An Ending

An Ending
Our new house sat behind a gated fence, nestled beneath old trees. Just beyond it, our lake glimmered quietly, broken only by laughter and the splash of stones skipping across the surface.
We had built a life here that somehow honored the past without being haunted by it.
In the background were my parents, Trish, and her family.
Cillian sat beside me on the picnic blanket, shirt sleeves rolled up, legs stretched out, and hair ruffled by the breeze. In his arms, our son, Xavian, dozed off against his chest, thumb still pressed against his lip, curls damp from earlier play. He was three now, all boundless energy and impossible questions, and the spitting image of his father.
I rested a hand on my stomach, now taut and full with the weight of new life.
On the lounge chair nearest the water, Eleanor lay back with a pair of oversized sunglasses, her hair in a braid that trailed past her shoulder. Seventeen now, but already carrying herself with the same unnerving calm as the man beside me.
“Okay,” she said, sitting up. “I’m thinking… outdoor party. String lights, probably some blood-orange mocktails just to mess with people. Something subtle. Sophisticated.”
Cillian chuckled under his breath. “You mean broody.”
“I mean refined,” she shot back.
I smiled at her. “Any reason you’re going all out for this one?”
Eleanor hesitated. “I think I’m close. I can feel it.”
I glanced at Cillian, then back at her, watching the way her eyes didn’t shy away from the sun like they used to, how her pulse barely quickened even after chasing her little brother through the woods earlier. She was nearing it. The bloom of what had always been sleeping just beneath her skin.
When she was nine and never once caught a fever, I thought she was just strong. When she stopped bleeding from small cuts, when her appetite changed, I started asking questions. It wasn’t the wolf.
Cillian had explained it to me one night. “She inherited my bloodline. Because she could.”
Then he’d explained to me that when two natural-born lycans conceived, the child was always a lycan. That blood ran dominant, unyielding. Wolves bred wolves. Always.
But I wasn’t born a lycan. I came into it by being assigned a wolf later in life. I’d never been marked or claimed by Xavier, which mattered more than I realized back then. My bond to him hadn’t shifted my bloodline the way it would’ve if he’d claimed me as a mate. I’d been turned. Not born. I was still, at my core, human.
And that meant when Cillian and I conceived, our children could only be one of two things—human or vampire. There was no room in our bloodlines for the wolf to pass on.
“I seriously hope I don’t peak at this age,” she muttered.
“Why not?” I asked, amused.
“Because I don’t want to be stuck looking like a teenager forever, Mom. Dad peaked at twenty-six. Half my friends are practically drooling over him. It’s gross, but it's a fact. I’m aiming for at least twenty-two or twenty-three.”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, I can’t blame them. Your father is disturbingly well-preserved.”
Cillian let out a low chuckle beside me, shaking his head.
Eleanor groaned. “Ugh. Please stop. This is why I don’t bring anyone over.”
Cillian and I exchanged a look and then just smiled.
The lake came alive with shrieks and splashes again. Trish’s twins were half-submerged, trying to outswim their older siblings. My dad had finally caved and joined them in the shallows, rolling up his pants and pretending not to notice when they doused him on purpose. My mom, meanwhile, sat beneath the willow tree with a plate of sliced fruit.
I shifted slightly on the lounge chair, stretching out with my legs propped up. Cillian’s hand found its way to my belly, settling there with instinctive protectiveness. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles over the curve, and a moment later, the baby nudged back, right beneath his palm.
“She’s active today,” he murmured.
“She knows you’re here.” I looked over at him and smiled.
A sudden squeal pulled our attention toward the front of the house—and there they were.
Georgia was the first to run across the grass, arms spread wide, sunglasses perched on her head, her laugh loud and unfiltered. Soren followed behind, dragging two overstuffed suitcases that probably didn’t even make it into the house yet. Ralph walked at a more leisurely pace, grinning as he took in the scene.
“Tell me this is the right lake house and not some strangers’ summer retreat,” Georgia called out as she approached.
I shot up as best as my belly allowed and practically waddled into her arms. “You’re late!”
“You’re enormous!” she said with a gasp, pulling back and eyeing my stomach. “In the most radiant, glowy, painfully pregnant way, of course.”
I laughed and then hugged Soren, then Ralph, who hugged me tightly like he’d missed me for a decade.
“I can’t believe you’re all here,” I said, breathless and buzzing. “This is perfect.”
Behind me, Cillian stood, ever the quiet sentinel, watching them all with that calm he wore when he was simply taking it all in. He nodded at Soren, who nodded back with the same dry smirk they always exchanged.
Ralph kissed him on the cheek. Georgia just clapped him on the back like a brother would.
Eleanor joined us with a disapproving groan. “Please tell me you didn’t bring American candy again.”
Ralph raised a brow. “Would I disappoint you?”
“You would and have,” she deadpanned, but she grinned as she said it and hugged him anyway.
Everyone found their place—some back in the water, others gathered around the grill or sprawled across picnic blankets. Someone turned on music, something slow and summery, and for a moment, the world felt like it had slowed to the perfect pace.
I turned to find Cillian behind me again. He held out his hand.
“Come here,” he said softly.
I stepped into him, and he wrapped both arms around me—one across my back, the other over the roundness of our child. His forehead met mine.
“I never thought I’d have this,” he said quietly. “Not in this lifetime.”
“You do,” I whispered back. “You have it. All of it.”
He kissed me then, unhurried and full, the kind that said everything words couldn't reach. I melted into it, into him. Into all the years we’d lost and everything we’d built since.
When he pulled back, he pressed another kiss to my temple and said, “I love you, Pet.”
I looked up at him, heart full to bursting.
“I love you too, Kurt.”
He winced just slightly at the fake name, then broke into a grin, unable to help himself.
And in that moment—with the sun above us, our friends and family all around us, and another life growing between us—I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Fin.

Hope you liked the story! Fun fact: I was listening to "Your Song" by Julie Anne San Jose while writing the last chapter. Go check it out! ^_^