CHAPTER 241: CHAPTER 241 MARRY ME AGAIN

Serena’s POV

I stood in the spotlight, surrounded by loved ones and elegant strangers, my heart thundering against my ribs as the music suddenly shifted. Ryan appeared, wheeling in an elaborate birthday cake, his eyes never leaving mine as if I were the only person in this crowded ballroom.

"Serena, time to make a wish," he said, voice impossibly tender.

I nodded, joining my hands and closing my eyes. When I squeezed my eyes shut, I thought about wishing for this newfound family connection to last forever, for my memories to continue returning, for...

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. When I opened my eyes, confused, a single spotlight illuminated Ryan and me, isolating us in a pool of light while the crowd faded into shadowy silhouettes.

"Maya?" I gasped, spotting my best friend emerging from the darkness, her face glowing with barely contained excitement. In her hands gleamed a small velvet box, radiating significance. "How did you—when did you get here?"

She simply smiled, eyes suspiciously moist, and handed the box to Ryan with ceremonial precision. My breath caught as Ryan extracted a stunning blue sapphire ring that caught the light in hypnotic ways. Somehow, he was also holding a bouquet of lilies—my favorites—their fragrance enveloping us in this magical moment.

Behind us, the massive screen flickered to life, Ryan’s voice floating through the speakers with surprising vulnerability.

"I met you three years ago through what I thought was pure chance," his recorded voice declared, rich with emotion I’d never heard from him before. The screen filled with images—photos of us that I didn’t even remember being taken. Candid moments: me laughing at something off-camera, Ryan’s face soft with an expression I was only now learning to recognize as love, the two of us dancing at some formal event, lost in our own world.

"How fortunate I was," the recording continued as more images flashed by, "that you once agreed to be my wife."

My vision blurred as I watched our story unfold in photographs—moments I’d forgotten during my amnesia and treasured memories that had slowly returned. There was one of us at what looked like a charity gala, Ryan’s hand protective on my lower back as I spoke animatedly to someone out of frame. Another showed us in casual clothes, sitting on a blanket in what looked like Hyde Park, sharing what appeared to be takeout containers and laughing.

"My stubbornness and pride cost me you," the voice continued, and I glanced at the real Ryan, standing beside me in the spotlight, his jaw tight with emotion as he watched me take in our history. "Through endless days without you, I finally understood that you’re not just someone I love—you’re the only one I’ll ever love. The only one I want to love."

The lump in my throat grew painful as more photos appeared: us at the hospital after my accident, Ryan’s face haggard with worry as he held my hand while I slept. Photos of him visiting during my recovery, bringing flowers, books, anything that might help me remember. Pictures I realized someone must have taken without our knowledge, documenting his devotion during the hardest period of both our lives.

"Serena, we’ve weathered countless storms together," his voice continued, impossibly gentle. "And now, I long to stand beside you forever."

Ryan dropped to one knee as the screen went dark and a soft spotlight enveloped us like a blessing. The world contracted until nothing existed outside our bubble of light. The Quinn family, Maya, and hundreds of London’s elite watched with bated breath, but they might as well have been miles away.

"Serena," Ryan said, his live voice matching the earnest tone of the recording, "I’ve spent so much time imagining the perfect proposal, the perfect wedding. Every scenario seemed inadequate."

He extended both the ring and lilies toward me, his hands remarkably steady while mine trembled.

"But tonight, surrounded by your family and friends during this celebration of your life, I realized—there will never be a more perfect moment than this one." His eyes, usually so controlled, shimmered with naked emotion. "Serena Quinn, will you marry me?"

Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. I tried to speak but couldn’t find my voice immediately. The room’s silence stretched, electric with anticipation. I extended my right hand, watched it tremble in the spotlight, and finally managed to whisper:

"Yes." Then, stronger, my voice carrying across the ballroom: "Yes, Ryan. Always yes."

The room erupted in applause as Ryan slid the ring onto my finger, its weight both unfamiliar and perfectly right. He rose in one fluid motion and pulled me into his arms, his heartbeat strong and steady against mine, his warmth enveloping me completely. Around us, the applause continued, but it felt distant, unimportant compared to the way he was holding me like I was something precious and irreplaceable.

"I love you," he whispered against my ear, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes."

"I love you too," I whispered back, surprised by how easily the words came, how right they felt. "I think I never stopped, even when I couldn’t remember why."

Through my happy tears, I glimpsed Maya openly weeping nearby, clapping with abandon. Beside her stood Ethan, his expression complex as he gently wiped away her tears. Something passed between them in that moment—a charged look that made me wonder if another romance might be brewing.

"You planned all this in secret," I murmured against Ryan’s ear, savoring his warmth. "What happened to your ice-cold CEO reputation?"

His low laugh vibrated through me as his arms tightened.

"Mrs. Blackwood," he whispered, the title sending shivers down my spine, "I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you."

As we stood embracing in the spotlight, surrounded by applause and well-wishes, I realized that my birthday wish had already come true. Against all odds—amnesia, separation, misunderstanding—we’d found our way back to each other. And this time, I knew with absolute certainty, we’d get it right.