Chapter 20

Happiness’s POV

The days felt lighter, but not without shadows. Mason’s presence was constant now, not overbearing, but steady. I wanted to trust him, to believe the promises he made. And yet, doubt clung to me like frost on a windowpane, refusing to thaw.

On a crisp evening, we found ourselves in the kitchen. I was chopping vegetables for dinner, the rhythmic sound of the knife a welcome distraction from the quiet tension between us. Mason leaned against the counter, watching me with an intensity that made my hands falter.

“You’re staring,” I said, not looking up.

“Can’t help it,” he replied softly. “You’re beautiful when you’re focused.”

I paused, setting the knife down, and finally met his gaze. “Flattery won’t make me forget, Mason.”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “I’m not trying to make you forget. I just… I want you to know how I see you.”

I sighed, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it,” I admitted. “If I’m worth it.”

His eyes darkened, and before I could turn away, he closed the distance between us, his hands gentle but firm as they gripped my shoulders. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. “Mason, you don’t understand. Sandra wasn’t just some ex. She’s this… shadow in the corner of the room, always reminding me of everything I’m not.”

He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly. “You’re right, she’s a shadow. And that’s all she’ll ever be. You? You’re the light, Happiness. You’re the one who pulled me out of the dark.”

I swallowed hard, his words hitting me in places I didn’t want to admit were still raw. “I want to believe you.”

“Then let me help you believe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, I stood frozen, caught between fear and hope. Then I nodded, just once, and his arms wrapped around me. It was the first time in weeks I let myself lean into him completely.

Mason’s POV

The next morning, I woke up determined. Happiness had given me a sliver of hope with that touch, and I wasn’t going to waste it. If I wanted to prove I could be the man she deserved, I had to show her I was willing to put in the work.

I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I’d been avoiding for days. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Mason,” Sandra said, her tone content. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

I took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

We met at a café downtown, the air between us tense and heavy. Sandra looked the same as she always had, so polished, poised, and utterly confident.

“What’s this about?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“I need to make something clear,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m done looking back, Sandra. Whatever we had, whatever we could have been, it’s over. I’m with someone now, and she’s the one I want to build my life with.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But then she nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I see,” she said. “She’s lucky. Happiness, is it?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m the lucky one. And you stay away from her.”

The words felt like a weight lifting off my chest. For the first time, I felt free, free to cherish Happiness without the specter of my past hanging over us.

Happiness’s POV

Mason came home late that night, his expression unreadable. I was curled up on the couch, a book in my lap, but I couldn’t focus on the words.

“Long day?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging off his coat. “But a necessary one.”

I frowned, setting the book aside. “Is it about work?”

He hesitated, then walked over and sat beside me, close enough that our knees touched. “I talked to Sandra.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“I told her it was over,” he said quickly, as if he could sense my panic. “Completely and finally. I told her about us.”

“You told her about me?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because you’re the one who matters now. I want you to know there are no more shadows, no more secrets.”

I searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all I saw was sincerity. Relief washed over me, though I fought to keep my voice steady. “Thank you,” I said softly.

He reached for my hand, his touch warm and grounding. “I know it’ll take time, Happiness. But I’m here. For as long as it takes.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

For the first time in weeks, I felt the walls around my heart begin to crack. Mason was trying, and maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other

The following days passed like cautious steps across thin ice, each moment between Mason and I felt fragile, but we were moving forward. He stayed true to his word, transparent in everything he did. It was a strange, bittersweet thing to watch him trying so hard, especially when part of me still wondered if what we were building was something solid or just patching cracks in something doomed to break.

But it wasn’t just Mason who had work to do. My own doubts, my fear of being second-best, they were mine to face. I couldn’t keep expecting him to prove his feelings without meeting him halfway.

That realization hit me one evening as we stood in the kitchen. Mason was leaning over the stove, stirring a pot of soup. I was supposed to be chopping herbs, but instead, I was watching him, my thoughts tangled in the messy knot of my insecurities.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said without looking up.

I startled, fumbling the parsley. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitated, then decided to be honest. “Us.”

He turned off the stove and faced me, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Good thoughts or bad?”

“A little of both.” I smiled faintly, meeting his gaze. “Mason, do you ever think about why this happened? Why did we end up here?”

He stepped closer, leaning against the counter beside me. “All the time,” he admitted. “And the only thing I can come up with is that I was a coward. I let my past control me instead of focusing on what was right in front of me.”

I nodded slowly, staring down at the cutting board. “And I’ve let my fear control me, too.

“That’s fair,” he said quietly. “I hurt you. You have every reason to be cautious.”

“But I don’t want to live like that anymore,” I said, my voice trembling. “If we’re going to do this, I have to stop looking for reasons to doubt you. I have to trust that you mean what you say.”

He reached for my hand, his touch gentle but firm. “Happiness, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you can trust me. But I can’t erase what I’ve done. All I can do is promise that I’ll never make you feel like that again.”

I looked up at him, my chest tight with a mix of fear and hope. “And all I can do is promise to try. To believe you, even when it’s scary.”

He smiled then, the kind of smile that made something deep inside me feel warm and steady. “That’s all I need.”

Mason’s POV

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of soft humming. Happiness was in the kitchen, her back to me as she flipped pancakes. The sight was so achingly normal, so full of the promise of a life we could build together, that it took me a moment to realize she’d noticed me watching.

“Good morning,” she said, her tone light but a little shy.

“Good morning.” I stepped closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a kiss against her temple. “This is a nice surprise.”

She shrugged, flipping another pancake onto a plate. “You’ve been doing a lot for me lately. I thought I’d return the favor.”

It wasn’t just breakfast. It was a step, a small, tentative step toward something better.

Happiness’s POV

Later that day, Mason suggested we go out for a walk. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that bites at your cheeks but leaves you feeling alive.

We wandered through the park, the same park where we’d had so many conversations that felt like endings. Today, though, it felt different.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mason said as we stopped near the frozen pond.

“Dangerous,” I teased, though my tone was warm.

He chuckled, but his expression quickly turned serious. “I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere that means a lot to me.”

I frowned slightly, curious. “Where?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “It’s the place where I realized I wanted to be with you. Really be with you. I think it might help you understand how much you mean to me.”

His sincerity caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Then I nodded. “Okay.”

Mason’s POV

I brought her to the little bookstore on Oak Street. To anyone else, it would seem ordinary. A cozy shop filled with mismatched shelves and the smell of old paper. But for me, it was where everything had changed.

“I came here after Sandra left,” I told her as we stepped inside. “I couldn't stop walking and this was the first place I stumbled upon.”

I led her to a shelf near the back and pulled down a book I’d hidden there weeks ago. When I handed it to her, her eyes widened.

It was a collection of poetry, the cover worn but beautiful. Inside, I’d written a single note: For the person who made me believe in me again.

She looked up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Mason…”

“I bought it for you,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. “But I didn’t give it to you right away because I was scared. Scared that I didn’t deserve you. But I’m not scared anymore, Happiness. I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m going to spend every day trying.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she stepped closer, her arms wrapping around me.

“You’re getting there,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

And in that moment, I knew we were finally moving forward. Together.