I take her hand and lead her back toward the center.
The crew makes exaggerated space.
“Careful,” Ash calls. “He’s sentimental now.”
“Shut up,” I say without looking at him.
Tessa laughs softly as I pull her against me.
“You’re smiling,” she whispers.
“Don’t ruin it.”
She leans closer, lips brushing my jaw. “You’re not half-alive anymore.”
“No,” I agree.
My hands settle at her waist.
“You didn’t erase anything,” I murmur. “You gave it context.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“And you didn’t hide,” she says. “You chose.”
The wind lifts around us again. Mountain air. Laughter. Found family wrapped tight and loud and unapologetic.
I rest my forehead against hers.
“You’re my home,” I tell her.
Her breath trembles slightly.
“You’re mine,” she replies.
No hesitation.
No shadow.
Just us.
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel like a man bracing for impact.
I feel like a man standing steady in the light.
Chosen.
By her.
By fire.
And by love that doesn’t burn out — it burns strong.
Second Epilogue
Tessa
seven years later
