Page 186 of Ruined Vows
The shelter is finally rebuilt. Kids run through the courtyard outside, their laughter echoing off the walls. I pass the new cornerstone bearing my name. My initials are carved deep, but now they are joined by his.
Not as a possession.
As a promise, I finally understand what the past months have shown me. It was never about whether I could survive beside him; it was always about whether I could thrive—and lead—with him.
Now I know the answer.
The war ended, Vukan has solidified his title, and we’re not just surviving anymore. We’re lasting.
It doesn’t end with one bullet—it never does—but the ripple is felt. The message is clear and unmistakable: A woman can bleed in this world and still walk out standing.
And now they know—I don’t stand in Vukan’s shadow.
I cast my own.
We move as one after that. Meetings. Realignments. Power shifts. We don’t divide and conquer. We unite and reign.
There’s power in the balance between us now. I speak and they listen. He enters, and they rise.
But what they don’t see—what only he knows—is that I still sleep with a knife beneath the pillow.
Not because I don’t trust him.
But because the world hasn’t yet learned what happens when it tries to take something from me.
And I want to be ready for him, us, and whatever comes next.
Because this empire? It’s no longer built on his name. It bears mine too.
The shelter doors open wide. Today, there’s no ceremony, and no pressure to make speeches. Just people walking in and walking out. Safe, like it was always supposed to be.
I sit alone in the courtyard, beneath a tree we planted together. Spring sunlight filters through new leaves, and the wind smells like clean stone and second chances.
Vukan joins me quietly, offering me coffee in my favorite cup. I take it and we sit. We don’t speak. We don’t need words. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.
Because this is the life we built, it might not be perfect. But it’s ours.
I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. Then Iwhisper, “I love you.” Not because I have to, but because I want to.
He exhales like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear it.
And maybe... I’ve been waiting just as long to admit it.
65
BIANCA
PROMISES MADE PROMISES KEPT
Outside, the garden is flowering. It’s June, the weather is warm and humid. Vukan holds our daughter in his arms. She wears combat boots with her tutu. She’s one and already a force to be reckoned with.
He’s teaching her Serbian words for strength, loyalty, and love. He tells her stories with monsters—but makes sure she knows they’re not all men.
Some are legacies.
And some—we get to rewrite.
He looks up when I step onto the porch.
