(This is the final chapter of Married To The Billionaire Who Hated Me)
The decision didn't come with fireworks.
No dramatic confrontation.
No rushed confessions.
No last-minute chaos.
It came quietly.
The way real endings usually do.
I woke up early that morning, packed my bag slowly, and stood by the window one last time—not to escape, but to understand what I was leaving behind.
Not a house.
Not a name.
Not even a marriage.
But a version of myself that had survived long enough to finally choose.
Riyan was in the living room when I stepped out, dressed simply, no phone in his hand, no urgency in his posture.
"You're leaving today," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I replied.
He nodded once.
Not angry.
Not desperate.
Not trying to stop me.
"Where?" he asked gently.
"Somewhere quiet," I said. "Somewhere that belongs to me before it belongs to anyone else."
He absorbed that in silence.
"I won't ask you to stay," he said. "And I won't pretend this doesn't hurt."
I met his eyes.
"That's the first honest goodbye you've ever given me."
A faint, sad smile touched his lips.
"I wish I had learned earlier."
"So do I," I replied. "But wishing doesn't change timing. Choice does."
He stepped closer—but stopped at a respectful distance.
"I didn't love you right," he said. "But I learned from you."
"And I didn't break because of you," I said softly. "I healed in spite of everything."
That mattered.
We stood there, two people no longer bound by hatred, guilt, or obligation.
Just truth.
Arjun came later, limping slightly, pretending he wasn't.
"So this is it," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "The dramatic farewell."
I smiled. "You always liked drama."
He hugged me carefully.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For remembering when no one else could."
I held him for a moment longer.
"Live honestly," I told him. "That's all I ever wanted."
When I finally walked out, no one followed me.
No one chased.
No one begged.
And that was how I knew it was right.
---
Weeks passed.
The world moved on.
The case concluded.
The truth settled.
The empire changed hands.
Riyan stepped back, rebuilt slowly, without fear driving every decision.
Arjun returned to life—not as a shadow, not as a secret, but as himself.
And me?
I lived.
I wrote.
I walked.
I slept without nightmares.
I remembered without pain.
Sometimes, Riyan and I spoke.
Sometimes, we didn't.
There was no promise to reunite.
No vow to forget.
Just mutual respect for what we survived together—and what we chose separately.
On the last page of my notebook, I wrote:
I was never weak for surviving.
I was strong for choosing myself when I finally could.
I closed the notebook.
This story didn't end with revenge.
It didn't end with marriage.
It didn't end with forgiveness.
It ended with freedom.
And that was the only ending that ever made sense.
— END OF THE STORY —