The next morning, Catherine woke with a quiet sense of purpose, the kind that came from something simple and sincere. She turned slightly on the bed, reaching out instinctively, but the space beside her was empty.

Her brows drew together.

So he was already up.

A small part of her felt oddly dissatisfied. She had wanted to do something for him—something small, something domestic, something that belonged only to them. After everything he had done, she wanted to give him at least this.

She got up, dressed quickly, and stepped out of the room, still holding onto that intention.

But halfway down the stairs, she stopped.

Maximilian was walking up toward her, steady and composed, carrying a tray with a full breakfast laid out neatly, a cup of coffee steaming softly beside it.

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed, half amused and half defeated.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you," she said.

He smiled, that familiar, effortless smile that always seemed to disarm her.

"But I already did."

Of course he did.

Catherine pressed her lips together, trying not to show how much that annoyed her. Somehow, even in the smallest things, he managed to stay one step ahead.

They moved to the balcony, where the morning stretched out before them in quiet, breathtaking beauty. Rolling hills blanketed in snow, pine trees swaying gently in the breeze, the sky pale and clear—it felt almost unreal, like a painting brought to life.

They ate together, the warmth of the food and the coffee settling into them as the cold air brushed lightly against their skin.

For a while, Catherine let herself get lost in the view.

Then, slowly, her attention shifted.

She turned to look at him instead.

Maximilian.

The man who had brought her here.

The man who had built all of this.

The man who was, very clearly, planning something.

"Get dressed warmly," he said after a while, his tone calm, almost casual. "We’re going for a walk."

Catherine blinked.

A walk?

That was... unexpected.

Her eyes lingered on him, trying to read between the lines. This should be it, shouldn’t it? The proposal, the moment he had been dragging out, the reason for all of this.

And he was saying it like they were just... going for a walk?

She didn’t question it.

Instead, she stood, leaned down, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before heading back inside.

If this was going to happen, then she was going to be ready for it.

In every way.

Inside the room, she took her time getting dressed, carefully choosing something that balanced warmth and charm. She refused to compromise on comfort—there was no point freezing just to look pretty—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look good while staying warm.

When she was done, she took a moment to look at herself, adjusting small details, making sure everything felt right.

Then she stepped out.

Maximilian looked up.

And the moment his eyes landed on her, something shifted in his expression.

Subtle, but unmistakable.

Approval.

Warmth.

Something softer.

Catherine caught it immediately.

She tried to remain composed, but the reaction settled into her chest, spreading warmth in a way she couldn’t ignore. Her fingers lifted to her cheeks as she lightly patted them, trying to steady herself.

She didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

Didn’t want to assume too much.

But her heart...

Her heart was already racing, anticipation building with every passing second.

Wearing her knee-high boots and holding his hands tightly in her gloved ones, Catherine walked beside him, leaning into his shoulder as though it was the most natural place for her to be. She half dragged him along at times, her steps eager, her energy restless, and he let her—without resistance, without complaint.

She loved this.

She loved how easily he gave in to her, how he allowed her to take liberties she wouldn’t dare take with anyone else. There was a comforting weight to it, a deep, settling warmth in her chest. Around him, she didn’t have to measure herself. She didn’t have to think twice before speaking, didn’t have to calculate every word or gesture.

He would love her anyway.

That certainty wrapped around her like something steady and unbreakable.

She did think about Dorian, although she hated herself for it. This sharp pang of fear shook her out of nowhere. But she looked at Maximilian.

Yeah... Everything will be alright!

As they walked, she lifted her phone, recording little pieces of the moment—his face, the way he looked at her, the way the light touched him, the quiet beauty of everything around them. Sometimes the camera drifted to the snow-covered trees, the soft crunch beneath their feet, but it always returned to him.

Maximilian took the phone from her at one point and turned it toward her instead, capturing her laughter, the way her eyes lit up, the way she leaned into him without hesitation.

But she took it back soon enough.

She wanted this.

She wanted to remember him like this.

Every expression. Every glance.

He led her through the dense trees, their branches heavy with snow, until the path began to open. The air shifted, the space widening, and then—

They stepped into a clearing.

And beyond it...

A lake.

Frozen now, its surface smooth and pale beneath the winter light, stretching out in quiet stillness. It was breathtaking in a way that felt almost sacred.

Catherine’s steps slowed.

Then stopped.

Her phone lowered in her hand without her realizing it.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the lake, but her mind had already gone elsewhere.

In another life... it had begun like this.

A lake.

A moment that changed everything.

That was where she had first understood what she felt for him, with that ribbon slipping from her fingers... where something unspoken had taken root in her heart and refused to leave.

And in that same place...

It had ended.

The memory came back with a quiet ache—the cold water, the bracelet slipping from her fingers, the finality of that moment.

And now...

Another life. Another chance.

This time, nothing was uncertain. Nothing was left unspoken between them. Their love had already been said aloud, already chosen, already held onto.

And still...

He had brought her here.

To a lake.

Catherine turned slowly to look at him.

Maximilian was already watching her.

There was a softness in his expression, something deeper than his usual calm, and she noticed the faint reddening in his eyes, as though he too understood what this place meant—not just to her, but to both of them.

He hadn’t chosen this by accident.

He never did.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence between them wasn’t empty.

It was full of memories, of things lost and found again, of everything they had carried across lifetimes to stand here like this.

Together.

And... Maximilian knelt on the snow in front of her.

Catherine’s hands flew to her mouth. Her phone was forgotten in her pocket.