.
📖 Chapter 10 — The Life We Choose
---
Spring came slowly to the city.
The days lengthened by imperceptible degrees. Mira found herself lingering on the building's steps in the afternoons, feeling the sun against her shoulders, letting its quiet warmth seep into her bones.
Tiny shoots of green peeked through the cracks in the sidewalk. A local artist painted a cheerful mural on the tailor shop's outer wall—a swirl of bright blossoms that seemed to dance every time the breeze rolled by.
It was the first time since buying the place that Mira didn't feel like she was simply trying to keep it all from falling apart.
Now, it felt like something living. Something growing.
---
🌸
One Friday morning, Mira stood by her kitchen window, fingers curled around a mug of jasmine tea, when her phone buzzed.
It was Elena.
Coffee this week? I have something to tell you.
Mira smiled, thumb flying over the screen.
Yes. Name the place.
---
They met at a sunlit café with ivy crawling up its red brick walls. Mira wore a soft linen dress with faint paint smudges near the hem—proof of a morning spent overseeing touch-ups in the stairwell.
Elena looked more polished in a pale lavender blouse and delicate gold earrings. But her smile was nervous, fingers drumming against her cup.
---
"So," Mira said gently. "What's this mystery news?"
Elena bit her lip, then blurted, "I've decided to take a position overseas. A yearlong internship in Florence. It's small, but it's a start—something that's only mine, you know?"
---
Mira's heart did a small, unexpected somersault.
Not of jealousy or hurt—more a quiet pang of realization that their tangled family story was finally, gently, diverging into two separate lives.
"That's amazing, Elena," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "I'm so proud of you."
Elena's eyes shone. "I was terrified to tell you. I didn't want you to think I was… running from us."
"You're not," Mira assured her. "You're running toward you. That's something we both needed, didn't we?"
---
They laughed then—soft, relieved, a little teary. Two girls who once felt like rivals for a life neither of them had truly chosen, now simply sisters by strange fate and cautious affection.
When they parted, Elena hugged her tight.
"Be happy, Mira. You really deserve it."
---
🌸
That night, Mira told Adrian about Elena's plans while they lay tangled on her sofa.
He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "You okay with it?"
"Yeah," she whispered. "I think it's perfect. For both of us."
Then she looked around her little apartment—worn wood floors, crooked bookshelf crammed with ledgers and cookbooks—and thought how strange it was that everything she loved most had bloomed right here.
---
🌸
A week later, the local paper ran a feature titled "Old Bones, New Dreams: Young Owner Revives Historic Quarter Building."
There was a photo of Mira standing by the mural, a bright scarf knotted at her neck, tenants smiling in the background. The article talked about affordable rents, fresh community events, small businesses thriving under her careful stewardship.
It mentioned the Song family only once, in passing.
For the first time, her story wasn't about who she was born as—but who she chose to be.
---
Calls flooded in after that. Curious buyers wanting to invest, other property owners hoping to replicate her model. A city council member even left a message about discussing future neighborhood projects.
Mira listened to each offer with careful attention. But her heart stayed stubbornly rooted in her modest building.
She didn't need to build an empire. She just needed to keep this tiny world thriving—and maybe add one more, someday, when she was ready.
---
🌸
One soft afternoon, Adrian surprised her by picking her up after a tenant meeting.
He had his motorcycle today—she shot him a playful glare but climbed on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist.
They sped through the streets, wind in her hair, until they reached a quiet overlook that gazed out across the rooftops of the city.
The sun was dipping low, setting everything ablaze in hues of rose and gold.
---
They sat on a low stone wall, shoulders brushing, sharing a paper cup of lemonade.
Adrian cleared his throat. "So. I've been thinking…"
She raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous words."
He nudged her knee with his.
"About us. About that place we talked about during our trip—one with a sunroom, maybe a little yard. Room to grow, however we want to. Not a palace. Just ours."
---
Her breath caught.
He turned then, taking both her hands in his.
"Mira, I love you. In every possible, frustrating, joyful way. I don't care if we stay here forever or buy a crooked house two streets over. I just want a future that has your laughter in it. And maybe, someday… the pitter-patter of smaller feet too."
---
Mira's eyes blurred instantly.
"You're sure?" she whispered. "This messy, unglamorous life?"
Adrian let out a soft huff of a laugh, eyes bright.
"It's the only one I've ever wanted."
---
She lunged at him, nearly knocking them both off the wall, laughing through tears.
When he kissed her—slow and deep, hands cradling her face—she felt every old fear, every shadow of her past, finally ease.
---
🌸
They didn't rush into anything.
Over the next few months, they started looking at small houses. Mira still managed her building, still negotiated leases and chased stray cats off the fire escape. Adrian still balanced his firm's cases with long hours spent in her kitchen, drafting documents while she sorted rent ledgers.
But every evening ended the same: in each other's arms, planning dinners and daydreaming about paint swatches.
---
🌸
On the first warm day of summer, Mira sat on the front steps of her building, a basket of fresh pastries beside her, watching her tenants chat by the mural.
Adrian came out with two mugs of tea, handed her one, then dropped a soft kiss to the top of her head.
"Happy?" he asked.
She leaned against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him—sun and soap and the faintest hint of sawdust from a project he'd started in her storage room.
"So happy," she whispered. "It almost scares me."
---
He tilted her chin up, eyes serious.
"Then let's keep choosing this. Every day. Even when it's boring. Even when it's hard. Deal?"
Her smile was slow and sure.
"Deal."
---
🌸
Later that night, as the building settled around them—voices drifting up from windows, laughter echoing down the hall—Mira stood by her window and looked out at her tiny, messy kingdom.
It wasn't the life anyone once plotted for her.
It was better.
It was hers.