“What have you been practicing, you little minx?” I tease.
Then she opens her mouth and the sweetest words I have ever heard flow out. “I love you.”
The three words, simple and perfect, hit me like a tidal wave. I swallow hard, my throat tight, as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Her voice is returning, bringing with it the person I fought so hard to save.
“I love you too,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. I reach out, pulling her close once more. “More than anything.”
Her fingers lace with mine, the connection electric. I kiss her slowly, reverently, tasting the promise of a future built on this fragile but unbreakable love. The room fades away until there’s nothing but us.
We sink onto the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, a cocoon of warmth and healing. I trace the outline of her swollen belly, marveling at the life growing inside her. The twins move beneath my hand, tiny reminders of hope and resilience.
Her breath hitches against my neck as my lips follow a path of kisses down her shoulder, and I feel the stirring of desire tempered by tenderness. Liliana’s eyes meet mine, bright and clear, and she pulls me back into a kiss that is both gentle and urgent.
The world contracts until it’s just the two of us, the long months of fear and pain dissolving into the soft heat of this moment. Our lips part briefly, and she whispers, “Giovanni…”
Before I can respond, she gasps sharply, her body tensing beneath me. Her eyes widen with surprise and a sudden rush of panic. She signs frantically. My water… it broke.
The words hit like a shockwave, and I look down, seeing the dampness spreading across her dress, the reality crashing over me.
The twins are coming, now, and my heart races, a mix of joy and panic.
I scoop her into my arms, her weight familiar, precious, and move swiftly, calling for Maria as I carry her to the bedroom. She had opted for a home birth, and knowing her aversion to hospitals, I had agreed. I want my wife to feel comfortable when she faces the most important battle of her life.
“It’s time, cara,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside me, and she nods, her hands gripping mine, her eyes wide but trusting.
I lay her on the bed, the golden light of dusk casting her in a glow that makes her look like a goddess, and I kiss her once, fiercely, before stepping back to let Maria prepare.
The midwife is on her way, the estate buzzing with quiet urgency, but I stay by Liliana’s side, my hand in hers, my love for her a fortress against the uncertainty.
Our twins are coming, and with her voice, her strength, her love, I know we’re ready, that we’ve survived the worst to reach this moment, this beginning, together.
EPILOGUE TWO
LILIANA
The morning sun warms my skin as I watch Alessio and Marcella run through the garden, their laughter filling the air with a joy I never take for granted. Our twins are three years old today—Alessio, named after Giovanni’s late brother, full of spirit and curiosity, and Marcella, named for my mother, soft and bright. They move with such freedom and confidence, their voices clear as they speak and their hands expressing themselves with ease.
Their speech has flourished over these years. Each word they say feels like a small victory, a beautiful proof of their resilience. They have no barriers now. I catch myself smiling wide, overwhelmed by how far we’ve come.
I bring a hand to my chest and feel the steady beat of a heart that once trembled but now beats strong with love and gratitude.
Giovanni steps beside me, quiet and steady as always. His fingers find mine, and our hands intertwine without needing words. I look up to meet his gaze and find the warmth there that never fades.
“You look beautiful,” he says softly, his voice filled with awe.
I blush and smile back at him. “S…so.. do you.”
Behind the garden gate, our friends and family gather to celebrate. They have come to mark this special day with us—the third birthday of our children. I can hear their voices drifting through the air, mingling with soft music and the gentle clinking of glasses.
Alessio bounces on the balls of his feet, his dark curls bouncing as he talks excitedly about the cake and the games. Marcella claps her hands with delight, her laughter bright and pure. I watch them with a heart full of pride and love.
Their progress fills me with a joy I can barely contain. They speak freely, their words flowing as easily as their signs, each moment a reminder of the hope we refused to lose.
The years since the dungeon have healed more than just the scars on my skin. My voice, once fragile and broken, now carries strength and confidence. Each sentence I say is a testament to the life we fought for and the love that never gave up on me.
Giovanni has stood by me through it all. His strength has been my anchor, his love my safe place.
The twins rush back to us, breathless and wide-eyed, pulling me into their wild embrace. Their small hands clutch at my dress, their bright eyes full of excitement and affection.
