I slid the ring off my finger. Pressed it into his palm.
He stared at it. Then at me, comprehension dawning slowly.
"Is there someone else?"
"Yes." There was no point lying. "But that's not why. Even if there wasn't... we're not right for each other anymore. Maybe we were once. Maybe if the timing had been different, if we'd been different people, things would have worked. But we've both changed, and we want different things, and I can't pretend otherwise."
Femi was quiet for a long moment. His jaw worked. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"I really did love you," he said finally, his voice rough.
"I know. I loved you too. Just... not the way you needed. Not the way you deserved."
He nodded slowly, accepting it. Then he pulled me into a hug—tight, brief, final. A proper goodbye.
"I'll always love you, Issy," he murmured against my hair. "I hope you find what you're looking for. I truly do."
He kissed my cheek. Squeezed my hand once.
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing through the ballroom doors without looking back, leaving me standing alone on the dance floor.
I found him near the wine display, just as I'd expected.
He was standing with his back to the room, adjusting bottles that didn't need adjusting. His shoulders were tense, his movements mechanical, controlled.
"Matteo."
He turned slowly. His expression was carefully neutral, guarded.
"Bella." His eyes dropped to my hand. No ring. Something flickered across his face—confusion, hope, fear. "I see congratulations are in order."
"They're not."
"What?"
"I said yes because I didn't want to humiliate him. Not again. Not after the first time, in Switzerland." I stepped closer. "But I gave him back the ring. It's over. For good this time."
Matteo stared at me. "You gave it back?"
"I had to. Because I couldn't marry him when I'm in love with someone else."
Silence stretched between us.
The party hummed around us—music, laughter, the clink of glasses. But in this corner, by the wine display, the world had narrowed to just the two of us.
"Bella..." His voice was rough, uncertain, afraid to hope.
"I love you." The words came out clear and strong, no hesitation. "I should have said it in Tuscany. I should have said it a hundred times since then. But I was scared, and confused, and I didn't trust myself to know what I wanted."
"And now?" His eyes searched mine.
"Now I know." I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. "I want you, Matteo. I want lazy mornings at the vineyard and dinner with your mother and wine tastings in the cellar. I want to build something with you. Something real and lasting."
His fingers intertwined with mine. His eyes were bright, searching my face.
"You're sure? Completely sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."