Paris greeted them softly.
Not with grandeur or spectacle—but with quiet beauty. Early winter air brushed against Ivie's skin as she stepped out of the car, the city glowing under pale lights, streets humming with life and romance.
She held her coat tighter around herself and smiled.
"I can't believe I'm here," she said.
Femi watched her carefully, as though memorizing the moment. "You deserve more than belief," he replied. "You deserve certainty."
They walked slowly along the Seine, hands brushing, not quite holding. The twins were safe back in Lagos with trusted care, and for the first time since becoming a mother, Ivie allowed herself to feel like a woman again—desired, chosen, whole.
"You're quiet," she said after a while.
"So are you."
She laughed softly. "Paris does that."
"No," he said. "You do."
That evening, he took her to a private rooftop overlooking the Eiffel Tower. The city shimmered below them, lights reflecting like stars fallen to earth.
Dinner was intimate. No audience. No spectacle.
Just them.
As dessert was cleared away, Femi stood and reached for her hand.
Her heart stuttered.
"Ivie," he said quietly. "Once, I thought love was weakness. I thought needing someone meant losing myself."
She felt tears rise but didn't look away.
"You taught me that love doesn't erase strength," he continued. "It gives it purpose."
He lowered himself onto one knee.
Gasps echoed faintly from nearby tables—but Ivie heard nothing but her own heartbeat.
"I won't trap you. I won't control you. I won't love you with fear."
He opened the box.
"I will choose you—every day—if you'll let me."
Tears spilled freely now.
"Yes," she whispered.
Then louder. "Yes."
He stood, pulling her into his arms, forehead pressed to hers as the Eiffel Tower glittered behind them.
The wedding was quiet.
Intentional.
On Christmas Eve, surrounded by candlelight and soft music, Ivie walked toward Femi with steady steps and a calm heart. No fear. No doubt.
Only love.
When he slipped the ring onto her finger, his hands shook.
"I promise," he said, voice thick, "to never doubt your worth again."
She smiled through tears. "And I promise to always choose you—without losing myself."
They kissed as snow began to fall outside the windows.
Back in Lagos, life unfolded gently.
The twins grew strong and curious. Laughter filled the house. Ivie's siblings thrived. And Femi da Silva—the man once known as a billionaire playboy—became known for something else entirely.
Devotion.
One evening, Ivie stood on the balcony, watching the city glow.
"You happy?" Femi asked, joining her.
She leaned into him, smiling. "I'm home."
He kissed her temple. "So am I."
Below them, Lagos roared on—unaware that a love born from hate, tested by lies, and forged by choice had found its forever.
THE END