Contract Marriage: The President's Stand-in Lover - Chapter 30:

Before Goodbye

Early summer in Paris arrived with skies so clear they felt almost transparent.

On the second-floor balcony of the gallery, sunlight touched

Lin Vianne’s fingertips with a quiet warmth.

The exhibition was coming to an end. This would be her final week in Paris.

She had decided to return home.

Not to escape, not out of nostalgia.

But to go back to where everything began to face what she once

thought she could never confront again.

She told herself this time it wasn’t for anyone else.

This journey home was for herself.

For a final goodbye.

For peace.

On the morning of her flight, a thin rain fell over Paris.

The airport buzzed with noise and movement. Behind her sunglasses,

her expression remained calm as she pushed her luggage through the crowd.

Everything was in order, until a voice called out to her through the din.

Vianne.

She froze.

That voice low, steady, carrying a tremor she instantly recognized.

Turning, she saw him.

Gu Chen stood there, without the usual armor of a tailored suit, only a simple gray shirt.

His eyes were softer than she remembered, though still deep as ever.

He walked toward her, trying to keep his tone even.

I heard your exhibition ended.

Her lips curved faintly. You keep yourself well informed.

He hesitated, the movement of his gaze betraying emotion.

I just didn’t want you to leave alone.

She looked at him, her voice as light as wind.

Gu Chen, I’m not leaving you. I’m just… going home for myself this time.

He nodded slowly, and something fragile flickered in his eyes.

I know. You once said you wanted to live for yourself.

He held out a small envelope.

This is for you. The painting I bought

Rebirth.

She blinked, startled, and took it from his hand. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Gu Chen, she said softly, do you remember our contract?

I remember.

Three years have passed, she murmured, smiling faintly. And now, we’re both free.

Gu Chen lifted his gaze to her.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

His hand didn’t shake this time. And for once, he didn’t hold on.

I know, he said quietly. That’s why I won’t stop you today.

I only wanted to tell you, before goodbye comes, I still love you.

Her eyes burned. She tried to smile, but the tears still slipped free.

I know, she whispered. But love doesn’t always need a perfect ending.

She stepped back, turned, and walked toward the boarding gate.

Her figure blended into the moving crowd until it vanished from sight.

Gu Chen stood where she left him, watching until there was nothing left to see.

Then, lowering his head, he whispered to himself with a faint, aching smile,

Goodbye, Lin Vianne.

When the plane lifted off, clouds rolled beneath the wings like soft waves.

Vianne leaned back against her seat, closing her eyes.

Images flickered through her mind his smile in the gallery, the rain-soaked embrace,

the night he finally said he was afraid.

She exhaled slowly.

Some loves mature only through loss.

And some people, once gone, stay forever in the quietest corner of the heart.

Months later, the Paris gallery reopened.

On the central wall hung a new painting.

Before Goodbye

In the painting, two figures stood on a bridge at dawn

facing opposite directions, bathed in two rays of light.

The signature at the bottom read: L. Wei-An.

And beneath it, on a small white card, were the words:

Thank you for teaching me how to love, and how to let go.

The love that began as a contract ended, before goodbye,

as the gentlest freedom either of them had ever known.