Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth novel Chapter 80

Chapter 10 

Chapter 10 

Three days until I left. 

I moved through my checklist methodically–packing my suitcase, triple–checking my documents, activating a new phone number. Each action was mechanical, necessary, stripping my life down to its essentials. 

Then, I drained my bank account, converting the bulk of my savings into euros. 

The last thing left to do was find someone to take over the apartment. 

The girl who showed up was warm and full of life, her presence effortlessly brightening the small space. Her boyfriend was with her, his hand resting easily at the small of her back as they moved through the rooms, exchanging quiet, excited glances. 

“Are you leaving all the furniture?” she asked hesitantly, her gaze flickering toward the fridge and couch. “They 

look brand new.” 

They were. 

The old fridge had been a relic and prone to an incessant, grating hum that filled the apartment at night. It disrupted my already fragile sleep, vibrating presence Pax had been the one to replace it 

“You’re seriously too frugal, Cecilia,” he had said, shaking his head as he watched me debate over the price of a carton of eggs. 

Then he had laughed, eyes warm with amusement. 

“You might actually be the stingiest person I know.” 

“Excuse me?” I had tackled him onto the couch in mock outrage. 

The cushions had long since lost their softness, reduced to something stiff and unyielding. Falling onto it had been. like hitting concrete. 

I had winced, and Pax–ever the instinctive protector–had cradled the back of my head, absorbing most of the impact himself. 

“Yeah… this thing is long overdue for retirement.” 

“Fine,” I had agreed, rubbing my sore elbow. “We’ll get a new one.” 

His brows had lifted in mock surprise. “Wow, the miser is finally learning how to spend money?” 

“This isn’t spending–this is investing.” 

“In what, exactly?” 

“In our home.” 

23:07 

Seven Years of Love, Seven Minutes Ana 

Chapter 10 

The new couch had been soft, decadent in its comfort. I had flopped onto it with exaggerated satisfaction, sighing as the cushions embraced me. 

“This,” I had declared, “is what luxury feels like.” 

Now, standing in the same spot, I patted the couch absentmindedly, smiling at the girl. 

“It’s still new,” I said. “But I won’t be taking it with me, so it’s yours if you want it.” 

Her face lit up. She nudged her boyfriend with her elbow, excitement bright in her eyes. “Wow, that’s amazing! Thank you so much!” 

“So we’d love to take the place,” she added quickly. “When would be a good time to sign the lease?” 

“Now works.” 

The contract was signed, the keys handed over. We set the official move–in date for two days later. 

And then, just as we were wrapping up, she pointed at the desk. 

“Oh, is this your boyfriend?” 

I turned. 

It was a framed photo. 

Pax and I. 

Captured in a moment that felt like a lifetime ago. 

We looked… happy. 

Like something that had once been real. Like something unshakable. 

“You two look amazing together,” she said sincerely. “Is he moving abroad with you?” 

A pause. 

A breath 

Then, my answer. 

“No.” 

Not before. 

And certainly not now.