My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147: Chapter 147 AS SIMPLE AS A DANCE

SERAPHINA’S POV

I should have said no. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

No, what I should have done was turn around and walk right out the door the moment I laid eyes on Kieran on the stage.

But whatever it was, whatever damn invisible thread that still seemed to exist between me and my ex-husband had pulled, and I hadn’t resisted as hard as I should have.

I’d stayed, I’d played silly little games with him. I’d let his voice guide me through the last challenge.

Worst of all—I’d enjoyed every fucking minute.

And now—the consequences of my actions: a gorgeous necklace (that I hated to admit rivalled the one Lucian had given me.) And a dance.

I took an instinctive step back. I shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

I should’ve been anywhere but in a bar with my ex-husband, contemplating fucking dancing with him.

I needed to leave, right now. Go home and prepare for the final challenge.

My eyes darted behind Byron, where Kieran stood, a little too at ease, a little too nonchalant, like he was forcing himself not to show any readable emotion or reaction.

And then Byron spoke.

“My Lillian’s been gone nineteen years.” His voice was heavy with the weight of grief yet light with the softness of reverence. “Like I mentioned before, today would have been our thirtieth anniversary.”

My chest tightened. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Byron shook his head. “No, don’t be. Lillian wasn’t one for tears or sorrows.” The wistfulness of his smile was like a fist around my heart. “When I close my eyes, I can still see her dancing through this bar, the light glancing off her necklace.”

His eyes shone—not with tears, but with the glow of a man who had loved and been loved completely. I couldn’t look away. “Won’t you grant me this one gift, Sera?”

Slowly, without fully realizing what I was doing, I took the necklace out of the box. It lay cold in my palm, the pendant’s blue stone winking in the stage light.

And though it was featherlight, it felt heavy.

Heavy with memories. Heavy with meaning.

A lump formed in my throat. Swallowing hard did nothing to dislodge it.

“Alright,” I whispered.

The crowd erupted into applause, but I barely heard them—quite frankly, I’d forgotten they existed.

My gaze slid back to Kieran, who’d suddenly tensed. Surprise flickered in his eyes, as if he’d expected me to reject Byron and walk out.

Byron beamed and gave a small bow, stepping out of the way.

And suddenly, Kieran and I were the only ones on stage.

I hesitated, my heart kicking into a gallop. Every rational instinct pulled me towards the bar’s exit.

But I’d already made a commitment; I couldn’t possibly go back on my word.

And then Kieran held his hand out. “Allow me,” he murmured.

My pulse lurched. It was stupid, I knew. We hadn’t even touched; the outstretched arm was barely a gesture, if you could even call it that.

For a moment, I didn’t realize what he was asking. But then I saw his gaze dart to the necklace, and my heart skipped a gallop.

My hand trembled slightly as I held the necklace out. Kieran took it from me with surprising care, the metal glinting between his fingers.

I froze as he stepped behind me, his nearness a quiet storm.

The brush of his knuckles against my skin as he swept my hair aside sent a shiver racing down my spine. The clasp clicked softly into place, and his touch lingered a second too long before he dropped his hands.

Music floated through the speakers—soft, lilting, the unmistakable sound of an old love ballad.

When I turned, Kieran’s hand was held out again, and slowly, hesitantly, I took it.

For a moment, neither of us moved. It always felt like this with Kieran—like time was slowing down. Like every move we made had to be felt. Savored.

I saw him glance down at his large hand dwarfing mine, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was: that this was probably the first time we’d ever held hands after a decade of marriage.

And then we moved.

Kieran’s hand folded around mine, the other settling on the small of my waist. The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of my romper, searing, unnerving. Yet...gentle. His grip wasn’t iron or rigid. It was steady. Tender.

And, against my will, something inside me softened as I surrendered to the moment.

Kieran and I had never had a formal wedding ceremony. Every gala we’d attended as a married couple had been a stiff, awkward event.

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