The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193

Cynthia’s POV

When Nikolai called my name, my heart almost stopped.

For a split second, I honestly thought I’d misheard him. That maybe the applause, the music, the murmur of voices had twisted the sound into something familiar.

What the hell is he doing?

My palms went cold. My stomach tightened painfully as hundreds of eyes turned in my direction. I could feel the weight of their curiosity, their expectations, their judgment, pressing down on me all at once.

I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to sink into the floor, crawl under the table, do anything but stand up and walk toward that stage. This wasn’t part of the plan. I hadn’t even planned to be here tonight. I definitely hadn’t planned to be honored.

For a brief, cowardly moment, I considered staying seated. Pretending I didn’t hear him. Pretending I was just another guest.

But I knew that would embarrass him.

And despite everything—despite the gossip, the stares, the whispers I’d already overheard—I didn’t want to hurt Nikolai.

So I forced a smile onto my face, one that felt too tight, too practiced, and stood up.

The applause grew louder as I made my way toward the stage. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking through thick water. I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look around, refusing to search for familiar faces.

Nikolai reached out his hand to help me up the last step, his touch warm, steady. The moment our eyes met, I saw it clearly.

He was emotional.

His eyes were glossy, rimmed with red, Nikolai Cross looked vulnerable.. Just a man still carrying grief.

That realization softened something in me.

“Thank you for coming up,” he said quietly, into the microphone, his voice thick. “I know this might be… unexpected.”

Unexpected was an understatement.

He turned to face the audience again, still holding my hand, and my heart sank slightly at the intimacy of the gesture. I didn’t pull away, though. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to.

“I just want to take a moment,” Nikolai continued, “to thank someone who stood by me during one of the most difficult periods of my life.”

The room fell into a respectful hush.

“When my father fell ill,” he said, pausing briefly, “I was… lost.”

My chest tightened.

“Cynthia and I went to Paris together after I heard about his condition,” he went on, his voice faltering just a little. “I still hoped he would make it. But… he didn’t.”

A collective murmur of sympathy rippled through the hall.

“And during that time,” Nikolai said, turning slightly toward me, “Cynthia was there.”

I swallowed hard. I was not really there for him, even though I would have been if my restaurant wasn’t in a mess at that time. But I guess Nikolai really took that little act to heart.

“She distracted me when the pain became unbearable. Even when her own restaurant was facing challenges, even when she had problems of her own, she still made space for my grief.”

This was sounding… too intimate.

From the outside, I knew exactly how this must look. Like we were something more than we were. Like there had been something romantic between us.

And I hated that thought.

I took a slow breath and nodded.

The microphone felt heavier than it should have when he handed it to me. My fingers trembled slightly as I wrapped them around it. The room seemed impossibly large, impossibly quiet.

I cleared my throat.

“Uhm…” I started, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. “This is… really an honor.”

I forced myself to look out at the audience, to meet a sea of unfamiliar faces, all watching me with interest.

“Nikolai,” I continued, turning slightly toward him, “everything I did for you, I did because you are an amazing person.”

His lips pressed together, his eyes shining.

“You have been a source of support for me as well,” I said honestly. “And I don’t take that for granted.”

I paused, choosing my words carefully, making sure they were kind but not misleading.

“I wish you, and everyone here, a new year filled with joy, growth, and wins,” I finished, lifting a small smile. “Cheers.”

The applause was immediate.

Relief washed over me like a wave. I handed the microphone back to Nikolai, my heart still pounding, my nerves still buzzing under my skin.

Before I could step away, before I could create some distance, Nikolai leaned forward and pulled me into a hug.

It was brief.

Gentle.

But unmistakably public.