CHAPTER 4
Troy kept his promise. He didn't just show up for Elena; he stayed.
He went to her fitting, her fashion shoots, and her late-night design sessions. Sometimes he said nothing at all, just sat quietly while she worked, his presence steady and calm. It wasn't the grand gesture that mattered; it was the small ones. The way he brought her coffee was just how she liked it. The way he remembered every detail about her sketches.
The golden thread on his wrist caught the light each time he reached for her hand, a reminder that some bond couldn't be bought, only earned.
But love, real love, demanded balance.
Elena still had her ambition; she wasn't content to live in Troy's shadow. When an international fashion house offered her a partnership in Paris, she faced the hardest choice yet: stay with Troy in Bologna, or chase the dream she'd fought for her entire life.
When she told him, Troy was silent for a long time. "So this is it," he said finally, voice quiet but steady. "It's not goodbye," she said softly. "It's growth. For both of us."
He smiled faintly. "Then go. But don't think for a second that I'll stop fighting for you."
The months apart tested them both. Elena thrived in Paris, her name whispered through the halls of fashion week. Troy, meanwhile, learned to let go not of her but of control. He ran his company differently, with empathy instead of fear.
They spoke often, sometimes just a call at midnight, or a message after a long day. Distance didn't weaken them. It taught them what love really meant; not possession, but partnership.
One evening, after her final show in Paris, Elena returned to her apartment and found Troy waiting by the window, no announcement, no grand speech, just him.
"You came," she said, surprised. "I told you," he murmured. "I'd fight for you. Even if it means standing quietly unit you're ready."
She stepped closer, their eyes locking in the same tension as before, but now softened by trust.
"You waited," she said. "I wasn't waiting," he replied. "I was living. You just happened to be in every part of it."
And when I finally kissed her, it wasn't like the first time, not born from anger or pride, but peace. Two souls who had finally learned that love wasn't about winning or losing. It was about weaving something strong enough to last.
Months later, their brand merged not by contract, but by creation. The line was called "Threads of Fire." Every piece told its story: passion, pain, forgiveness, and the beauty of rebuilding.
Troy still wore the golden thread on his wrist. And Elena, smiling as she watched him from across the runway, knew one truth above all: sometimes, the most powerful love stories are stitched together not in perfection but in flame.