Contract Marriage: I’ve Always Loved You

The car pulls into the driveway of our New York mansion, and as the driver opens the door, I step out and take Evan in my arms from his cot.

As Grace and Giana emerge from the car, my gaze turns towards them and my eyes soften, feeling immense contentment with her and our babies’ presence.

When I left the house for the meeting a few days ago, I wasn’t at peace. All I wanted was Grace. I just longed for her presence. Little did I know that when I returned, I would not only have Grace with me but also these two adorable munchkins who fill me with immense strength and love just by being there.

“Let’s go,” I say, giving a small smile to Grace as I notice her staring at me and then at the mansion, looking a little nervous. She nods, and we move towards the entrance.

The house is decorated with balloons and banners. It’s as if the entire mansion is prepared for a celebration.

We walk to the main entrance, cradling the twins. The door opens, and Dad gives a stern look to Grace before looking at the twins with awe and affection.

“Welcome home, my angels.” Dad’s voice carries genuine happiness as he extends his arms to take Giana from Grace.

She hands over our daughter to him, and he kisses her forehead.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

As we step inside, he suggests, “I have something special in mind. Let’s capture the memories by taking the footprints of twins.”

“Wow! Dad, it is such a wonderful idea.” As I appreciate his idea, he smiles at me.

He glares at Grace before moving his eyes back to me. “But ask your ex-wife to go to her room because I can’t tolerate her presence.”

I glance at Grace. Her eyes have become moist after listening to his harsh words. My heart aches to see her upset, but taking a deep breath, I compose myself.

“Dad, please, she is the mother of Evan and Giana. She deserves to be there in their special moments.” I explain to him.

“Isn’t it enough, Steve, that I’m allowing her to stay here with us?” He questions me after glaring at Grace.

“Dad-” before I can convince him, she intrudes.

“It’s okay, Steve. I’m going to the room.” She leaves from there, disheartened, and I clench my hands, controlling my anger. He just can’t keep hurting her. I know he is my father, and he has every right to be angry at her, but not like this. He can’t keep insulting her.

“Dad, please stop doing this. She is getting hurt.” I plead with my father, my tone laced with frustration and concern. My heart aches to see her in pain.

“Don’t tell me you love her, Steve.” I pause, taken aback by my father’s direct question.

Love? Of course, I still love Grace, despite everything that has happened between us. My love for her remains unwavering. I’m hurt and may feel anger at some point, but that doesn’t mean I will stop loving her. It’s not in my hands. My heart still beats for her, no matter what.

I inhale deeply before expressing my true feelings. “Dad, it’s true that I love her, and I’ve never stopped loving her since the day I met her. I’m ready to make her a part of our family.” It was necessary to speak from the heart; otherwise, Dad would continue to insult her.

“Please don’t do this because you’ll regret it, my son. Don’t trust that woman.” His words hit me, stirring up conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to lash out in defence of Grace, to stand up for the woman I love despite my father’s disapproval. But another part of me, a smaller and quieter voice, whispers doubts and fears, reminding me of the pain and heartache that Grace has brought into my life.

“Dad, I understand your concerns,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “But Grace has changed. She’s not the same person she was before. I believe in giving her a second chance, and I need to follow my heart, even if it means facing more challenges along the way.”

“Steve, let’s just drop this topic and take the footprints of the twins. They’re waiting.” Reluctantly, I agree to drop the conversation, knowing that pressing further won’t convince him. Maybe with time, he can trust Grace again, and I can trust her completely.

He leads the way to the hall where the footprint kits are set up.

As we settle down, he asks, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “This is a beautiful way to mark their arrival, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

We carefully place Giana and Evan’s tiny feet on the ink pads and then onto special paper, creating precious imprints that will be cherished for a lifetime.

I wish Grace would be part of this moment, sharing the joy of creating these imprints together.

As we finish capturing the footprints, Dad gathers the kits to preserve the prints, and I cradle the twins in my arms and feel a void without Grace by my side.

“You take twins to the room. I have arranged every necessary thing for them. When they wake up, bring them to my room.”

I nod in response and head to my room, cradling the babies.

As I step into the room, I spot Grace standing by the window, deep in her thoughts. The room felt so empty in her absence, but now it feels whole again with her presence. I can’t shake off the memories of those restless nights where I lay awake, gazing at the ceiling, longing for her to be by my side.

After gently placing Giana and Evan into the crib, I stroll towards her.

“Grace.” As I call her, she pulls out of her thoughts and turns towards me.

