The last thing I remembered before losing consciousness was Adrian’s voice.
—Elena!
He sounded terrified.
Not angry.
Not impatient.
Terrified.
For the first time in five years, I heard fear in the voice of the man who had always seemed impossible to shake.
But I was too tired to answer.
The cold had already entered my bones.
The mountain wind swallowed every sound.
And before darkness completely took me, I thought:
So this is how it ends.
Not with a wedding.
Not with a happy reunion.
But alone on a mountain where I finally accepted that I had been waiting for someone who had never truly chosen me.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was white.
A white ceiling.
A white blanket.
A white bandage around my leg.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
Then the pain returned.
And with it…
the memories.
The letters.
The ring.
Serena.
Adrian.
I closed my eyes.
I didn’t want to remember.
But some wounds don’t need to be touched to hurt.
They simply exist.
A doctor entered the room.
—You’re awake.
I nodded.
—How long?
—Almost two days.
Two days.
My fingers instinctively moved toward my stomach.
The doctor noticed.
His expression softened.
—The baby is fine.
I froze.
The baby.
I had forgotten.
In all the pain, all the betrayal, all the humiliation…
I had forgotten the little life inside me.
A tear slipped down my face.
Not because of Adrian.
Because suddenly I understood.
I had almost lost the only person who had loved me without conditions.
My child.
Three days later, Adrian arrived.
I knew before I saw him.
Because the room became silent.
Because everyone looked toward the door.
Because even after everything…
my heart still recognized him.
He stood there.
No uniform.
No confident expression.
No calm mask.
Just a man who looked exhausted.
His eyes immediately found me.
Then moved to my stomach.
His entire body froze.
—Elena…
I didn’t answer.
He took a step closer.
—You were pregnant?
Silence.
A painful silence.
Then he looked at me.
Not Serena.
Not anyone else.
Me.
—Why didn’t you tell me?
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
I looked at him.
—Would you have wanted to know?
His face changed.
—Of course.
I shook my head.
—No, Adrian.
My voice was quiet.
—You wanted to marry Serena.
His lips parted.
—That’s not…
—Thirty-six letters.
He stopped.
The color disappeared from his face.
—You found them.
I looked away.
—Every single one.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
—Elena, listen to me.
I smiled faintly.
—Five years.
He froze.
—Five years I waited for you.
My voice trembled for the first time.
—Do you know how many nights I woke up because I was afraid you wouldn’t come back?
—Do you know how many times I imagined our wedding?
—Do you know how many times I touched my phone hoping your name would appear?
Adrian lowered his eyes.
—But you…
I looked at him.
—You spent those five years writing goodbye letters to another woman.
His expression broke.
For the first time, Adrian didn’t defend himself.
Maybe because there was nothing left to defend.
Maybe because the truth was too heavy.
After a long silence, he said:
—Serena saved my life.
I nodded.
—I know.
—During my first mission, I thought I wouldn’t survive.
His voice became low.
—She was the reason I kept going.
I looked at him.
—Then why did you come back to me?
He didn’t answer immediately.
That silence hurt more than any words.
Finally, he said:
—Because I thought…
He stopped.
I waited.
But he couldn’t finish.
Because we both knew the answer.
He thought I would always be there.
He thought I was the safe place.
The person who waited.
The person who forgave.
The person who never left.
I smiled sadly.
—You didn’t choose me, Adrian.
His eyes turned red.
—I did love you.
I shook my head.
—Maybe.
A pause.
—But love without choosing is just a beautiful excuse for hurting someone.
The next morning, I asked the hospital to discharge me.
I didn’t tell Adrian.
I didn’t tell anyone.
I returned to my mother’s house.
The same room I had left five years earlier.
The same curtains.
The same bookshelf.
The same place where I once sat waiting for his return.
But I was no longer that girl.
My mother hugged me without asking questions.
She already knew.
Mothers always know when their daughters come home broken.
That night, she touched my hair.
—Are you still going to marry him?
I looked at the moon outside the window.
Then at my hands.
The hands that had held wedding invitations.
The hands that had held his letters.
The hands that now protected my child.
—No.
My mother closed her eyes.
And hugged me tighter.
One month later, Adrian came again.
This time, he brought the thirty-six letters.
All of them.
He placed them on the table.
—I want to explain.
I looked at the stack.
—There’s nothing to explain.
He looked at me desperately.
—There is.
He opened the first letter.
—These were written because I thought I was going to die.
I stayed silent.
—But I was wrong about one thing.
He looked at me.
—I thought the person I loved most was the person I missed when I was afraid.
A tear fell from his eyes.
—But the person I wanted to come home to…
His voice broke.
—Was you.
I looked at him.
For a second.
Only one second.
The old Elena almost appeared.
The girl who waited.
The girl who loved him.
The girl who wanted to believe.
But then I remembered the mountain.
The ring.
The kiss.
The words:
“Okay.”
I closed the letter.
—Adrian.
He looked up.
—You didn’t lose me because of Serena.
His breathing stopped.
—You lost me because when you had the choice…
I touched my stomach.
—You chose someone else.
Six months later, my daughter was born.
I named her Clara.
Adrian came to the hospital.
He stood outside the door for a long time.
He didn’t enter.
He didn’t ask.
Because finally…
he understood that loving someone also meant respecting when they no longer belonged to you.
Years later, people still asked me:
“Do you regret waiting five years?”
I always answered:
“No.”
Because those five years taught me something important.
Waiting for someone is not proof of love.
Sometimes it is only proof that you forgot to choose yourself.
And the day I stopped waiting for Adrian Cross…
was the day I finally came home.
