Epiloque

Epiloque
Angela POV
The garden is quieter than it has been in years.
Not silent. Never silent. But different.
Leo’s laughter cuts through the air as he runs across the grass, his small sneakers thudding against stone paths worn smooth by time and blood and survival. He is chasing Markos, who is sitting on the ground with Louis crouched beside him, steadying him with one hand while Maya laughs softly nearby.
Louis looks older somehow. Not tired. Grounded. His arm stays within reach of Markos at all times, instinctive, protective. A father who learned fear early and never forgot it.
Eleni and Sofia are a few steps away, sitting on a blanket with Nomiki. The twins are babbling to each other in their own secret language, clumsy hands clutching soft toys while Nomiki gently redirects them every time they crawl too close to the edge of the stone terrace.
She looks exhausted. Beautiful. Strong. Elio and Andreas are inside with the nurse, only six months old and still too fragile for the afternoon breeze. Nomiki glances toward the doors every few seconds, like part of her never fully relaxes anymore.
I understand that feeling too well.
The newest members of our family are not out here.
They are upstairs. Sleeping. Wrapped in soft white blankets. Three weeks old and still so impossibly small that every breath feels like a miracle.
My hand presses gently against my chest as I think of them. One boy. One girl. Still unnamed in public. Still ours alone.
Leo wanted to see them earlier. Wanted to touch them. Wanted to hold them.
Nikolai had crouched in front of him, serious but gentle.
“They are too small, lion. You can look. You can love. But you cannot play with them yet.”
Leo had nodded solemnly, like he understood the weight of responsibility.
I watch Nikolai now.
He stands near the edge of the garden, Burak beside him.
That alone still feels surreal.
Burak Yaman. Once the storm at our door. Now standing with his hands relaxed at his sides, head slightly bowed as he listens to Nikolai speak. There is no weapon visible. No tension in his posture. Just a man who chose to stop running from truth.
Ares and Ajax are close by, both still carrying injuries that have not fully healed. Ajax leans against the stone railing, arms crossed, eyes constantly scanning the perimeter out of habit more than necessity. Ares stands with Anna, their fingers intertwined, her head resting against his shoulder.
Clio laughs suddenly from near the steps. Jessy pulls her into his chest without warning, spinning her once before setting her down. She pretends to scold him, but her smile gives her away. They look like survivors who decided to choose joy anyway.
I take a breath.
This is what it looks like when the war ends.
Not fireworks. Not celebration.
Just children laughing. Men standing guard out of habit. Women watching everything with eyes that will never fully forget.
Burak turns his head and meets my gaze across the garden.
There is something different in his eyes now. Not guilt. Not anger.
Peace.
He inclines his head slightly. Respect.
I nod back.
Nikolai notices the exchange and steps closer. His hand finds mine, and he squeezes it gently. Then he turns fully toward Burak.
“You’ve risked everything for us,” he says, voice steady but warm. “Not as an enemy, but as someone who wanted to protect my family. You’ve proven your loyalty, Burak.”
Burak shifts slightly, unsure.
Nikolai smiles faintly, the first real warmth I’ve seen in him all day. “I want you to stay. Here, with us. You are part of this family now. Fully. Not just as an ally. As one of us.”
Burak blinks, caught off guard, then nods slowly. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Nikolai replies. “Just stay alive, and stay with us.”
I feel tears prick my eyes. Not from fear, not from anger, but relief. From the weight finally lifting. From seeing a man who once stood against us, now chosen as family.
Leo’s laughter rings out again, louder this time. Markos babbles in reply. Louis laughs. Eleni and Sofia shriek with delight as Nomiki lifts them into the air.
I glance toward the upstairs windows where our newborn twins sleep. My hand instinctively rises to my belly even though the babies are already born. A quiet, protective gesture.
The war is over.
And this time, I believe it.
Burak is here. With us.
Our family has finally found peace.