He freezes. A long, heavy beat. “Why?”
“Because I haven’t heard from him. Not once.” I swallow. “And I worry sometimes that he’ll show up again. Or that he’ll hurt someone to get money.”
“Liza.” His voice is final. “He will never hurt you again.”
The way he says it makes something in my chest loosen.
“Is he…?”
“Gone,” Danyl says simply. “And not in a way that will ever touch you.”
The relief hits so hard it almost knocks me back. I nod slowly.
I don’t care how Danyl handled it. I don’t care where my father is now, or what happened to him. I don’t care about any of it, because that man lost all rights to my heart the moment he sold me out. And I don’t want the possibility of him hurting my future child.
I slip out of my chair and climb into my husband’s lap, wrapping my arms around him. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His jaw works, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just holds me tighter.
“Come here,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand and leading me upstairs.
In our bedroom, sunlight spills through the curtains, catching on the silver rims of the photos on our dresser. Pictures documenting our year together. Trips I never expected to take, holidays I never believed I’d celebrate. Moments where I’m smiling without fear for the first time in my life.
I look at them and feel something inside me settle.
Belonging. Home. Love.
Danyl steps behind me, arms circling my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.
“You’re happy?” he asks quietly.
I reach up and touch his cheek.
“I’m more than happy,” I say. “I’m whole.”
His breath catches.
“I love you,” he says, voice breaking in that way it only does when the words punch too deep.
I turn in his arms and kiss him. Then I whisper against his lips, “Let’s start our family.”
And he smiles against my mouth, a slow, wicked, tender thing.
“As you wish,zhena.”
Wife.
His wife.
And some day, I’ll be a mother.
