Raindrops gently tapped against the window as New York night was shrouded in a damp grayness. I sat by the window of the Brooklyn apartment, cradling a cup of hot tea, watching raindrops trace winding paths down the glass. Leo was already asleep, and the room held only the ticking of the clock and occasional rumbles of thunder.

Outside, the city lights blurred and softened in the rain, resembling a watercolor painting. My thoughts drifted to Ethan—tonight he was attending a financial regulatory hearing, his third appearance as a key witness. Since he decided to come forward with the truth, these hearings had become part of our lives. Each time, he returned exhausted, yet with determination gleaming in his eyes.


The sound of the door lock turning interrupted my thoughts. Ethan walked in, his suit damp, raindrops still clinging to his hair. He looked exhausted, with visible shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes, but when he saw me, a slight smile appeared on his face.

“You’re still up,” he said softly, removing his soaked jacket.

“I was waiting for you.” I handed him a towel. “How was the hearing?”


He took the towel and began drying his wet hair, his movements slow and distracted, as if his mind were still at the hearing. “Difficult, but there’s progress,” his voice carried a hint of fatigue and satisfaction. “The committee seems to be genuinely listening, not just going through the motions. At least half of my reform proposals are being seriously considered.”

I poured him a cup of hot tea. “You’re doing well, Ethan. Coming forward with the truth, pushing for reforms—it takes tremendous courage.”


He took the cup, our fingers touching again, lingering longer this time, like a silent gesture of support and understanding.

His gaze softened, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly into a tired but genuine smile. He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, revealing the white shirt underneath with the top two buttons undone, exposing a small patch of bronze skin. He sat down on the sofa across from me, leaning forward, both hands cradling the teacup as if drawing warmth from it.

“I have an idea,” he said, his eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement, that enthusiasm dispelling the fatigue from his face. “About your parents’ research and legacy.”

“What idea?” I asked curiously, infected by his sudden enthusiasm.

“Professor Johnson—your parents’ colleague we met last week—he suggested restarting your parents’ research project and establishing a scholarship in their name,” Ethan explained. “Also, I’ve been considering creating a financial ethics foundation focused on promoting industry transparency and ethical standards. I’d like you to be a co-founder, with equal decision-making authority.”

I looked at him in surprise, feeling a warm emotion spreading in my chest. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious.” His gaze was determined, his blue eyes particularly bright in the lamplight. “No one understands the dark side of this industry better than you, and no one is more qualified to drive change. This foundation can be a continuation of your parents’ legacy, and our way of creating a better world for Leo.”

I felt a wave of warmth surge through me. This proposal wasn’t just recognition of my professional abilities, but a tribute to my parents’ values. Ever since Ethan had brought me that album collecting my parents’ photos and memories, I had been thinking about how to ensure their spirit and work continued to make an impact.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll consider it,” he smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. “We can design its structure and mission together, ensuring it truly makes an impact.”

I nodded, feeling a long-absent excitement and hope. This was an opportunity to transform past pain into future strength, a way to let my parents’ spirit continue to influence the world.

—

Two weeks later, we met with Professor Johnson and several other former colleagues of my parents at a quiet restaurant to discuss specific plans for the foundation. Watching these scholars who had once worked with my parents enthusiastically sharing ideas, I felt a wonderful connection, as if my parents’ spirits were still present.

“Your father always said that finance isn’t just a numbers game—it’s about people’s lives,” Professor Johnson recalled, nostalgia gleaming in his eyes. “He believed the financial system should serve society, not the other way around.”

“That’s exactly the philosophy our foundation wants to promote,” Ethan said, his hand naturally resting on the back of my chair, that protective gesture giving me a strange sense of security. “Financial transparency and ethical responsibility shouldn’t just be slogans—they should be practices.”

After dinner, we walked along the Hudson River. The evening breeze carried the freshness of the water, and distant city lights danced on the surface. Ethan walked beside me, our arms occasionally touching, each contact making my heart beat a little faster.

“How does it feel?” Ethan asked softly. “Meeting them? Hearing these new stories about your parents?”

“Like finding a part of myself again,” I admitted. “All these years, I’ve focused on moving forward, on Leo, on work. I almost forgot to look back and understand where I came from. The album you brought me, and now this foundation… it all makes me feel reconnected with my parents.”

“Your parents would be proud of you, Olivia,” he stopped walking and turned to me. “You’ve become an excellent investigator, an amazing mother, a brave woman.”

In the moonlight, his eyes sparkled with tenderness. The distance between us seemed to shrink, the air filled with an undeniable tension.

“Ethan,” I said softly, feeling my heart race, “these past few months, watching you with Leo, seeing you stand up for justice, striving for change… I’ve begun to know you anew.”

“And I never stopped loving you,” he said directly, his voice deep and sincere, without a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Even during those years when I thought you chose to leave, I never truly let go.”

His confession made my heart race. Eight years is enough time to change a person, to heal wounds, and for love to transform. But standing here, facing this man willing to sacrifice everything for his son and for justice, I felt that the old spark had never truly died.

