Semua Bab Your Lips to Mine #7: The Billionaire's Blueprint of Love: Bab 71 - Bab 80

It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly. One moment, I was lost in the chaotic final touches of the resort’s grand opening, juggling endless emails, last-minute tweaks, and a growing sense of tension between Noah and me. And the next, my phone buzzed, signaling a notification I wasn’t prepared for.“Lena, your design has won the prestigious Architecture Excellence Award,” the message from my colleague read, followed by a string of congratulatory emojis.I stared at my screen, blinking in disbelief. My design—my vision—was being recognized. I had worked so hard for this moment, every detail, every hour of sleepless nights, every struggle to bring my ideas to life. But seeing it in writing, seeing the recognition in black and white, hit me harder than I expected.I felt a rush of emotions—pride, excitement, but also something else, something that I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t know what to do with the wave of accomplishment that swept over me. It was a huge milestone in my career, bu

The days following our conversation felt different—lighter, as though we had just shared something important that was finally sinking in. I still couldn’t shake the sense of relief from the reconciliation, but now there was something more. Something that had been there all along, buried beneath layers of misunderstanding and tension. A newfound understanding was starting to take shape, not just about the project we had worked on but about us—about how we fit together, how our differences didn’t have to pull us apart but could, in fact, make us stronger. It was hard for me to let go of the feeling that my independence was something I had to constantly defend. I had spent years carving out my own identity as an architect, fighting for my place in an industry where I often felt like the odd one out. For so long, I had been terrified that if I leaned too much on Noah, I would lose myself, my purpose, and my voice. The fear of being overshadowed was like a constant weight on my shoulders

The days following the major event were a blur, but not because they lacked significance. It was because everything that had transpired—the speech, the public acknowledgment, and the media storm—felt like a whirlwind I had never fully anticipated. As the world caught wind of the grand opening and the shift in the narrative surrounding the resort, the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. It was a surreal feeling to witness the transformation of public opinion, especially after having been under so much scrutiny for so long. The media buzzed with excitement, and for the first time, I felt like the spotlight wasn’t just on Noah, but on me. The critics who had questioned my involvement in the resort project—the ones who doubted my role as an architect, who insinuated that my contributions were minimal because I was only “Noah’s partner”—had fallen silent. The stories were no longer about me being in his shadow; they were about my work, my vision, and the undeniable contribution I had ma

The grand opening had been everything we could have hoped for—successful, celebrated, and filled with moments of recognition for the resort, for the hard work we had put in, and for the way we had fought to make our vision a reality. But now, with the event behind us, there was something more pressing on my mind: the journey that had led us here. Noah and I stood together in the quiet of the resort, the excitement of the evening fading into a peaceful stillness. The lights of the grand space reflected off the polished surfaces, and the sound of soft murmurs from the last of the event’s guests slowly quieted down. For a moment, it was just the two of us, surrounded by the very thing we had built with our hands, our dreams, and our determination. The resort wasn’t just a product of our professional expertise—it was a symbol of everything we had experienced together, everything we had faced both personally and professionally. I glanced at Noah, his profile illuminated by the soft glow

The evening unfolded with a quiet, almost serene calmness that I hadn’t expected. After the whirlwind of the grand opening, all the celebrations, the press, the meetings, and the endless congratulations, it felt as though the world had slowed down just for us. The resort, standing tall and beautiful in the background, was a symbol of everything we had worked for—not just as business partners but as a couple. Noah and I had come through so much together—navigating both professional and personal challenges—and now, we were finally able to step back and look at everything we had built. Noah stood beside me as we walked through the resort, the soft hum of voices and music from the earlier celebrations fading into the background. The soft light from the chandeliers overhead created a warm, intimate atmosphere, and for the first time in a long time, I felt the weight of the past few months fall away. The tension, the pressure, and the doubts that had followed us throughout the process had