Chapter 99: Epilogue

Eros

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. And Athena was improving—steadily, beautifully. Watching her heal brought me a kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in years. There was a light in her eyes again, one that reminded me of the woman I fell in love with.

There was a quiet triumph in seeing her take in the world again, step by step, like watching the first light of dawn after a long, brutal night.

The twins had done a remarkable job catching her up on nearly everything she had missed over the past eight years. They told her stories, shared memories, showed her photos—fragments of a life that had moved on without her. They were patient, gentle—so much like her.

But Athena was always perceptive. It didn’t take long for her to notice that the kids were always home when they should have been at school. I tried to brush it off at first, but her gaze—steady and knowing—left me with no choice but to tell her the truth.

I confessed that I had chosen to homeschool them, that I couldn't bring myself to be apart from them—not after everything we’d been through.

I braced myself for her laughter, maybe even disapproval. It had sounded absurd even to me at first—that fear of losing more than I already had. She didn't laugh.

But instead, she cried. And then she apologized.

That single moment left me speechless. Stunned. She had no reason to say sorry, yet there she was—tears in her eyes, blaming herself for choices that were never hers to begin with.

We both knew—deep down—that it wasn’t her fault. None of it was. Not the coma that stole eight years of her life, not the silence that fell over our home, not even the aching loneliness that gripped me after my grandparents passed away.

Losing them was like losing the last thread connecting me to something steady. I had felt completely alone in the world.

But I had the twins. And I needed them just as much as they needed me. Maybe that’s why I kept them close, why I didn’t send them to school. In some strange, fragile way, we had become each other’s lifeline.

I wasn’t just protecting them—I was holding on to something. To my family. To a reason to keep going.

And now, with Athena awake again—healing, and beginning to piece everything together, I could breathe a little easier. Part of me was terrified. But another part… that part dared to hope again.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't holding on just for them. I was holding on for all of us.

It was her idea—to try walking.

She’d insisted, softly but firmly, and I hadn’t argued. I knew better than to question her fire, not after everything she’d fought through. Two nurses flanked her as she stood at the edge of the rehabilitation room, unsteady but determined.

But her eyes—her eyes never left mine. I stood just ahead, hands open, patient and still. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. Not now, not ever again.

“I’ll catch you,” I said gently, voice steady even though my heart thudded in my chest. “Always.”

She took one step. Then another.

Her legs trembled beneath her, breath coming fast and shallow. My every instinct screamed to run to her, to lift her into my arms and tell her she didn’t need to prove anything. But I stayed where I was, silent, praying.

And she didn’t fall.

By the time she reached me, tears streamed down her face—not from pain, but from sheer exhaustion and disbelief. Triumph radiated from her. She hadn’t used the crutches. She hadn’t leaned on anyone. She had relied solely on herself. On her own strength. And she’d won.

I caught her in my arms—not too tightly, careful not to overwhelm her, holding her like something sacred. Because she was.

“I’m proud of you,” I whispered into her hair, feeling her heartbeat against mine. “You fought your way back.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, barely above a breath. “I was fighting for us. Me, you… and the kids.”

My heart clenched. God, how could someone so broken still be this whole?

That night, wrapped in a blanket by the fireplace, Athena sat beside me, staring into the flames. The quiet crackle of the fire was the only sound between us.

Christmas was only a few weeks away, but I already had everything I wanted. Athena was here—alive, healing, and mine. I'd gotten my Christmas wish early—and nothing in this world could match it.

She turned to face me then, her expression soft and exposed, like she’d peeled back every layer to show me her truest self.

“Why did you stay, Eros?" she asked, voice small and raw. "Eight years... People forget their spouses in half that time. You weren’t even allowed to love me. I fought you in every way I could. You had every reason to walk away.”

Her words struck deep—not because I hadn’t asked myself the same question, but because the answer had always been the same. Clear. Constant.

My answer was simple. It had always been simple—probably since the very first time I saw her sitting on that chair by the window in the corridor of Emerald Crest Academy. I’d been hers from that moment. I just hadn’t known it. Now I did.

I looked at her—really looked at her—and even after everything we’d been through, everything life had thrown at us, she was still the only one I saw.

The only one I ever wanted to see.

Her eyes, her scars, her quiet strength—every part of her felt like home. Not the kind made of bricks and walls, but the kind made of love and memories and second chances.

And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty: I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone else for the rest of my life.

Because even after all this time…

She was still it for me.

Always had been. Always would be.

I took her hand in mine, grounding myself in her touch. I turned toward her, letting her see everything I felt in my eyes—dark, steady, unwavering.

“I loved you even when I wasn’t allowed to,” I continued, eyes steady on hers. “I loved you when I hadn’t even gotten to know you. I loved you when you were still Athena Sanderson. I loved you when you became another man’s wife.”

“And hell, I still loved you even when the future terrified me—because I knew you were it for me. You always were.”

Her eyes filled again, tears glistening like tiny stars caught in candlelight. I drew in a breath, emotion tight in my throat.

“I loved you when you vanished behind glass and wires. When you didn’t remember us at all. I didn’t stay because I thought you’d wake up one day. I stayed because I couldn’t imagine a life without you, even if all I had was your silence.”

Her lips trembled. “You loved me that much?” she asked, voice breaking under the weight of emotion.

“I loved you that much,” I replied, leaning forward to touch her cheek, my thumb brushing her skin with reverence. “I still do. And I’ll love you forever and always, Athena Madrigal. You brought joy into my life when I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I found everything I never knew I needed—because of you.”

She inhaled shakily, hesitating for a second, then said, “I was coming back to you that night,” she confessed, her eyes holding a painful truth. “After you left that morning, I realized I couldn’t live without you. I thought I could. I tried to hate you. But deep down, I knew—it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t mine either. It was our parents.”

There was pain in her voice, old and tangled, but also healing.

“My mother did what she did to get back at my father. And he… he only pushed us away because he believed Beatrix’s lies. He thought my sister and I weren’t his children. I didn’t know about Beatrix’s part in it until after you left Eldoria.”

I gently cupped her face, tilting it up to meet mine as I wiped her tears away with my thumbs. Then I pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“It’s all in the past now, my love." I murmured. I should’ve told you about your sister. I was a coward. I didn’t want to lose you. But I lost you anyway. I'm sorry."

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “You suffered so much because of my family.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I said, softly. “What matters is that we found our way back to each other. We have time now—all the time in the world—to heal. And we’ll do it together. As a family.”

She smiled then, her tears still falling, but her voice steady. “As a family.”

“I love you, Athena Madrigal.”

“And I love you, Eros Belmonte.”

That night, with my love beside me and our kids asleep in our bed, I dreamed—not of the past, but of the future. A future filled with laughter, joy, and the peace we had long been denied.

It had taken twelve long years to finally begin. And now, nine years after that, we were here. At last, we had arrived at our destination. Together.

We were home.

\~~~~~

Athena

That night, I didn’t dream of pain or darkness.

I dreamed of him.

Of Eros—his hand in mine, steady and warm. I saw the years written on his face, not in wrinkles, but in devotion. He had waited. Through the storms, through the silence, through the unbearable stretch of time when I wasn’t really living. He’d stayed.

And in my dream, he was there—not as a shadow or a distant memory, but as the constant light I didn’t know had been guiding me back.

For the first time in eight years, I felt safe.

For the first time, I slept without fear.

And for the first time in what felt like forever…

I, Athena Madrigal, slept in peace.

THE END.