Page 102 of His to Destroy

Strong.

Whole.

I close my eyes, letting the peace of the moment settle deep inside me.

My hand strokes my growing belly, feeling the steady, reassuring life blooming there.

Gaspare's hand covers mine.

The fire crackles softly.

The night wraps itself around our home like a promise.

And for the first time in a long, long time, I know...

We're going to be okay.

More than okay.

We're going to bloom.

Together.

Always.

Epilogue – Almeria

The late afternoon sunlight streams through the nursery window, painting everything in golden hues.

Soft coos fill the air, mixing with the faint rustling of the curtains and the distant hum of the ocean breeze.

I sit in the rocking chair Gaspare built by hand during my final trimester, cradling our daughter against my chest.

Our daughter.

The words still feel surreal on my tongue.

Tiny and perfect, wrapped in a pale pink blanket, her tiny fist curls into my shirt as she sleeps, her downy dark hair already wild despite how often I smooth it.

Gianna.

Our little miracle.

Gaspare had insisted on the name the moment he laid eyes on her — something beautiful, strong, a name that could withstand anything the world threw at it.

I shift slightly, rocking us back and forth, memorizing the way her weight feels in my arms.

Across the room, Luca tiptoes closer, wide-eyed and reverent in a way I’ve never seen before.

He peeks over the side of the chair, staring at his baby sister with the awe usually reserved for superheroes and spaceships.

“Can I hold her?” he whispers.

I smile and nod.

Carefully, slowly, Gaspare steps in behind Luca, helping him climb into a chair beside me.

Together, we position Gianna in Luca’s arms, her tiny head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.

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