“I can accept that.”
“Such a hardship.”
“Terrible.” He pulled her closer. “I do not know how I will manage.”
She laughed again, and he realized that this was everything. Not the grand gestures or dramatic moments. Just this—lying in bedwith his mate, their children sleeping peacefully nearby. Normal and perfect.
She yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry. Sera was up twice last night.”
“Sleep,” he said. “I will take her if she wakes again.”
“You took her last time.”
“And I will take her this time. You need rest.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but another yawn caught her. “Fine. But wake me if she won’t settle.”
“I will.”
She settled against him, her breathing already slowing as sleep pulled at her. Outside, the ocean continued its endless rhythm against the shore. The moons tracked across the sky. The world turned. Inside, he closed his eyes and let himself feel her softness against his side, the warmth of their home around them, and the peace of knowing everyone he loved was safe.
This was happiness. Not the absence of fear or grief or pain. Not perfection. But this—choosing joy despite the fear. Building something beautiful from the broken pieces. Holding tight to the ones you love and refusing to let go.
He had spent years believing he didn’t deserve this, but sometimes the universe gave you exactly what you needed, even when you thought you didn’t deserve it. Tomorrow they’d wake to breakfast chaos and children’s laughter. To fishing trips and lessons and the thousand small tasks that made up a life. To the beautiful, messy, perfect reality of family.
And in a small bedroom on a quiet water world, a warrior who’d lost everything found that he had, impossibly, been given everything again. Not the same as before. Different, but just as precious and just as loved.
He let himself drift toward sleep, secure in the knowledge that when he woke, they would all still be here. His family. His home. His second chance.
His everything.
