Chapter 63 EPILOGUE

Chapter 63 EPILOGUE
  SIX YEARS LATER

Alexander's pov

life was more quiet and peaceful in the best way possible. The ocean stretched endlessly in front of us, a beautiful sight to behold. The waves rolled in with patience, cresting and collapsing against the shore in a rhythmic way. I’d learned to admire that kind of consistency—the kind that didn’t demand, didn’t take more than it gave. It just existed.
I sat on the warm sand beside Ethan, our shoulders brushing, close enough that I could feel the heat of him even with the sea breeze cutting through the afternoon air. The sun hung low but bright, painting everything in gold. The smell of salt and sunscreen and something sweet—probably the popsicles Jesse and Jane had abandoned halfway through—mixed together until it felt like summer had taken on a physical form.
Our children were a few feet away, deeply engaged in what appeared to be a very serious argument over a plastic shovel.
Jesse had sand smeared across his knees and one cheek, his curls damp with sweat, his expression fierce in a way only four-year-olds could manage. Jane, on the other hand, had decided the bucket worked better as a crown and was wearing it proudly, chin lifted like she’d already won whatever battle they were fighting.
“It’s mine,” Jesse insisted.
“It’s for everyone,” Jane shot back, gripping the shovel tighter.
Ethan huffed out a laugh beside me. “Should we intervene?”
I shook my head. “Let them figure it out. Builds character.”
He gave me a look. “You said that last time, and they tried to bury Aiden.”
“That was an accident,” I said, watching as Aiden, a few feet away, pretended very hard not to be listening.
Aiden sat sprawled on a beach towel, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, phone in hand like he wasn’t absolutely keeping an eye on the kids. He’d gotten better at pretending he wasn’t soft over the years. Noah sat beside him, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, scanning the beach with the same instinct he’d never quite been able to turn off.
Some habits never go away completely.
My father stood closer to the water, shoes abandoned in the sand, trousers rolled up as the waves soaked his feet. He looked older—gray threading through his hair now, lines around his eyes—but lighter, too. Like a man who had finally put down a weight he’d carried for too long. He was also a proud grandfather. 

Six years ago, I wouldn’t have believed this life was possible. I wouldn’t have believed peace could exist without the constant hum of anxiety underneath it, watching my back every single minute so I don't run into my death. I’d spent so long bracing for the impact that even happiness at some point felt like a trap.
But somewhere along the way, that changed.
Two years after Ethan and I got married, we adopted Jesse and Jane when they were one. Two tiny beautiful humans with big eyes and uncertain smiles, bundled together like they were afraid the world might take one if they let go. I still remembered the first time I held Jesse—how small he’d felt in my arms, how his fingers had curled around my shirt like he was anchoring himself to me. I was so fucking scared but happy.
Jane had been quieter then. Watchful. She’d stared at Ethan like she was trying to figure out whether he was real or not.
That first night in our house, neither of us slept. They cried nonstop and when they finally stopped, Ethan hovered like a guard on duty, checking the baby monitor every few minutes, adjusting blankets that didn’t need adjusting. I lay awake listening for every breath, every shift of weight, terrified that loving them this much would somehow alert the universe and make it change its mind. Cause you never know what the universe had installed.
But it didn’t. Instead, the universe stayed kind.it didn’t erase the past. It didn’t pretend things hadn’t hurt. It just… stopped punishing us for surviving.
Ethan shifted beside me now, stretching his legs out in the sand, the movement familiar enough that I barely registered it consciously. Five years of marriage had etched his presence into me in ways I couldn’t untangle even if I tried. 
I stood, brushing the sand from my hands, then turned back toward Ethan. He looked up at me, brow lifting slightly in question.
I didn’t answer it with words.
Instead, I climbed onto his lap, settling there like it was the most natural thing in the world. Well it was. He laughed softly, instinctively sliding his hands to my waist, steadying me like he always did.
“Alex,” he murmured, amused. “We have kids here.”
I glanced over my shoulder, checking on the kids. Jesse had abandoned the shovel in favor of chasing a seagull. Jane was digging with her hands now, crown askew.
They weren’t watching. All clear.
I leaned in, kissing Ethan slowly. I rested my forehead against his afterward, breathing him in, letting myself exist in this moment without bracing for the end of it.
“Marrying you is the best decision of my life,” I whispered.
His smile—still devastating after all this time—said everything he didn’t need to say out loud.
The waves kept rolling in.
Our children kept laughing.
And for the first time in my life, I knew without a doubt, that this was home.