The Billionaire Who Forgot How to Love

Chapter 14: The Love That Refused to Die

The first snowfall came in silence.

It blanketed the city like an apology — soft, white, and heavy. The rooftops glowed under the dusk light, and the streetlamps flickered like memories half-forgotten but still warm.

Elias stood by the window, hands in his pockets, watching the flakes fall. Winter always made him feel like time had slowed down, or maybe it just reminded him of the times he tried to skip past — the birthdays missed, the holidays spent alone in boardrooms, the embraces that came too late.

Downstairs, Selene was wrapping presents in brown paper. She refused glitter or flashy boxes. "I want it to feel real," she always said. Liv was baking — cinnamon, again. The smell filled the house like tradition returned.

And for the first time, this house didn't feel like a borrowed future.

It felt like home.

An Old Letter Rewritten

Later that night, Elias found himself at his desk again, staring at the letter he'd once written to himself before death. He picked up a pen and turned the page over.

"To the man I never got to become,

You were so afraid of failure, you made it your home. You wore perfection like armor and buried love under tasks, deadlines, numbers, names.

But I forgive you. Because even when you forgot love, you didn't forget to try."

He folded it, not with shame this time — but with peace.

Selene walked in as he slipped the paper back into the drawer.

"You writing again?"

"Rewriting," he said. "It's not too late to change the ending."

The Gift Selene Never Expected

A week before Christmas, Elias took Selene aside, handed her a plain box tied with a black ribbon. Inside was a journal. Handwritten.

Every page told a piece of their story — the words he couldn't say when she was younger. The fears. The regrets. The love he didn't know how to give.

She didn't speak. She only hugged him. A long, wordless hug that said: I see you now.

Liv's Decision

At the dinner table that night, Liv made an announcement.

"I've been offered a chance to curate a museum exhibition in Paris. Six months."

Elias blinked. "Will you go?"

She smiled. "I think I need to. For me. For the version of me that always waited."

He nodded. "Then go. And know this is still your home."

For the first time, Liv wasn't afraid to choose herself.

Letters on the Mantel

On Christmas morning, Selene found three letters on the mantel — one for her, one for Liv, and one for Elias himself.

Each envelope was sealed in red wax and bore the date of their second chance.

Selene's read: "To the daughter who made me believe in beginnings, not just ends."

Liv's said: "To the friend who became family, who stayed when I was least worth staying for."

And his own: "To the man who finally kept a promise to his soul."

He burned his letter in the fireplace. Not out of anger — but because he didn't need reminders anymore. He was living it.

The Visitor in the Snow

That evening, a knock came at the door. Elias opened it to a woman in a long gray coat, her silver hair dusted in snow.

"I thought you forgot," she said.

It was her.

The old woman who'd granted him the second life.

"I didn't forget," Elias said. "But I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

She smiled. "Live. Fully. Without asking for permission this time."

He stepped aside. She didn't enter. Just placed a small box in his hand.

Inside: a watch. Stopped at the moment his first life ended.

"Time didn't break you," she said. "You just needed to break through it."

And with that, she vanished into the snow.

Echoes from the Past

That night, Elias sat by the fire long after the others had gone to bed. The flames crackled, soft and steady, like the heartbeat of the house. In his hands was an old photo — one from his first life. His mother's face smiled back at him. Selene, as a child, stood beside her, holding his hand.

He hadn't remembered this moment until now.

It was the last Christmas before everything fell apart.

He whispered into the quiet, "I'm sorry. For not choosing you while you were still here."

In that moment, grief didn't feel like guilt — it felt like a blessing. A memory still breathing.

A Midnight Talk

Selene couldn't sleep. She found Elias in the kitchen, barefoot, sipping coffee like it was medicine for his ghosts.

"Do you think we ever really stop being who we were?" she asked, sliding into the chair across from him.

"No," he said. "But we learn how to stop punishing ourselves for it."

She studied him. "Do you think you'll ever love again? Like... really love?"

He didn't answer quickly. "I loved wrong. But I loved real. And sometimes, that's harder to recover from than losing someone."

Her eyes didn't leave his. "So what now?"

"Now," he whispered, "I try to love better. Quietly. Without needing to be loved back."

Airport Goodbye

The morning Liv left for Paris, snow had started falling again. Elias stood beside her as she waited for her flight to be called.

"You know," she said, holding her suitcase handle tight, "you gave me back a version of myself I thought I buried."

"And you gave me back the man who forgot how to feel," he said.

She hugged him. "Open the envelope when I land."

He waited until dusk, then read the note.

"You taught me that pain doesn't mean we stop loving — it just means we learn to love deeper."

Inside the envelope was her old locket. It held a tiny photo of the three of them — Liv, Selene, Elias.

The Second Letter

That night, Elias found another envelope. No name. Just a symbol: the same one that had appeared on the watch the old woman gave him.

Inside was a card: "Your second chance was never about rewriting the past. It was about learning how to live without losing your soul."

Beneath the note was a question scribbled in fading ink:

"Now that you remember how to love... will you risk it again?"

He folded the letter. Looked up at the empty hallway.

He didn't have an answer yet.

But this time, he was willing to find one.