The most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Because three years later, he still looked at her like she had come back from the dead.
Because she had.
Amara smiled softly.
Kaelith forgot how to breathe.
“Are you just going to stare,” she teased softly, “or are you going to help your wife?”
His jaw tightened.
The twins giggled.
He handed both children to Martha waiting nearby. Ignoring their dramatic protests. Ignoring everything. Because his wife had spoken.
And Kaelith De Luca had never been very good at denying her.
The second the nursery door closed, he was on her.
One arm around her waist. The other cupping her jaw. Pulling her flush against him.
“Kaelith—”
He kissed her and it still made her knees weak after all these years.
It reminded her of things she survived. She healed.
Shelived.
It had taken a year. A whole year of nightmares. Of waking up screaming. Of trembling at shadows. Of crying in his arms. Of remembering Abigail. Of mourning. Of breaking.
And every single night, Kaelith held her. Never once asking her to heal faster. Never once letting her fight alone.
He stayed.
Lorcan still visited from time to time, usually with whiskey, sarcasm, and enough toys to spoil the twins rotten.
Abigail…Abigailwas gone. And Rafael? No one spoke much about him anymore.
Some ghosts didn’t deserve resurrection.
Some chapters were meant to stay buried.
Kaelith pressed his forehead against Amara’s.
His thumb brushed over her wedding ring.
The same ring.
“I love them,” he whispered.
Amara smiled knowingly.
“But?”
Kaelith’s dark eyes dropped to her lips.
