glowing with life. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, warmed the oil between his palms, and began to rub in slow, circular motions across her skin.

Mara gasped softly, not from discomfort, but surprise. The oil was warm. His hands were careful. Reverent.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Ethan kept his touch feather-light, moving slowly, respecting every curve and stretch. His thumbs avoided pressure, just gliding over her like a quiet apology. He wasn’t just rubbing oil into her skin—he was memorizing her, honoring her.

"You’re incredible," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "Your body... what it’s doing. What you are doing? I don’t think I ever truly saw you before. But I do now."

Mara didn’t respond. Her breathing slowed and deepened, and her shoulders relaxed.

He kept going, rubbing gently, pausing every few strokes to warm his hands again. He pressed a soft kiss to her hipbone, light as a breath.

"There, relax," he said softly. "Yes."

Her only answer was a quiet, sleepy hum. Ethan smiled, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. She was already drifting.

The first thing Mara noticed was the scent—orange blossom and something faintly musky.

The second was the weight of calm around her. Her body was light, as if the aches had been replaced with warmth and softness. She didn’t open her eyes just yet. She didn’t need to.

She knew he was still there.

She felt him—his presence like gravity—seated beside her, quiet. Waiting.

Her lashes lifted slowly, the soft overhead light of the gallery studio filtering through the sheer curtains around the bed. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim glow... and then her eyes found him.

Ethan.

Leaning forward in the armchair next to the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed—but not asleep. Just... watching her. Guarding her.

Like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

"You stayed," she murmured, voice rough from sleep.

He looked up quickly, eyes meeting hers. "Of course I did."

There was no apology in his voice this time, no desperation. Just the truth.

Mara shifted slightly, the blanket sliding down her belly. Her hand instinctively moved to rest over it, and she felt a soft kick beneath her palm.

Ethan smiled. "One of them kicked right after you dozed off. It was like a little nudge. Like they knew."

"Knew what?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"That I’m trying," he said simply.

Something inside her tightened. Not painfully. Just... aware.

Her heart had been broken, her trust shattered. But this man—man-this version of Ethan was doing something none of them had expected.

He wasn’t begging for her love back.

He was earning it.

One moment, one breath, one gentle touch at a time.

Mara let out a long exhale and slowly sat up. Ethan moved to help her, but she waved him off with a half-smile.

"I’m okay," she said. "Just stiff."

They sat in silence for a moment. Not awkward. Not strained. Just stillness between two people who had known love and loss—and might be somewhere, somehow, finding their way back to each other.

Then Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out.

A folded piece of paper.

He handed it to her without saying anything.

She looked at him, brows lifting.

"It’s not a grand gesture," he said. "Just... some thoughts. I’ve been writing them down. Every time I want to say something but can’t find the words at the moment. You don’t have to read it now. Or ever. I just—" He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted you to have it."

Mara stared at the note in her hand. Her heart thudded, unsure if she was ready to open it. But something inside her whispered that maybe... she would. When she was alone. When the quiet came again.

"Thank you," she said and meant it.

Ethan stood then, brushing his palms together. "Vera’s probably panicking, thinking I kidnapped you."

Mara chuckled, swinging her legs off the bed.

He offered his hand.

She didn’t take it.

Instead, she stood on her own... and then gently nudged his shoulder with hers as they headed back to the door.

A simple touch.

But in that single gesture, Ethan felt something he hadn’t in a long time: Hope.