Chapter 10
The day Damian got out was the best day of my life.
Milo was eight now.
Taller.
Smarter.
His hair was longer.
He was wearing a suit.
Just like Damian’s.
We stood at the prison gates.
Waiting.
The big metal door opened.
And there he was.
Damian.
He looked different.
Older.
Scars on his hands I didn’t recognize.
But his eyes were the same.
The moment he saw us… everything else disappeared.
He ran.
Milo ran too.
Faster than I’d ever seen him run.
“DADDY!”
Damian dropped to his knees.
Caught him.
Lifted him.
Swing him around.
Crying.
Laughing.
Both of them.
I stood there.
Watching.
Crying too.
Damian set Milo down.
Looked at me.
He stood up.
Walked toward me.
Slowly.
Like he was afraid I’d disappear.
“Hi,” he said when he reached me.
“Hi,” I said.
He touched my face.
Brushed the tears away with his thumb.
“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, smiling through the tears.
He kissed me.
Right there.
In front of the prison.
In front of the guards.
In front of the whole world.
Three years of waiting.
Three years of letters.
Three years of weekend visits through glass.
Three years of raising our son alone.
All of it was worth it.
For this one kiss.
We drove to the new house.
Not the compound.
Not the penthouse.
A real house.
In the suburbs.
With a white picket fence.
And a big yard.
And a treehouse Damian had paid to have built while he was inside.
Milo saw it.
Screamed.
“TREEHOUSE!”
He was out of the car before we stopped.
Ran into the yard.
Climbed the ladder.
Damian and I sat on the porch steps.
Watched him.
“Thank you,” Damian said quietly.
“For what?”
“For waiting,” he said.
“For not giving up on me.
For raising our son to be the most amazing little boy in the world.”
He took my hand.
“I missed so much,” he said.
“Three years of birthdays.
Holidays.
Soccer games.
School plays.”
“You’re here now,” I said.
“That’s all that matters.”
He pulled a small box out of his pocket.
Opened it.
The ring.
His mother’s ring.
The one he’d given me three years ago.
“I never got to put this on you,” he said.
“Will you marry me, Elena?
For real this time.
No guns.
No trials.
No prison.
Just… us.”
I held out my hand.
“Yes,” I said.
He slipped it on my finger.
It fit perfectly.
We got married a month later.
In the backyard.
Under a big oak tree.
Just us.
And Milo.
And a few friends.
No bodyguards.
No guns.
No secrets.
Milo was the best man.
He walked me down the aisle.
Handed me off to Damian.
“Take care of her, Daddy,” he said seriously.
Damian knelt down.
Looked him in the eye.
“I promise, son,” he said.
“For the rest of my life.”
The ceremony was short.
Simple.
Perfect.
When the priest said “you may kiss the bride,” Damian lifted me off my feet.
Kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole life.
Which he had.
That night, after everyone left, we sat on the porch.
Milo was asleep inside.
Tired from too much cake and too much running.
Damian held me in his arms.
The stars were bright.
The crickets were chirping.
Somewhere down the street, a dog barked.
Normal sounds.
Normal life.
“Can you believe it?” Damian said quietly.
“Believe what?”
“That we’re here.
That we made it.
After everything.”
I looked at him.
The scars on his hands.
The lines around his eyes.
The man who’d been a monster.
Then a father.
Then a prisoner.
And now… my husband.
“We earned it,” I said.
He kissed the top of my head.
“Yeah,” he said.
“We really did.”
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes.
And laughter.
I walked down the stairs.
Stood in the kitchen doorway.
Damian was at the stove.
Flour in his hair.
Milo was on a step stool next to him.
Stirring the batter.
Just like the first morning.
Only this time… there was no fear.
No secrets.
No locked doors.
Just two boys.
Making a mess.
And making me the happiest woman in the world.
Damian looked up.
Saw me.
Smiled.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
“Breakfast is almost ready.”
Milo turned.
“Mommy!
Daddy let me put extra chocolate chips!
Don’t tell him I said, but I put some in my pocket too!”
Damian gasped.
“You did not!”
“Did too!”
They started laughing.
Chasing each other around the kitchen island.
Flour flying everywhere.
I leaned against the doorframe.
Watched them.
And I knew.
Everything was going to be okay.
We’d been through hell.
All three of us.
We’d lost so much.
But we’d found each other again.
And that was enough.
That was more than enough.
Damian caught Milo.
Tickled him.
Milo screamed with laughter.
Then Damian looked at me.
His eyes were full of love.
Full of hope.
Full of everything I’d ever wanted.
“I love you, Mrs. Stone,” he said.
“I love you too, Mr. Stone,” I said.
And for the first time in my life… I felt completely safe.
Completely loved.
May you like
Completely home.
The end.