“I’m afraid, Ethan,” I finally admitted. “Afraid of being hurt again, afraid of disappointing Leo, afraid we can’t overcome the shadows of the past.”

“I’m afraid too,” he unexpectedly admitted, stepping forward and gently cupping my face in his hands. “But I’m more afraid of missing the chance to spend the rest of my life with you and Leo. We’ve already lost too much time, Olivia.”

His thumb gently brushed my cheek, the touch warm and familiar. I closed my eyes, feeling him draw near, then his lips softly touched mine.

The kiss began gently and tentatively, like a question, a request. But when I responded, it deepened, grew more passionate, eight years of separation and longing melting in this moment. His arms encircled my waist, pulling me closer, while my fingers ran through his hair, feeling his warmth and strength.

When we finally parted, both somewhat breathless, Ethan’s forehead rested against mine. “I love you, Olivia,” he said softly. “I want to build a real home with you and Leo. Not a temporary arrangement, not for convenience, but because we belong together.”

I felt my eyes grow moist, the defenses I’d built over years crumbling in this moment. “I love you too, Ethan. I always have.”

He kissed me again, this time more passionately, more certainly, like a promise, a new beginning. Moonlight bathed us as the river gently lapped against the shore, as if applauding our reunion.

—

The foundation’s launch ceremony was held in a small conference hall. Ethan stood at the podium, confidently yet humbly introducing the foundation’s mission and plans.

“This foundation isn’t just to commemorate the academic contributions of Professors Reed,” he said, “but also to ensure similar tragedies never happen again. The financial industry needs more transparency, ethics, and accountability.”

His speech was sincere and powerful, without flowery rhetoric, only firm commitments and a clear vision. When he introduced me to the stage, his eyes were filled with pride and love.

After the event, we returned to the Brooklyn apartment. Leo was already asleep under Mrs. Chen’s care. Only a small lamp was lit in the living room, creating a cozy atmosphere.

“Today was a success,” I said softly, removing my high heels. “Professor Johnson said he’s already received cooperation intentions from several universities.”

“Yes, this is just the beginning,” Ethan loosened his tie and walked to my side. “But right now, I want to focus on another important matter.”

“What’s that?” I looked up at him, my heartbeat quickening as his body drew near.

He didn’t answer immediately but bent down to kiss me, this kiss more passionate, more urgent than the one by the river. My arms encircled his neck as I felt his heartbeat synchronize with mine.

“I want to focus on you,” he whispered between kisses, “on us.”

His hand slid down my back, causing me to shiver. Eight years of separation, eight years of longing, transformed in this moment into irrepressible passion. We stumbled toward the bedroom, lips locked, fingers eagerly undoing each other’s clothes.

When we finally fell onto the bed, Ethan paused, looking deeply into my eyes. “Are you sure?”

My response was to pull him closer and kiss him again. Under the moonlight, we rediscovered each other’s bodies, each touch like a confession, each kiss like a promise. His fingers traced the curves of my body as if memorizing every inch of skin; while I explored the new scars on his shoulders and chest, those medals earned protecting us.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear, his voice husky with emotion and desire. “I’ll never let you go again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, my fingers running through his hair, feeling his warmth and strength. “From now on, we face everything together.”

—

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, gilding the room with a golden layer. When I woke up, I found Ethan had already risen, the other side of the bed empty. Just as I wondered, the bedroom door was gently pushed open, and Leo bounced in, followed by Ethan carrying a breakfast tray.

“Mom! Dad says today is a special day!” Leo excitedly climbed onto the bed, sitting beside me.

“Is it?” I smiled at Ethan. “What special day?”

“The first day of our family,” Ethan answered, placing the tray on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with a happiness and contentment I’d never seen before. “A real family.”

I noticed Leo holding a small box. “What’s that, baby?”

“Dad’s surprise for you!” Leo smiled mysteriously. “He said I could help.”

I took the box, my heart racing. Opening it, I found a simple yet elegant diamond ring, sparkling with warm light.

“Olivia Reed,” Ethan said softly, his eyes full of love, “will you marry me and let us start anew?”

Leo looked at me expectantly, his small hands nervously clenched into fists. “Say ‘yes,’ Mom! Say ‘yes’!”

I looked at these two most important people in my life, feeling tears of happiness well up. After eight years of separation, countless misunderstandings and hurts, we had finally found our way home.

“Yes,” I said softly, then repeated more firmly, “I will.”

Ethan’s smile lit up the entire room as he leaned forward to give me a gentle, promise-filled kiss. Leo cheered and threw himself into our embrace, the three of us holding each other tightly.

In this embrace, I felt all the love, hope, and promises. Not without fears and doubts, but choosing to believe that love’s power was enough to overcome all obstacles. Leo lifted his head from our embrace, his green eyes sparkling with innocence. “Now we’re a real family, right?”

“Yes, baby,” I kissed his forehead, feeling the completeness and fulfillment of this moment. “We always have been—we just finally found each other.”

Ethan’s gaze met mine, those deep blue eyes containing too many inexpressible emotions—gratitude, joy, commitment, and that love made even stronger after weathering the storm. He gently squeezed my hand, the ring sparkling in the sunlight like our reborn hope.

[The End]