The ride home is quiet. She leans into me, her head against my shoulder, and I hold the reins with one hand while the other stays wrapped around her waist.
Knickers knows the way, and I let him take it. My mind drifts back to Warrick on those station steps, telling me about the two weeks Maya disappeared. The longest two weeks of his life, he'd said. Now I understand why he never demanded answers when she came back. Love isn't about holding so tight that nothing can escape. It's about holding steady enough that someone feels safe to return.
Asha's hand covers mine where it rests against her stomach, our baby, and I finally understand what Warrick was really telling me that day. He wasn't just sharing his story; he was showing me that some questions don't need answers. Thatsometimes the bravest thing you can do is live anyway. Love anyway. Hope anyway.
Somewhere in the woods behind us, a letter is buried. Test results. Answers. The kind of certainty that steals your ability to live in the present because you're too busy calculating the future.
Asha chose not to know. And sitting here with her in my arms, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing, I realize she didn't choose ignorance. She chose freedom. Because knowing wouldn't really change anything. It wouldn’t change our decision to keep our baby. It wouldn’t add days to her life, and it wouldn’t subtract them either. It would just color every single one she has left with the shadow of an ending she can't control anyway.
The barn comes into view, and I feel her relax against me completely.
I don't know what tomorrow looks like. Don't know if she'll wake up scared and try to run again. Don't know if our baby will carry the gene that stole its grandmother. Don't know if I'll have five years with Asha or fifty. But I know this: I'll love her through all of it. The running and the staying, the fear and the hope. The unknowns that will keep us up at night and the moments of peace we steal in between. I don’t love Asha because it’s easy, but because not loving her would be impossible. Some people are written into our DNA in a way that has nothing to do with genetics and everything to do with choice. Asha is my choice. Every day. No matter what.
As we dismount Knickers, and I catch her in my arms one more time, I realize something Warrick already knew: You can't save someone from their fate. You can only love them through it. So that's what I'll do. I'll love her through every terrified moment and every brave one. Through the circular grief that will come in waves. Through the questions that have no answers and the future we can't predict.
I'll love her. And we'll live. And whatever time we get, that will be enough.
Because it has to be.
THE END
EPILOGUE
ASHA
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and red wine. It's a warmth that settles into your bones and makes you forget there's a world beyond these walls. I lean against the counter, glass in hand, watching London's daughter, Grace, toddle between chair legs. Laney tries and fails to coax her back.
Across the room, my father holds Avi against his shoulder, one large hand cradling my son's tiny head. Son. I still can't believe I'm a mom. He was definitely an unexpected surprise, but one I couldn't imagine living without.
"She's got London's stubbornness," Laney says, exasperated but smiling.
"And your tendency to ignore sound advice," London adds, earning him a playful swat.
Trigger catches my eye from where he stands near the sink with Rohan. He doesn't smile, not exactly, but something shifts in his expression—a quiet recognition that still makes my chest tighten. He’s always been able to unravel me with one look. Those dark eyes penetrated through my armor. Everyone else sees a puzzle—a guarded girl with trust issues and a complicatedpast. But Trigger solved that puzzle before I ever said "I do." He pieced together who I am underneath all the protection. He saw the parts of me I thought were too damaged or difficult to love and married me anyway.
"You're too quiet," Dar says, appearing at my elbow with the kind of knowing look only aunts can manage. "It's your birthday. You're supposed to be the loudest one here."
Rohan laughs. "When has Asha ever been loud?"
"Fair point," Dar concedes, refilling my glass without asking. "But still. What's happening in that head of yours?"
Everything. Nothing.How do you explain that your life has become unrecognizable in the best possible way? That the man you agreed to marry out of desperation, a deal with an enemy to save land you couldn't afford to lose, has somehow become the person who savedyouinstead? That you're someone's mother now, that you created this perfect little human who's currently drooling on your father's shoulder?
"Just thinking," I say, taking a sip. The wine is good. My father has exquisite taste in wine. Among other things, I'm still learning about him. Ever since he came clean about my mother's sickness, I feel like we're getting to know each other on a deeper level. He was my best friend and my whole world for so long. Then I started seeing cracks in his façade and realized I was only seeing the man he allowed me to see. Now, he lets me in.
"Dangerous," Trigger says, moving closer. His hand finds the small of my back in a casual, easy way, like he's always belonged there.
Grace shrieks with delight, having discovered a wooden spoon on the floor. The sound cuts through the conversation, and Avi startles against my father’s shoulder. I watch his hand come up instinctively to cradle his head, and his lips move with words too quiet to hear. Around me, the kitchen fills with laughter and life. Laney is reaching for Grace, Rohan is refillingwine glasses, and Dar is gesturing wildly as she tells some story. Family, old and new, weaving around each other like they've always belonged in the same room. This is what I never let myself imagine. Life. Noise. People who stayed.
A year ago, I believed the worst about my father. I carried that belief like a stone in my pocket, heavy and cold. Then came his secret. The truth threatened to change everything and rewrite my entire story. The way I saw it, I had two choices: chase it down, demand answers, and let it consume me. Or let it go.
I chose the moment. Chosethis. The warmth, the laughter, the spoon-wielding toddler. The baby sleeping on his grandfather's shoulder. The husband whose love I was too blind to see for far too long.
"Here," my father says, crossing to me. "He wants his mama."
I set down my glass and take Avi. The weight of him in my arms is still something I can't believe is real. Three months old, and already changing everything I thought my life would be.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Trigger's voice is low, meant just for me. His hand moves from my back to rest gently on Avi's head.