Her eyes are red from the tears she’s been holding back. “Steve, I can’t bear this. Your father’s hatred is tearing me apart.” She admits, her voice choked with emotion.

I control my emotions, clutching my hands. “Grace, give him some time. He is hurt. I’m sure he’ll forgive you with time.” I reassure her, placing my hand on her arm.

“I missed the bond we used to share before. I hope I can earn his trust back. And thank you, Steve, for being there for me. It means a lot.” After expressing her gratitude, she walks towards the crib.

As she reaches there, she leans over to see Giana and Evan. Suddenly, Evan’s tiny hand clutches a handful of Giana’s hair, causing her to cry out loudly.

Oh, shit! I rush to them.

“Oh, Evan, sweetheart, let go of your sister’s hair.” She gently tries to release his grip, but Evan seems determined to hold on.

I quickly join her, trying to loosen Evan’s grip on Giana’s hair. “Easy, little guy. You don’t want your sister to cry, do you?”

Despite our efforts, Evan refuses to let go, unaware that he’s hurting his little sister. Giana’s cries intensify, and we exchange concerned glances. I just can’t see this.

“Maybe if we distract him with a toy?” Grace suggests, reaching for a nearby rattle.

We rock the rattles over Evan, hoping he’ll release his hold on Giana’s hair. However, he remains stubborn, holding on with surprising strength for such a small baby.

“Please, baby, leave your sister’s hair. It’s hurting her.” I request him while Grace tries to soothe Giana.

We let out a sigh of relief as finally, after some gentle coaxing and distraction with a soft toy, Evan releases her grip. Her cries subside as Grace soothes her, holding her close to her chest.

“It’s not good to hurt your sister, Evan. You must protect her.” I explain to him, stroking his cheeks, and he gives me an innocent smile.

God! I know he didn’t know what he was doing, but I still feel frustrated at the situation. As much as I love my son, seeing him hurt his sister like that fills me with a mix of emotions. I want to protect both of them.

As Grace smiles through her relief, I can see the love and warmth in her eyes. “He’s our little troublemaker,” she remarks, her voice filled with affection as she gazes down at Evan.

“He’s got your mischievous side, ex-wife.” I tease.

She grins. “Thank God! He won’t be boring like his father.”

“Seriously, you think I’m boring?” I raise my brows at her, crossing my hands over my chest.

“Maybe just a little, but that’s what makes you endearing, Mr. Boring.” She chuckles, bringing a smile to my face.

This banter reminds me of our old days. It was like a never-ending battle of words between us.

Giana is now calm in Grace’s arms, her curious blue eyes darting between us as if she is enjoying the banter between her parents.

“I guess our little Evan just wanted to make a grand entrance,” Grace remarks, giving Giana to me and cradling Evan in her arms.

I respond, “Grand indeed. Well, they’re certainly keeping us on our toes.”

“Evan, promise your mama you won’t hurt your sister again,” Grace implores our little boy.

“Aww… my princess, your brother hurt you,” I murmur as I caress Giana’s hair, feeling guilty for not being able to protect her from her brother’s grasp. It must have hurt her so much. Her cries still echo in my mind.

“She’s fine now, Steve.” As she reassures me, I nod, still stroking her hair, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards her.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him,” I remark, glancing over at Evan, who is now gazing at us with innocent curiosity.

“I have a solution. Don’t worry,” Grace says, and I raise my brows at her, curious about her plan.

“What?” I inquire, my hand continuing to caress Giana’s hair without pause.

“Mittens. We’ll make them wear mittens, then they won’t be able to hurt each other. Specifically, my naughty little Evan,” she responds, rubbing her nose against Evan, causing him to giggle. His laughter is like a melody to my ears.

“Wow! Now you have a solution to every problem. You have become smart, my ex-wife.” I tease her in a playful tone.

She smirks, adjusting Evan in her arms. “I’ve always been smart. You’re just seeing it now, my ex-husband.”

I chuckle at her response. “Fair enough. You’ve always been one step ahead.”

As I constantly stroke Giana’s soft hair, she falls asleep soundly in my arms. I gently place her in the crib and press my lips on her forehead before rushing to the dressing room and returning with two pairs of mittens.

“Now they can’t hurt each other.” I sigh after making them wear the mittens, and Grace just smiles at me.

She looks so gorgeous when she smiles with all her heart, and I really want to always keep seeing her smile like this. It’s a sight that warms my soul and brings me so much joy. I love her, but there’s still a part of me that hesitates to fully embrace those feelings, afraid of trusting her completely.