Page 126 of Veil of Dust

“I forgive you, Tomas,” I say. “You’ve always believed in us—even when it cost you. And that faith means more than any mistake.”

He pauses, hammer mid-air, and for a moment his eyes soften. Then he nods once, slow and sure, and sets to work again—loyal and unbroken.

Tiziano is behind the bar. He moves with purpose, wiping down the counter, refilling the coffee pot. No rush. Just rhythm. Just care. His dark eyes catch mine and hold. Nothing dramatic. Just…steady. He belongs here. With me. In this.

I glance around again. The bar is more than bricks and beams. It’s everything we’ve fought for. Everything we’ve built out of ash and ruin. We buried what the city used to be. We made something new.

Sunlight hits the bottles on the back wall. Amber, green, deep gold. The glass throws reflections across the bar like pieces of a mosaic, like light coming through after a storm.

The neon sign above the door hums once. A soft flicker, then solid. Its red glow is steady now. Reliable.

We’re alive.

I feel the words in my chest more than I hear them. The bar is breathing again. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe with it.

“Home’s alive,” I say out loud.

Just a whisper. But it carries.

We did this.

I look at Tiziano. Then Tomas. Then the room again. The sunlight. The shelves. The sound of the hammer meeting wood. The smell of citrus cleaner and coffee and warm bread.

We built this. Together.

I reach for a card from the new deck. Fresh. Not warped by smoke. Not stained by what came before.

The paper’s smooth beneath my fingertips. I pull one. Just one.

Strength.

The lion. The woman calm and steady beside it. Not fighting, just standing.

I don’t need to question it. It fits. It’s not a warning. It’s a reflection.

This is us now.

I let the card rest on the bar in front of me. I stare at it for a moment—at the shape of the figure, at the way her hands are still, not clenched.

We’re not surviving anymore. We’re choosing.

Choosing this.

I hold the card for another second, then place it down. No hesitation. No fear.

“We stay,” I say, turning to Tiziano.

It’s not a question.

He meets my eyes. He nods once. No big gesture. Just agreement. Quiet, certain.

Here.

Always.

My heart calms. It’s not racing. It’s not bracing for impact.

I’m not the woman I used to be. The one who thought she had to carry everything alone. The one who fought like she had nothing left to lose. That version of me would’ve been out the door already.

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