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‘Oh, Cristiano.’ Leonie put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shirt.
He put his hands in her hair, stroking gently, his heart full as he soothed his wife while two of his children tugged at his jacket, oblivious, and the third...
The third he’d find out more about soon.
It was enough. It was more than he’d ever thought he’d have.
After winter there was summer.
And after rain there was sunshine.
After anger and grief and loss there was love.
Always and for ever love.
Cristiano kissed his wife. ‘Come, Leonie Velazquez. Let’s go home.’
